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KE VEKIE8 
 
 OF 
 
 •■ 
 
 AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
"^^^ ■■^^ l!S>*i*''SM"ft^^*i^®U^ 
 
REVERIES 
 
 OF 
 
 AN OLD SMOKEE, 
 
 . INTERSPERSED WITH 
 
 REMINISCENCES OF TRAVEL AND ADVENTURE. 
 
 BY 
 
 CHARLES EDWARD LEWIS. 
 
 HUNTER, ROSE & COMPANY. 
 
 1881. 
 
\'?>'2.'S>-5- 
 
 Entered according to the Act of the Parliament of Canada, in the year one 
 thousand eight hundred and eighty-one, by Charles Edwakd Lewis, in 
 the Office of the Minister of Agricidture. 
 
ebicatiott 
 
 ••• 
 
 A LL that is most kindly and pleasing in the following 
 jC\~. pages, I proffer most heartily to niy friends ; and 
 those portions which may not be acceptable to them, I be- 
 queath most cheerfully to my critics. I trust both parts 
 may be received — the former, as an earnest tribute of 
 reciprocal affection ; the latter, as an inoffensive and easy 
 exercise whose manifest errors may offer them the congen- 
 ial task of correcting. . 
 
 The volume as a whole, irrespective of its merits or de- 
 merits, but simply as a memoir of odd hours of thoughtful 
 reverie, is dedicated to one who, regardless of its literary 
 value, will prize it as the fragment of a life's history in 
 which she has always evinced a loving interest; and if, on 
 its perusal, she, too, would eondeinn much that may not 
 meet her capproval, then will she grant me her indulgence, 
 as of yore, on being reminded that she is the Tnothei' of 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 Montreal, Canada, 
 May, 1880. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 TAOK 
 
 DEDICATION v 
 
 BYGONES OF HISTORY— Introductory 3 
 
 A SKE-SAW AT SEA— Coxceknino the Pains and Pen- 
 alties OF Ocean Travel. 31 
 
 THE SHADOW OP THE END 6] 
 
 NORWOOD TO BRECKENKAM— A Pensketch of Eng- 
 lish Landscape (39 
 
 OUR CHARITIES— AND CHARITY MONUMENTS. ... 83 
 
 FIRST EXPERIENCE UNDER FIRE-A Reminiscence 
 
 OF THE American Civil War 113 
 
 GRANITE AND ASHES-Or Gleanings from the Sep- 
 ulchres of Great English >Story-Tellers 136 
 
 IMAGINATION ; OR, IDEAL vs. REAL 171 
 
 CHISELHURST. 249 
 
 AMNESTY 277 
 
MiMMMMMaMMMMIIIMI 
 
^njottts of ^ilston). 
 

 
 « 
 
 1 cliS^^^: 
 
 ^€^^^jS 
 
 1 
 
 llEVElllES 
 
 1 
 
 
 OF 
 
 1 AN 
 
 OLD 
 
 SMOKER. 
 
 ♦ ••- 
 
 BYGONES OF HISTORY. 
 
 I. 
 
 TN vuluiitiirily assuming the somewhat onerous task 
 -^ which the consideration and writing of these reveries 
 present, not the least of the many difliicidties involved is, 
 that I seem to set myself up, not only to supplant the 
 brilliant efforts of many of the world's great advisei-s, but 
 to impugn the integrity of their motives — to assail the 
 sacred origin and utility of their doctrines, and worst of 
 all to deny the hallowed exclusiveness of their right to 
 preach. Here let me add (and it will be rather in exag- 
 geration than extenuation) that notwithstanding all the 
 orthodox odium attaching to the term, I must avow my- 
 self a " free-thinker " on all subjects pertaining to common 
 sense. This, of itself, were provocation enough to send 
 any man " to Coventry," but seemingly not atistied with 
 such an obnoxious and heretical attitude, I must needs go 
 farther and show, if not maliciously, at least intentionally, 
 sometliing less than the minimum amount of reverence for 
 
4 REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 our splondid heritage of Evangelical learning — not except- 
 ing even those theological puzzles presumed to underlie sal- 
 vation, and the making out of which, unlike the pest of 
 an unprogressive Tantalus, is regarded not as a penance but 
 rather as a lucrative and highly popular profession, where- 
 in each of the infinite variety of opposite conclusions are 
 regarded as such an exclusive triumph of ecclesiastical 
 erudition and scholarly ability, as i*aises the precocious 
 adept out of the groping darkness of niean apprenticeship, 
 out of the a[)athetic mysticism of mere professorship to 
 that higher earthly Elysium of prodigious talent set up 
 in opposition to the Limbo of idiots. There, although 
 only dead to his novitiate, he undergoes amongst the initi- 
 ated a kind of apotheosis, and becomes thenceforward, in 
 the estimation of a substrata of comparative stupidity, 
 that human prodigy of the class dubbed "Doctors of 
 Divinity." 
 
 In raising my weak voice, and breaking the spell of 
 hush and awe, that characterize the unthinking credulity 
 of othei* men, it is not that I need to be admonished of 
 the acquiescence becoming one of my humble attainments ; 
 on the contrary, my motive in thus relieving my mind 
 gets both its impulse and inspiration in the mournful con- 
 sciousness that to justify even, the pretence of underetand- 
 ing, it is necessary to have mastered the preliminary and 
 occult science of Schismatics ; and, when we consider the 
 chaos of perplexity in which our learned professors have 
 inv lived, not simply tlie arts of peace, but the conditions 
 ot ternal bliss, it must be admitted for anyone, in the 
 
liYGONES OF HISTOllY. 
 
 5 
 
 exci'clso of ordiiisiiy time an<l ijitelli^(»nce, to attempt to 
 comprehend all the subtletien and .sophisms pertaining 
 thereto, were alK)ut as hopeless and fruitless a task as for 
 a novice, like me, to attempt to demonstrate the fallacy 
 of, or to budge in the slightest degree, those mammoth 
 tomes and cumbrous systems which a learned dictatorial 
 orthodoxy has grafted on the race ; and which, while they 
 stand as firm, are also as opafjue as the granite hills of New 
 England. 
 
 Although without the excuse for my seeming presump- 
 ti(m which comes of being, as all at least asmnne to be, 
 "unbiassed," nevertheless, I may claim, instead, that my 
 opinions are ventured in the outgush of natuial impulse 
 — that my ideas, however faulty and crude, present 
 the virtue at least of "raw material," and have not been 
 made up and warped and {)erverted by scholastic nursing 
 or other sectarian training — that however strongly I may 
 incline to certain views, my mind is neither pledged nor 
 subsi<lized — and whatever my preju<lices, I have no pro- 
 fessional nor party interest in catering, with a view to 
 profit or aggrandizement, to the claims of rival cli([ue or 
 clan or cause. This last consideration is my greatest en- 
 couragement — my best apology for intruding my senti- 
 ments in the frowning, cynical face of such an impos- 
 ing array of " cultured " talent as we find enjoying in 
 ofticial capacity both a sacred and profane monopoly 
 of all situations of vantage and emolument — not in the 
 exercise of a calling simply, but employed in the routine 
 business of inculcatinof ideas rather more ancient than 
 
HEVERtES or AK Ott) SMOKEtl. 
 
 Ill 
 
 i 
 
 modern, and in the cabalisticj interpretation and proninl- 
 gation of tlie lawH of Go<l and man. I may say tlmt 
 Wliile I wonM confine m3'.self as closely Jis possible to my 
 own thoughts and language, 1 make no claim to originality; 
 at least, none save that which bears in mind that all are 
 original just in proportion as all are ignorant, and that for 
 me or anyone else to expect to think exclusively of things 
 that have escaped the ol>servation of the watchful hosts 
 who are moving by or that have gone past, would be as 
 pal[)abl3'^ unjust to them, and, indeed, as erroneous and 
 absurd an s,ssuraption of pristine right as for a lost tribe 
 of interior Africa to send a deputation thence across the 
 boundaries into civilization, and following the example of 
 more enlightened nations, lay claim to desirable localities 
 by right of discovery. Ah, we don't know that they may 
 not in coui-se of time, when all we have thought and done 
 shall have degenerated into apathy and forgetfulness, and 
 need brushing up and renovating by some ingenious peo- 
 ple at present fasting in ignorance and barbaric seclusion. 
 Even now, it must be admitted, in the jungle of mental 
 darkness which they inhabit, these latter would be dis- 
 cover(^rs, and in the open-mouthed, stupid amazement of 
 their dusky brethren and of their " Ferdinand and Isabella," 
 enjoy, as explorers, the same enviable distinction as do our 
 own immortal Columbus and Jacques Cartier. But the rea- 
 son is they live in intellectual as well as physical nakedness, 
 and know no more about the world beyond their horizon 
 than is evolved in the native progress of eating, drinking 
 and sle jping as observed in their peculiar manner of liv- 
 
HYOONES OF HISTORY 
 
 in<( — only payinjij that attention to wluit is tninspirini^ 
 ahroa<l, as is suggested by their own eccentiie styU^ of lios- 
 pitality, made i>opular and interesting in the excitement 
 occasioned by the reception and entertainment of a stmy 
 ])rofessor or a migratory missionary, whom we cannot 
 <leny they welcome, about Christmas time, with the same 
 hearty relish we would a well-stuflfed goose or an appe- 
 tizing gobbler — and with an impulse and propensity very 
 like our own, "kill 'em and eat 'em !" 
 
 Apropos of those systems to which I have referred, 
 they mav be excellent in their way, and actually repre- 
 sent the well-meaning fruits of centuries of pious schem- 
 ing and scholarly toil to inaugurate a geneml social and 
 ecclesiastical polity ; thus viewed, they may stand out 
 before the world splendid achievements in the line of 
 intellectual and evangelical progress, and at the same 
 time involve so much erudition and critical analysis 
 in their application as to present,of themselves, more diffi- 
 culties than the obstacles they are intended to over- 
 come, and necessitate in their operation an ability even 
 greater than that by which they were conceived. 
 Jomini divined the Art of War in its highest excellence ; 
 but his rules, although surprisingly clever, required in 
 their application what he lacked, viz., Genius ; and in 
 applying them personally he was worse than a novice, he 
 was a failure. So, wanting that indispensable prerequi- 
 site, his systems were a clog and a hindrance, and instead 
 of being the medium of his exaltation and triumph were 
 the chief cause of his degradation and ruin. Great 
 
 •0 
 
T 
 
 B 
 
 REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 minds, liowever, do not require systems, and tliey orijj^i- 
 nate those mninterly plans which win fume, as tlie 
 emergency calls for them, paying only sufficient atten- 
 tion to the study of general rules as to enable them to 
 anticipate the tactics of adversaries who, while they may 
 be men of ability, their tuition has made them niartinets, 
 and their devotion to the formalities of their profession 
 lays them open to the designs of artifice; so as, in the case 
 of knowing huntsmen who calculate to a dead certainty 
 the invariabh^ habits of the craftiest animals, while the 
 former usually triumph in the breach, the latter fall mis- 
 erable victims to the observance. This is as true of poli- 
 tics as of war, and applies wherever persuasion meets 
 opposition or progress resistjvnce. Indeed, a policy that 
 would succeed in one case would, if observed to the let- 
 ter in another, bring disaster ; and an expedient that 
 would suggest itself to a common sense mind, untram- 
 melled with theories, would, by exemplarians, be tabooed 
 as plausible but irregular. 
 
 II. 
 
 In the war of opinions, we find, all through history, 
 the conflict of partisan zeal waging fiercely round certain 
 standards, raised in the diverse views of men who, for 
 some reason or other, have acquired a reputation for 
 superior intelligence, and whose other virtues are pre- 
 sumed to be in the same laudable proportion. Many of 
 these, with no more learning than is sufticient to propound 
 perplexing problems, and no higher intellectual endow- 
 
HYdONKS OK IIISTOUY. 
 
 iiioni tlian the inere " iiaek" of iiiakin*^ a "noise in the 
 world," come to be rej^arcb'd as of proili'^ious importance 
 and are sevenilly assigned ]>y the less intelligent masses 
 the much coveted distinction of party or sectional leader- 
 ship. These men, with a few honora))le exceptions, repre- 
 sent the tif-hifH¥&i{i casts into tlie scale in order to adjust 
 the eipiilihrium in social and political affairs, and at certain 
 critical junctures, are thus enabled to count as the cele- 
 brated "straw" that breaks the camel's back, or as the 
 fraction of a grain over that sunders the most ponderous 
 cables of steel, and in a heroic worship that ignores minor 
 and extraneous causes they get the exclusive credit for 
 marvellous potency and even superhuman ability. Some 
 of these have attained distinction, but failed as " Reform 
 ers," and it may not be altogether an absurd conceit to 
 regard such as human prodigies who, coming into the world 
 seemingly centuries before their allotted time, meander 
 about the earth in intellectual abstraction and ideal iso- 
 lation. They are remarkable cases of pi'olepsis and their 
 ])rincipal difficulty seems to be to bn<lgeover the, to them, 
 unnatural space intervening between the time when they 
 wep« and when they ought to have been born. 
 
 In the conflict of opinion to which reference has been 
 made, it is observable that our highest authorities and 
 most venerable counsellor's exhibit the largest share of 
 uncompromising hostility and unyielding intolerance. 
 The struggle never ceases, although it is variable, and 
 presents the more remarkable phases we term peace and 
 war — nevertheless, the strife goes on, the only material 
 
10 
 
 REVKRIKS OK AN OLD SMOKKR. 
 
 <'haii<;«' licin^ in the weapons uhcmI- the " |»ik«* ami 
 lnoadswnnl" hein^, from time to time laid aside for the 
 less deadly "tooth and nail." Thus, with the same hitter- 
 neas of spirit, in either case, the conHict dwindles from 
 the more chivalrous appeal to arms to the no less mis- 
 chievous resource to abuse — in the first instance life \h 
 assailed, in the last character, and often those whom war 
 does not give us the <jua.si right to kill in this world we 
 avail ourselves of the blessings of peace to destroy in 
 the next. 
 
 A goodly share of the bitterness and opposition that 
 destroys the natural tranquillity of communities an<l 
 peoples, and denominations and sects, comes down to us 
 in the name and support of opinions and doctrines and 
 schisms which were propagated centuries ago, and which, 
 under a variety of forms and circumstances, have been 
 debated and wrangled, and quibbled over ever since. In 
 the chameleon-like category of pros and cons that have 
 heaped alternate eulogy and obloquy on <licta coming 
 down to us from extinct ages, and that have run the 
 gantlet of so many hard knocks, and undergone so much 
 nmtilating, patching, and restoring, it is not surprising 
 they should present themselves blackened, begrimed, 
 distorted. If, then, we would try to think of them as 
 they were in the fresh vitality of their living day, it is 
 of the firat importance to consider the characteristics of 
 the times that gave rise to them ; but in the effort to 
 familiarize oui-selves with the nature of exigencies in the 
 past, that had so much to do with the moulding of 
 
nYunSKS Oh' HISTORY. 
 
 11 
 
 UiMii'^'lit, «'xprr's.si(»naiMl rxindiriit, we aiviiici l>y an inHii- 
 pcniMc oliHtaclt'. I nicnii tlic (liHiciiltyof tnins(N).sin;^oiii' 
 exisU'iKM' l»y tljosc wrrtcluMl rout<;.s ami <^il«l«Ml v«4nclr.s 
 tlirough countless decades liack into reniot*^ times, and try- 
 in*,' to feel the influences that controlled, not only nations, 
 but coinniunities and sects,and individuals, whose lanj^uaj^e 
 an<l sentiments it is absolutely necessary to undei*stand, to 
 correctly interpret the true meanint^ of their words an<l 
 actions. This stu^mdous undertaking is univei'sally 
 shirked or a<lroitly smoothed over to suit the purposes of 
 partisan wiiters and relic-mongers who go l)ack and pre- 
 ] )are the way for pleasure parties of mar vel-lo v ing excursion- 
 ists — and these, we may add, not re(|uiring to Ix' transport- 
 ed bodily,are spirited aljoutthrouglithe mediumof a species 
 of " half hour series" in which the hungry student, in 
 the dreamy ecstasy of .an appetizing imagination, is enabled 
 to compass the events of centuries in a space the size of 
 a reHned sandwich and to swallow the tempting repast of 
 an exhumed dynasty at a gulp. The litei-ary gastrono- 
 mers who dress and serve these bits of mummy dom to suit 
 the fastidious taste of modern epicures, are men who glory 
 in the mission of reclaiming the hidden treasures of bygone 
 days ; and this superhuman task, notwithstamling it is in 
 •lirect violation of the laws of nature, they not only profess 
 to have achieved, but with a generasity, sanctified by their 
 own mental destitution, have bequeathed the invaluable 
 store to posterity. So it is, like thieves in the night, we 
 sneak in by stealth and gorging ourselves with all they 
 can cany, strut abroad with the memory loaded down with 
 
12 
 
 ItKVKIlIKS oK AN <»I,I) SMnKKft, 
 
 oliMol«'t«« wriiltli wliifli only pnsHrH cnin'nt till tli<' iiioro 
 Not»pti('al,wl)oHe want of criMliility ren<l<u-s thciii iin{N)piilHi', 
 rovenjifo thou selves by oxposifij^r tlie frainl an«l provin;? it 
 roimtrrfiMt. i)f cou!*so, iimiiy who havr a larp' ainoiiitt of 
 this sort of trash in stock arc not rsporially anxious to 
 liavo tluMr anthoritit's inipcaclwMl.and Uicitly <!ons(»nt to Im»- 
 lievt' what it nii;(]it Im» extrrniciy (Mnlmrrassinj^ to (liscnMJit. 
 Hero wo may not<' that the dillieulty referred to, of 
 feeling the live pulse of past events, Ih niostfrequently over- 
 eonip hy a convenient, and, in fact, necessary twist ahout. 
 'I'!iatis,hv turninirthe l»aek on mii immense anionnt of fruit- 
 less research, we hit upon the easy expedient of inv«'rtin]i^ 
 tlie ordei- of time, — makinj^ the earlier action tnke its 
 character from the s'lhsetpient impression, an<l dovetail 
 with still later periods. Then, virtually, the stint of 
 divinin*^' any sentiment or motive pertaining to the an- 
 tique, resolves itself not into an ancient hut a modern in- 
 ipiiry, an<l is no longer a nuitt4>r of how they felt, hut what 
 '?w think. ( ■ont<'mporaries and eye-witm\ss<'s are repu- 
 <]inted as incompetent evidence, and to get a proper 
 knowle<lgo of wluit trans|>ired in the times past we must 
 r(»ad wluvt is written in times j)resent. The conseiiuence 
 t)f such a cluonological atrocity is to make all generations 
 ami epoclis assimilates and amenable to our own, and in 
 this manner we virtually ignore the cMpiitable i)rinciple 
 that times as well as circumstances alter cases. 
 
 li 
 
UYiJONI-^S OK lirSTOllV. 
 
 18 
 
 III. 
 
 I «io not pick tlirso flaws for tlio piirpohu of in Tr iilltM'u- 
 villin;;, l)iitjtssu;^;;»»stivo of niatcriiil <liscrr|mnci«'M rrj^jinl- 
 in<^ many of tliosc representations which onr e\poun<lerH 
 hold upfoi'uut' benefit and ji^uidanceetjnecrnin;; the tea<'hin^ 
 of opinions and ovonts whicli, deH[)ito the alienations of 
 time, are ^rnbhed up, resuscitated, and rchahilitatcd, and 
 set to modern use. Sickly defoiniities of truth some of 
 them are too, witli pedigrees sacuodly remote, and many 
 with physiognomies d la T(niss<>an, are only waxen im- 
 ages of atrocious not>>ihles, modell<>d in tlu^ bilious hallu- 
 cination of ai*t dreamers, and set up for adoration in a 
 sanctuary of horroi*s. But, presuming, ami tluit very ra- 
 tionally, that to <livin«^ tl»o futuic we must know the 
 pjist, We leave the musty recoi'd of the latttsr to be 
 studied up by " book worujs," wlio profess, after a short 
 application to the subji^ct, to give us a full explanati<ni of 
 all that has transpired. Aye, and some have even had the 
 audacity to wiite over their puny memoranda, " History 
 of the World !" History of the world ! yes, History of the 
 world. Far be it from my purpose to disparage tluMr efforts, 
 I need not ; ignorance or policy may (;omm<'nd their egot- 
 ism, buttlu^y mv sufHciently reproved by the very know- 
 ledge of which they plumi^ themselvt.'s, — the medium by 
 which they seek to eidighten their age only going to show, 
 simply, liow little they know. Meanwhile tliese id(;nti- 
 cal peoph^ themselves, who have i'njo^ed the rare privi- 
 lege of glimpses over that boundless expanse of fallow 
 mystery open to literary exploration, and those especially 
 
14 
 
 HKVKUIKS OF AN Of.D SMOKKR 
 
 wlu* have skiiiiiiied over and evfii so iinprifectly siirvry»Ml 
 ilio prodigious sidijcct, on^jlit, of uU imn, to feel the most 
 hiiiuMt; and i;;nomiit, and Ik3 adiiionishcd in tlirir own 
 estiiiiution, liow iiiiscnihly inade<|uate, liovv nu'iiit tlieii* 
 puny scmpinj^, and liow infinite tlio ^^ivat mass of foi- 
 ]»idden knowled«5'e heyond their reach I A^in, were I 
 disjK)Hed to <lispara«^e theseso-calle<l " learned men," from 
 whom it is customary for ♦^cat nudtitudrs and untliiitk- 
 in^ uuisscs to tak(! their inter|)retations of law and ;,'osp«'I, 
 it wouhl he wliolly unnecessary when it is considered how 
 much more vigorously and eHcctively they disparaj^e each 
 other. It were a thankless Uisk, indee<l, to show that ever 
 Hinee tlie dawn of their enlightenment, the worhl hashcen 
 plunged into even greater ol>scurity by the flood of their 
 elueiilation ; hut however this may he, there is one feature 
 in their cultured physiognomy j)rolifie in ugliness, which 
 no amount of frescoing and patching, and roiuje-uuj will 
 ever effectually screen — it is that most regicttahle <lraw- 
 back that instead of harmonizing the elements of discord, 
 they have continued sowing the seeds of that prolific 
 growth — Dissension — the ploughing, and hoeing, and har- 
 rowing of which, under the direction of these " ovei-seers," 
 have cost mankind more sweat, and tears, and Vjlood, than 
 all the other " ills that flesh is heir to." Could we live 
 in fraternal accord with the decisions of any one generation, 
 we might he, all of us, unanimous and haj)py ; hut, as in 
 the grab and greed of money-making, o in our instruc- 
 tion and enterprise generally, things arc come to such 
 a pass that one generation is thought a failure if it 
 
 II. 
 
n^MioNi-^s OK iiisruuv. 
 
 i:> 
 
 «l(M's tint outstrip u precoiliii^, am! so all, oi- vt'iy iiiurli, 
 tliiit oiiu provoH tlic other atttMiipts, aiKJ, not alto- 
 "ftlier iiriMUccvssfully, U) disprove. Takin;,' History a.s 
 an example, wu may tusk, how much are we indebted to 
 our '*.scril>eH" for their evidence a^iinst their predeccHHoi-M, 
 and for thii accumulation, or rather suKstitution, of au- 
 thoritative iccord. Are we adjured not U) nad fiction ^ 
 Where sliall w«; find a more prrt«'ntious one than is eom- 
 prived in themyria<lsof volumes of so-called historical fact 
 showered down ujmhi the jXK)r, credulous, unsuspeetin;; 
 clans who read and helieve every tliin;^ and anything that 
 comes through certain scholastic chaimels, and pur|M)rts 
 to 1>e a fjimd JUle chronicle. Amon<( other Haws in His- 
 tory, we may notice here, it records its "mountain" of pre- 
 judice with the same solemn, unimiH^achahle air that it 
 ekes out its " molehill " of truth; and its only redeeminj^ 
 featuie, if indeed we may call it such, is that later " 1ns- 
 torians," it may he with no higher object than to estab- 
 lish their own individuality, prove, or attempt to prove, 
 it a lie ; and thereupon set alK)ut clearing up reputations 
 and events, that, according to them, have long l>een mis- 
 undei'stooil, and either basked in the sunshine of un- 
 merited esteem, or been draggled along under an ever 
 increasing burden of undeserved oblo(|uy. In the lat- 
 ter case they deserve our highest commendation, our 
 heartiest support ; we could even forgive them for 
 explo<ling many pet theories, and for dis<iualifying many 
 favorite authorities, but how can we suH'er these 
 ruthless spcU-breakei's to swoop down upon those beauti- 
 
u 
 
 REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 ful creations of fancy whose reality and authenticity 
 have always been zealously and religiously vouched for, 
 and which believing them to be true has enhanced our 
 interest and made our hearts throb with reverential awe 
 and adoration. Some of these have been narratives of 
 thrilling events, and anecdotes of great and good men set 
 before us and impressed on our memories, as truthful 
 examples and genuine specimens of actual life. With what 
 a pang, then, of long dormant but not quite extinct boy- 
 ish love and regret, do we surrender our faith in those 
 delicious deceptions to dispel which, though they be 
 all fancy, were a madness, perhnps, as unpardonable as 
 that which shattered the famous Portland Vase. Aye, 
 and why should not they be sacred too ? Is it because 
 the anniversary of their birth is not sufficiently mythi- 
 cal ? None lias the temerity to question or disturb the 
 importance and gravity of those even more miraculous e[)i- 
 sodes in the lives of saints and other instructive items of 
 hallowed origin submitted to modern credulity as a test 
 of faith, then why question those precious examples of 
 profane heroism that embellish the early record of our in- 
 dividual and national life ? We leave David and his tiny 
 " sling " alone, and Samson and his "jaw-bone," together 
 with the " fox-tails and fire-brands." We do not inter- 
 fere with the domestic accounts of Adam and Eve, nor con- 
 tradict the wondrous narrative of the erratic tribe of Is- 
 rael, then, why disturb the poems of Homer and Ossian, 
 and Chatterton — why <liscredit the story of Crops-^s, of 
 Cincinnatus, of Regulus ? Nay, I fain they had left us 
 " Diogenes and his tub," " Arthur and his Round Table," 
 
BYGONES OF HISTORY. 
 
 17 
 
 "Tell and his applo," ami last, Imt not least, "Washington 
 and Ills little hatchet." Tn this connection too, we are re- 
 minded of a late pu)>lication hy a distinguishe<l writer 
 an<l contemj^orary,* and again we see the hand of the 
 exultant iconoclast raised, as thumbs once were in the Coli- 
 seum at Rome ; now, it is not the miserable existence 
 of some doughty gladiator that is in jeopardy, but the 
 story of two precious lives in our nation's history — 
 there is a flourish of that magic quill — a subterranean 
 rumble is heard, — the foun<lations of our National archives 
 tremble and quake — and, presto, that page whereon tht"* 
 posterity of Columbia were wont to portray the love and 
 devotion and' sacrifice of a heathen girl, yawns a }>lank, 
 empty chasm ; and the sublime tableau of Pocahontas, 
 saving the life ,>f Capt. John Smith, is no longer a matter 
 of fact, but a thing of fancy. 
 
 We shall not stop here to estimate the delicious waste 
 of tears that have been shed over what up to a recent 
 period we never doubted were the " Last Words" of dying 
 notables, recorded by men whose joyless mission it has 
 })een to haunt death-bed scenes; and, following the spirit of 
 departing greatness into the vestibule of the other world, 
 have listened, with their ear glued to the key-hole of 
 eternity for the last intelligible utterances of expiring mor- 
 tality. 
 
 Suffice it to say the examples above cited, and ho.sts of 
 others belonging to the same category, are all that com])Osed 
 
 I 
 
 * William ("ullin Bryant, in his new History «)f the Fuited States, pro* 
 uuces evidence to disprove the story of Poccihontas. 
 
 H 
 
18 
 
 REVERtES OF* AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 the desert, the sparkling wines, the frosted confectionery, 
 the floral exotics of that sweet, sumptuous historical ban- 
 quet that regaled our hungry, credulous, boyish days; and 
 yet, like all else we loved, they must needs be wiped out 
 like fox find geese marks on a slate, and vanish away as 
 have the pops and candied sweets of dear old Santa 
 Claus. Nay, they do not perish for good, but will 
 reappear in other forms of so-called truth to enchant 
 and deceive and delight successive generations of ju- 
 veniles, who will laugh and cry and applaud the mar- 
 vellous con.jp cVctil as in pantomime, while the older ones, 
 as they get sufficiently knowing to detect the pleasant de- 
 ception are prevented from making a disturbance by being 
 quietly removed from the audience. We talk of History, 
 foi*sooth — it is not History at all in the sense we take it 
 as l)eing all unbiassed and reliable, but rather romance 
 written by men who plume themselves on beinsr some- 
 thing more genuine than novelists, and claim as an 
 excuse for being prosy, that they are truthful. Here, too, 
 we may observe how wonderful it is the little some of these 
 are enabled to build upon, that is, I mean when they have 
 cleared away all the rubbish accumulated by rival 
 authors. Here and there a dead leaf, a dried twig, an 
 irrefragable knot, and on these they base their interesting 
 modern styled fabric, and grow those gorgeous avenues of 
 arboreal magnificence that do not only represent the lordly 
 manor of biographical story, and the stately boulevard of 
 matter of fact events, but open up an ever green and 
 blooming arch leading from the present back through the 
 
BYGONES OF HISTORY. 
 
 19 
 
 tionery, 
 cal ban- 
 iys;and 
 ped out 
 away as 
 1 Santa 
 but will 
 enchant 
 of ju- 
 he mar- 
 ier ones, 
 isant de- 
 by being 
 History, 
 e take it 
 romance 
 Iff some- 
 as an 
 ere, too, 
 of these 
 ey have 
 rival 
 wig, an 
 eresting 
 enues of 
 le lordly 
 3vard of 
 •een and 
 mgh the 
 
 ►V 
 
 i ut iind slough of exhumed generations to the Renais- 
 sance. So it is from the tiny attic of this or that 
 favorite author, we are enabled to lOok out, and at a 
 glance behold the wondrous fascination of the pjist down 
 through an illuminated vista wherein plays that mystic 
 fount of literary lore, whose pyrotechnic splendoi's, <lwind- 
 ling away into the remoter gloaming, are confounded in 
 the grotes<iue shadows of the anti([ue, or eclipsed in 
 the more refulgent lunacy of a traditional age. Notwith- 
 standing, however, the little value we may be dispos- 
 ed to set on History as Fact, taken an the commonly 
 accepted dandard of ti-uth, it is unimpeachable, and 
 hence the libraries of the world always have been, and al- 
 ways will be, esteemed an invaluable acquisition to the 
 intellectual wealth of mankind. But while, as we have 
 intimated, it is impossible for a reflective mind not to feel 
 a certain contempt for even such proiligious grar;ari€s of 
 knowledge as these, nevertheless, in the popular disposition 
 to believe and not to think, we find the ungracious task of 
 arraigning history opposed by such potent, not to say, 
 salutary influences as are dictated by public policy and 
 social conservatism. So it is, that nui-sed and cradled on 
 the bosom of a slumbrous faith, we glide tranquilly along, 
 lulled, rather than disturbed, by the rippling wavelets ; 
 and hence the fretful sceptic, who obtrudes his unwelcome 
 visage in opposition to the general current, is looked upon 
 by sects and institutions somewhat as the festive occu- 
 pants of a Mississippi steamer regard the protruding muz- 
 zle of some ugly " snag." 
 
20 
 
 UKVKRIKS OF AN OM) SMOKKR. 
 
 IV. 
 
 It is HO imicli more cont^onial to favor than eomlemn, 
 and feeling that the treasure of the dead is tlie}»irthri^ht 
 of the living, we woidd not see it ruthlessly plundered, or 
 even belittled — indee<l, it is the reading and transposing 
 of the sayings and doings of the defunct world, and reani 
 mating and blending them in our every day life and in- 
 tercourse, that seems to lengthen our existence ; .and it is 
 natural enough to suppose that,while such exercise enlarges 
 our comprehension of the future, it makes the record of the 
 past the fruitful study of the present. Leaving out, then, 
 the question of the truth or falsity of that record, and re- 
 garded simply as a heritage of useful precept, it is a bless- 
 ing; but as the medium for perpetuating old time spite and 
 grudge and feud, it, and all pertaining to it, is a curse as 
 much woi-se than hereditary disease, that whereas the one 
 only stints and afflicts an individual or family, the other 
 impoverishes and distresses not simply a nation, but a 
 whole race of people, and viewed in many ways, the ill 
 seems almost to overbalance the good. Societies, systems, 
 customs, come down to us festeiing and putrid with the 
 daminng sores of an incurable scurvy, the offspring of a 
 debauchery that would make ol)livion charity, and in 
 their most virtuous aspect scarred all over with the atroci • 
 ties of earlier generations. These, of themselves, are 
 wholesome warnings to stay awa}'^, and sermons of sur- 
 passing eloquence in favor of repudiation, but, unluckily, 
 w'ith many of these arc transmitted the germs of r(3newed 
 
BYGONKS OF HISTORY. 
 
 21 
 
 devotion, and the instruments of still further mutilation 
 and with all their " culture," a means of torture still 
 more highly refined. Strange as it may seem, too, these 
 art' revealed in the very resources by which we seek im- 
 munity, or at least a cure. In other words, we appeal 
 to our Doctors of Divinity, and fin<l them not healing 
 wounds, but irritating passions, and if not propagating 
 strife, at least nui"sing its offspring. So it is that, in this 
 dilenmia, we feel constrained to ask ourselves if we had 
 no " theology ; " if we had no " Doctors of Divinity," if wo 
 had norecordsof the past,how should we be affected ? Well, 
 we would, in the nature of things, have a religion, but no 
 Creed and then " sin," so far as we were concerned, wouhl 
 be in its infancy ; and, without the professor to teach us its 
 pedigree, it would lose one of its most popular claims to 
 aristocratic distinction, and we should feel in a measino 
 restored to the new-born democracy of primitive vi tue. 
 
 V. 
 
 No man can feel a profounder interest in the relics 
 of olden times than I, and yet the feeling with which 
 I regard many of them is, that their antiquity is their ex- 
 clusive virtue, and so far as the practical utility of the 
 things themselves are concerned, we may venture to affirm 
 they had been better not to have been so old. Amongst 
 these shreds of mummydom we glory, in here a tuft of 
 real hair — there a genuine molar — again a veritable toe- 
 nail — they constitute the only authentic points about his- 
 tory that give a tangibility to the past, and may bo 
 
22 
 
 REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKEK. 
 
 regarded as the black dots that punctuate our modern 
 chronicle of by -gone peoples and events — the blank spaces 
 between being filled up, as before noticed, to suit the taste 
 and prejudices of any subse(iuent age or sect, (furious 
 as are many of these relics in substance, so would lie and 
 are some of the more conservative rules of living — customs, 
 dogmas, creeds pertaining to theUi; but while I yield in- 
 voluntaiy homage to the venerable nsju'ct of any one of 
 these, I cannot withhold that sympathy inspired by its in- 
 firmities. Chronologically, dead, as it is, I find it im- 
 possible to take its stiff, pulseless hand, clammy with the 
 damp of mouldering centuries, and feel in it any of the 
 animating spirit of persuasion and none of the magic in- 
 s[)iration that cheers with " hope of new life." I am con- 
 vinced there is greater weight, and that we may place far 
 more reliance on experience and opinions, if not contem- 
 porary with, at least, approximating, our own special time 
 and condition. It may not be eloquent, it may not be 
 learned, it may not be refined, and yet in the weakest 
 voice that lives there is a power akin to the Mighty — the 
 word then, instead of percolating through the musty cat- 
 acombs of obsolete scholardom, or through the more mod- 
 ern, but no less irresponsible dust of mouldering experts, 
 comes direct from the living fountain of that human heart 
 which throbs in fraternal unison and sympathy with our 
 own, and which feeds and reanimates an intellect vital- 
 ized by that ever-rejuvenating Power, whose finger is upon 
 our pulse, and who sees and provides for the wants of 
 t^ach new second of our life. Hence it secnis to me, to en- 
 
BYGONES OF HISTORY. 
 
 29 
 
 p-aft upon our feeble and easily bewildered faculties the 
 |)estiferous perplexity and ever accumulating burden of 
 abstruse antiquated theorj'^ is to oppose instead of facili- 
 tating the purpose of its design, besides conflicting with that 
 wise and gi-ateful indulgence which, granting us immunity 
 from the past, also gives to each generation the instinc- 
 tive attributes incident and necessary to its preservation 
 and well-being both in this and the next world. Nay, it 
 is not on the battered tablets of Time ; not amongst the 
 uncertain hieroglyphics of an obsolete age we may seek 
 and find the solution of the exalted mystery of Life 
 and Destiny ; but rather in that revelation unfolded to 
 the simplest understanding, in the inexhaustible variety 
 of our beautiful, fructifying World, and we divine and 
 greet the gladsome presages of Fate, not in the extinction 
 but in the eternal reproduction of all things visible 1 
 There is nothing either in language or in script adequate 
 in expression to the ways of the All-wise, and we be- 
 hold the image of the Master only in the impress of his 
 Works. It was through this medium He revealed Himself 
 to the race at a period as far back as the invention of 
 seeing and hearing ; and the impression which our doc- 
 trinal tutors seek to convey, that the Author of Creation 
 should only have been known and adored since the dawn 
 of our very modem Christianity is a libel as false as the 
 egotism that records it is preposterous. 
 
 VI. 
 
 History, catering to popular prejudice, erroneously en- 
 deavors to make the worship of the Supreme Being not, 
 
^— ^ 
 
 u 
 
 UKVERIKS OF AN OLD SMOKKH. 
 
 only in pr-imitive tiiin's, l)ut in certain alien localities 
 Bince then, as grotesque aw [mssible ; indeed, those dusky 
 days without our sun are ma<l6 to constitute the darker 
 obscurity which heightens the contrast that glorifies our 
 modern enlightenment. It is only patent, perhaps, to 
 those who take the pains to think, how severe this must 
 be on those wlio have l)een so unfortunate as to precede 
 us; and, notwithstanding the immense leverage of jmblic 
 opinion to the contrary, I venture on the assumption that 
 even the earlier inhabitants of our globe, not U) mention 
 those like ti em contemporary with oui*selves, were as 
 sincere in their homage to our common Creator, and that 
 they commended themselves to Divine approbation (juite 
 as acceptably and as eftectually as do we in the present 
 day. It is true their mannei-s, like many other worthy 
 old fashions, may seem to us ludicrous in the extreme, 
 and their forms of worship may have partaken largtjly 
 of this apparent discrepancy, but I believe it was the fault 
 of appearances only — that their ceremonies, while being 
 simple were heart-felt, and although symbolical were all 
 the more efficiently adapted to the uncouth habits of a 
 people who, with all the damnable characteristics attri- 
 buted to them, never wanted in true devotion to, nor 
 lacked that guileless confidence in, the scriptless muni- 
 ments of their faith. We need not, I feel assured, in the 
 superabundance of our pious egotism, carry either our 
 sympathy or our condemnation, or our contempt, back so 
 far, and while pitying and praying, scoff and jeer at 
 those " poor lost heathens" who, we say, knew naught of 
 
BYGONES OK HISTORY. 
 
 25 
 
 our God, anil jKjrishe*! without our Saviour. In this 
 connection, we may venture, still further in the <lang«»rouM 
 role of speculator, an<l to any one of the countless mil- 
 lions who would conscientiously know what '^nwl inHu- 
 ence, if any, might have saved these " poor creatures," aye 
 and still succoi-s those like them, and to all those who 
 wonder what soi*t of a Deity they could have had, ami 
 may still have, I would say : — Throw down the stinted 
 volumes that aspei*se but do not explain the stoiy of their 
 darkened lives — crawl out of the gutters and sluice-ways 
 that feed without cleansing the fetid sewers of your 
 gluttonous " culture ;" mount up into the higher regions 
 of sun-light and pure air — up, like Moses did, to the 
 highest pinnacle of some lofty etninencc — and instea<l 
 of shutting your eyes in saintly communion, open them 
 wide and feast your vision on all you see ! Then if 
 you forget all about self in the multifarious charms of the 
 varied landscape ; if for a time your puny catechism, your 
 stingy creed, your cramped little church, and all the 
 peevish wrigglers that figure there, dwindle away to noth- 
 ingness, and are lost to thought — if in the rapture of 
 exstacy and awe you exclaim, how grand, how beauti- 
 ful, how sublime ! you shall, in the echo of your own im- 
 pulsive praise, receive not only the answer as to who was 
 and is the God of the heathen, but also imbibe a truer and 
 l)etter conception of the all prevailing infinitude of that 
 i-eligion which appeals alike to the pagan, the savage, the 
 iiiHdel, and to none more |K)werfully than to the unlet- 
 lered, the despised, the abandoned. 
 
26 
 
 REVRRIES OF AN OLD 8M0KKR. 
 
 VII. 
 
 There is a Form, whose outline in the perfect syniinetry 
 of the universe, and the harmony of whose parts is the 
 faultless Mending of creation. Its spirituality is heaven 
 its»'lf ; its substance, the earth. We look up at the sky 
 and see the benign attributes of its beaming Countenance, 
 and in the general aspect of this incomparable Being we be- 
 hold, inrapture,all the superb phenomena of Nature ! This 
 is the (jiod of the heathen, the Creed of the creedless, and 
 they need none of the auxiliaries of classic lore to teach 
 them, It is genuine. It is l)eautiful, It is Divine ! It 
 speaks to them in the thunder of the tempest. It whis- 
 pers in the sighing of the wind ; It prattles in the brook- 
 let. It murmurs in the sea ; It warbles in the sunshine, 
 It rumbles in the cloud ; It is wafted over sea and land, 
 — up the steep incline of mountain, down into the deep- 
 est declivity of valley ; It echoes amongst the dwelling- 
 places of the outcast, It searches out the most sequestered 
 haunts of man, and the humblest and meanest require 
 none of the splendid revelations of a learned creed to tell 
 them whose voice it is, and the heathen of ever so long 
 ago (not even excepting those of to-day), could they have 
 listened and felt there was no law, no government, no re- 
 straint ? No ! to the most primitive and unenlightened 
 of our race these echoes were, and are, the mandates of 
 &n indisputable authority, and they complied, and still 
 comply, with a guileless simplicity, whose unlettered creed 
 records no high-toned precedent for disobedience. 
 
DYOONI-ilS OF HISTORY. 
 
 27 
 
 Finally, let us ank how does our suKsidi/AMl theology 
 compare witli their unsophi.sticated faith. The geologist 
 amongst the rocks crumhles a hit of earth in the hollow of 
 his hand, and is lost in the |)ci-plexity of atmtnise analy- 
 sis—his standard isgold, his tlrenni profit. The "child of 
 the forest," near him, folding his arms in eont<Mnptof the 
 grovelling ra<lical, divines a suhlimer feature ii; the 
 grand tableau outspr«;ad Iwfore him, and raising his 
 glistening eyes in the prou«l consciousness of a still nohler 
 perception, sees in the majestic profile of the mountain- 
 si<lt3 the contour of the Supreme, ami in the uplifted arm 
 of some lofty overreaching cra,g a gesture of the Omnipo- 
 TKNT. 
 
^ee-Siito ni Sea. 
 
A SEE-SAW AT SEA. 
 
 (an item from the diary ok a (JREEN-HORN.) 
 
 I. 
 
 IT was a revelation in destiny too pregnant with fate 
 to call it mere news — those few lines, I mean, dis- 
 entangled from the inexplicable confusion of the puzzling 
 future, and laid before me in a neat, legible hand -writing, 
 conveying the unexpected, but no less welcome, intelli- 
 gence, that I was to take up my residence for an indefinite 
 period in London, England, the matter having been all 
 settled that I was to leave at once by the good ship S<fr- 
 matiany of the Allan line, advertised to sail from Port- 
 land, the 12th April. 
 
 Some time has elapsed since then ; but it seems only 
 yesterday I gathered ni}"^ traps together preliminary to 
 tlie journey in question, and having bade adieu to many 
 kind friends, and taken a tender leave of home, l>oarded 
 the train at Buft'alo, with a through ticket in my pocket 
 for the sea-bo2H*d, via Syracuse and Boston. A pleasant 
 and instructive route that way, it is too, as 1 can vouch, 
 there being an excellent service of traiiLsand a great deal of 
 enjoyable scenery ; indeed, whatever one's prejudices may 
 be, he can't well help admiring New England, with the re- 
 
32 
 
 4H 
 
 RKVKRIES OP AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 inin<ler it so cliarmingly piesfnts of OM Enj^lancl, an«l 
 though it may not ciilininatt; in a climax of such <,'ian- 
 ileur ami imjx)rtance as that which <listinguishos the cMer 
 monarchical sire, nevertheless one must admit Boston is 
 an honor and j^lory to the Fatherland, and although 
 comparatively in its haby-hood, as it is common to con- 
 sider all cities in the New World, it struck me, in the 
 mere glance I obtained of it as l)eing a remarkal>ly fine 
 youngster. With this preamble, I beg to avail myself of 
 my notes tsiken at the time, to cull the following items 
 from my diary as a Green-horn. 
 
 I was late in arriving at Portland, havin<^ stopped over 
 at Yarmouth, but there lost no time in g ocing fixed up 
 and putting on a disreputable old suit, which 1 had been 
 given to understand was the con-ect thing to do prepara- 
 tory to a sea voyage. Then I fussed about, and was impatient 
 to get off as a champagne cork, and knowing the uncer- 
 tainty to which all things are subject, the idea of being 
 left behind set me in a perspiration ; became nervous 
 at the thought all the rest might have, and probably had, 
 arrived on the scene, and were now discreet mBsters of 
 the situation, whilst I had recklessly put off m. f;';ijF:my 
 appearance till the last moment. I was struck in Ma 
 dilemma with the idea of inquiring, just when the ship 
 would sail ; it was a happy thought, and i bounced out 
 of my room in quest of the information. Alas, I could 
 get no reliable intelligence — nobody, not even the clerk 
 in the hotel, seemed to know anything about the matter 
 whatever. I became surprised, impatient, vexed ; it did 
 
A SKE SAW AT SEA. 
 
 33 
 
 e uncer- 
 
 not avail. I importuned ami ravcJ, 'i'Twiis all in vain." 
 HeiT! let me explain: — This narrative is only partially 
 exaggerated. I was a novice. I had come from afar — 
 from a country wliere the " Allan Line," its ships, and all 
 ahout them were household talk, and the prideand lx)ast of 
 the people ; but here, I bitterly retiected, ina great connner- 
 eial city, and the port of embarcation.the sailing of the aSVcj- 
 imd'ian, of the Allan line, was, oh, horrors, entirely ig- 
 nored, and all that I could find out from the different ones of 
 whom I inquired, and I gave them all a chance to redeem 
 their ignorance, and kindly offered them every opportunity 
 to tell me all they knew — I repeat, all they could tell me 
 was, — there was supposed to be an English line of steam^ 
 ers somewhere. This was my first set-back ; it was a 
 great blow to the pomp of my expedition, and my proud 
 spirit chafed at the obscurity that seemed to shroud its 
 great designs. In this show of ignorance and indifference 
 on the part of my countrymen, and the land for which I had 
 " fought and bled," there was, I felt, a sense of social obli- 
 vion that made me sad. I could have repined ; in my senti- 
 mental imagination it struck me forcibly that when an 
 ocean steamship was about to sail on a perilous voyage to 
 another hemisphere, freighted with human souls, the occa- 
 sion assumed an aspect at once solemn and imposing ; they 
 seemed like unto a company of voluntary exiles — repre- 
 sentatives as it were, of new and wonderful America — 
 called in the grand march of events by some laudable mis- 
 sion to sojourn, perchance, to lay down their lives amongst 
 a strange people afar off in the remote historic east. More- 
 
 c 
 
n* 
 
 RKVKUIES OK AN OIJ> SMOKKU. 
 
 over tlierc was .something to inspire symi);ithy in a colder 
 heart than mine in the thought that dearly loved " Col- 
 umbia " recked naught of this departure, and that the 
 handkerchiefs of our prospective band of patriotic spirits 
 must needs, all unobserved, grow damp, not with colds nor 
 moist noses but from the owners' wai'mth of feeling in the 
 ordeal of parting from kindred land. These meditations 
 occupied some time and were fostered rather than dis- 
 turbed by my having taken a pretty strong pull at a mug 
 of very mild ale, and thereupon I became a willing victim 
 to the seductive wiles of a most tempting cheroot. These 
 tranquillizing elements had the desired effect to soothe my 
 excited feelings, and soon I settled down to the comfortable 
 enjoyment of a serene spirit. The light blue fragrant 
 smoke as it curled gently and prettily upward, and hov- 
 ered around, seemed to form a hazy screen betwixt me and 
 the unromantic, unpleasing realities of the world about, 
 and shut in, as it were, apart from the annoyances and tur- 
 moil of things in general, there was something in the cosy 
 atmosphere of the " weed," suggestive of cloud land, and 
 straight-way imagination peopled the little sphere with 
 the images of those loved and absent ones whose smiling 
 faces and well remembered forms, blending in a cheery wel- 
 come, always lend a ruddy hue to one's thoughts, and while 
 they bring to mind the reminiscences of happy tiixies past 
 never fail to re-inspire one with hopes of good times to 
 come. 
 
 Waking with a sigh from these reveries, I turned re- 
 luctantly to the business in hand, called a " cab," hustled 
 
A SKE-SAW AT SEA. 
 
 35 
 
 my titips in and set out for the wharf wlicro it lm<l bcon 
 intimated the English steamer might })e expected. Here 
 too, I was again disappointed. Had been looking for- 
 ward to seeing an immense crowd of people and passengers 
 nearly, if not all arrived, and all the great preparations and 
 ado attendant on our near departure. On the contrary, all 
 was quiet ; a few boxes and odds and ends were being 
 stowed away, and a few listless individuals of the family of 
 tag-rag looking on, evidently without legitimate object or 
 interest, but there was nothing in the general aspect of 
 things to lead one to suppose the ship was not going to 
 remain there in perfect repose all summer. Well, I soon 
 ascertained I had made a mistake in the date of sailing 
 and that I would have to wait over till the next day, so 
 leaving my tnmk and other things in a conspicuous place 
 on deck I went back up town to my hotel. 
 
 II. 
 
 In the evening I went to the theatre, where I heard 
 there was to be a very entertaining performance. The 
 play was " Black Crook," a sort of pantomime, which, in 
 America as in England, means a bewildering exhibition 
 of lower extreiDities, in which the principal parts are 
 taken by legs; they don't say anything, but, notwithstand- 
 ing they are mute, the effect makes silence more impres- 
 sive than words. As regards the attire, I scorn to notice 
 so small and useless an item — suffice it to say, the skirt, in 
 this instance, stood out, and was about the same size and 
 
36 
 
 KEVEIUES OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 : 
 
 shapt' as a parasol — asi<le from tliis, a close Httiii;^ tnh of 
 some gauzy illusion was the only bill of expense art could 
 claim, or cold-hearted economy detect. There was, no doubt, 
 a Hjwll in ih&iweh — and notwithstanding it was of the most 
 doubtful reality, we, all of us, gazed in rapture. It might 
 have been spun in an exjjuisite caprice of Venus from peach 
 blossoms,and was ethereal as the fragrance of roses while to 
 the thoughtless eye of admiration it seemed no more than 
 the lusty glow of health or the Mush of maidenly embar- 
 rassment — aye, Nature might well sigh in envy of the 
 fraud, and old Dame Prudence herself so far yielded to 
 the fascination, that she forgot to frown, and, like in the 
 luxury of some rare, delicious dream, nodded approval, as 
 if, in this uncanny vision, she had seen only some l)ewitch- 
 ing phantom of l>eguiled innocence. My bachelor preju- 
 dices did not prevent my remaining till the end of the 
 performance, after which I sallied forth into the dreary 
 desolation of the night. Next morning I awoke with 
 the " Lark," but did not begin to fly till about nine 
 o'clock. Meanwhile, a tremendous storm of wind and 
 snow and rain had set in, and struck dismay to the 
 hearts of all who expected, in a few short hours, to have 
 their first experience at sea. On the way down street 
 to the wharf, I bethought me of the "Lemon Theory." 
 With my bump of credulity well developed, even at that 
 early day, I had yielded readily to the influence brought 
 to bear — indeed, was betrayed and ci-uelly deceived by tht^ 
 unanimity that had prevailed among my nearest and 
 dearest relatives and friends regarding the salutaiy effects 
 
A SEE-SAW AT SEA. 
 
 .17 
 
 ot* leiiiuiis catcii at sea. Vvoin a novice loii-sily Uucaiae a 
 convert, and finally got to believing with the rest, that 
 h^mons would make; .sea sickness pleasant. I espied a 
 fresh importation of this agreeable antidote through a 
 shop-window and paused. I seemed to hear the suasive 
 voice of friends in rei'choed injunctions, to buy some, and 
 hesitating only long enough to make a Ciireful esti- 
 mate of ca[)acity and means, finally hit upon an average 
 of twenty ; the idea suggeste* I itself also to add a few for 
 home-sickness also, so I invested in a total of two dozen. 
 Then 1 had a grand feast of oyster's, of which I am especi- 
 ally fond, and managed, notwithstanding my rai)idly ac- 
 cumulating responsibilities, to reach the ship in safety. 
 1 found about thirty passengers on board, and a great 
 deal of bustle and confusion ; my baggage had disap- 
 peared ; they left me a diminutive hand-bag and hat-box, 
 all the rest had vanished into that cavernous m3^stery 
 called the " hold." The storm had increased in severity, 
 and there was a strong likelihood of our having to remain 
 in port till it abated. This was not very cheering, and 
 my spirits had not risen with the appearance of the pas- 
 sengers, many of them a rough looking set, who, how- 
 ever, contrasted favorably with a couple of smartly 
 dressed, ostentatious owners of diamond bosoms, who 
 seemed to be local residents of the thriving " emporium " 
 of Portland. 
 
 The few ladies I saw, had no redeeming features 
 worthy of note; to say they could have been "adorned," 
 would probably be misconstrued into an unkind in- 
 
38 
 
 REVEniEH OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 'I 
 
 Hinuatiun, an<] might appear enviouH ; Nuttice it tlion 
 if I waive all considerations l)ut those most in accord 
 with the promptings of a generous nature, and simply 
 say, theirs was not the vulgjvr style of beauty one is apt to 
 see cherished outside the home circle. The discrepancy 
 in api)arel was attributable no doubt to the economical 
 custom of people going on a voyage to put on those gar- 
 ments which, in a fit of chronic abstraction, they have 
 worn beyond the period which had made them acceptable 
 to decent " charities" or fit offerings, in these days of sen- 
 sitive vagrancy, even to the most needy. I was in a de- 
 cidedly gloomy frame of mind when I went below and 
 sought the seclusion of my state-room, but as I entered, 
 my eye immediately lighted on a little package of let- 
 ters which had been placed there by some good angel. 
 These most kindly and welcome messages of love and af- 
 fection, had the effect to restore the tottering equilibrium 
 of failing good nature and almost brought teai-s of grate- 
 ful acknowledgment to my eyes ; indeed, I felt tolerably 
 happy for the rest of the evening. About ten o'clock I 
 crawled into iin odd little crevice, nautically called a 
 " bunk," and for the first time in my life tried to feel 
 at home, and sleep aboard ship. I did not sleep — I only 
 dreamt ; it was a pleasant night-mare, however, to what 
 might have been expected, and, though I afterwards 
 found the bed and blanket into which I had insinu- 
 ated myself, a very comfortable soi*t of contrivance, 
 to get to liking it is no doubt an " acquired taste." In 
 the moniing, we found the storm, which had raged fierce- 
 
A SEE-SAW AT SEA. 
 
 nu 
 
 \y all night, had in a measure Hpent its fury, and, though 
 it had not cleared off, preparations were being made to 
 get under way. In the meantime the certainty of hav- 
 ing to encounter a very rough sea, and many of us for the 
 fii-st time, made matters, in this respect, appear ominous ; 
 and we all looked that morning several shades bluer than 
 our average complexion. 
 
 III. 
 
 We breakfasted in dock, and about eleven o'clock, the 
 tide having served, the order was given to " Cast off.'* 
 There was a general rush for th'? deck, I being foremost 
 in the eager throng. Had donned my sea toggery, of course, 
 and now hastening to get outside, where it was snowy, 
 slippery and foolish to be, took up a position and struck 
 an attitude where I was in the way and most liable to be 
 knocked over, and tried to feel I was in f »r an enjoyable 
 holiday. 
 
 The fii-st sensations of " setting sail" were soon over, 
 and I began to lose all thought of self in the interest ex- 
 cited by the lazy majestic motions of the noble ship as 
 she began sleepily to respond to the action of her mam- 
 moth engines. We were very soon out of harbor, and 
 had only time to take a good look around before we 
 found oui*selves out on the broad ocean. For some 
 time I watched the movements of the sailoi-s and the 
 shij), and glanced again and again at the fast reced- 
 ing land, and thought, not without a pang, that Ame- 
 lica and "fatherland" would noon vanish from siirht. 
 

 40 
 
 IlllVKniKS OF AX 01, r> SMf^KKI;. 
 
 ■H 
 
 
 
 
 1 I 1 
 
 
 
 Altliuiipjli tin; iiovtlty of my pohitioii kf^^t iiiy th(>ii;»1it:i 
 Ixisy ami my utioiitioii (HtcupitMl for noiiic time, this iii- 
 terestiii;^ reverie was, ere Ion;;, interrupted l»y the liell 
 ringing for kmelieon. That lio.spitahle call, in this in- 
 stance, as on fomier occasions, failed not to rouse my 
 dormant energies, and I prepared to go below. I will 
 explain, that while taking my ohservations in the man- 
 ner descrihed, 1 had found it necessary to have a double 
 grip on the rail, and if 1 ha<l had ehiM's on my heels 
 I should not have been too proud or indifferent to have 
 made use of them also. We were now right in the midst 
 of a rough, cross sea, which had risen all the higher as the 
 wind went down. The ship, too, which had been so lazy 
 and sluggish in harbor, seemed to have shaken off its 
 lassitude and got, all at once, frisky as a dolphin and light 
 as a paper kite. I thought I was well up in the theory of 
 riding a refractory donkey, but the motion against which 
 1 now" had to contend batHed all the principles, lules, by- 
 laws and exceptions that might have l)een, or could possi- 
 bly be written on the subject of a graceful accjuiring of 
 one's "sea legs;" hence I lost no time in snatching at the ru- 
 diments of this much neglected science, and in holding fast 
 by main and tail. When I let go, as I did, to make for the 
 saloon, the vessel gave an awful lurch^I made a grab for 
 something I didn't get a hold of, it had vanished suddenly, 
 and I caught instead a handful of air ; all at once saw the 
 deck coming right up at my face; stared at it in blank, help- 
 less amazement ; then made a push at it with both hands ; 
 it sank by magic. Hai)pened to look over my shoulder and 
 
A SKE-SAW AT SKA. 
 
 n 
 
 aw my toriiiciitor coiiiiii;,^ tlic (»pjK».siU- wuy ainl iiiakiiij^ 
 iliiectly for my ri;j^lit ear; instinctively toIesfojK.'<l ii|»lit 
 lo;^ an«l |)ai«l out a van I or two of left ; it wasn't a bad 
 manfL'Uvre at all for a beginner, that wasn't, if 1 <losay so; 
 tlieoi"etically it was witliout a blemish, but chronological- 
 ly, it showed want of practice; it was a failure in |>oint 
 of time, that was all. I <li<ln't reverse my en;^ines soon 
 enough and the next instant found myself reclining gently 
 but firndy on my right side ; there was a pause in the ele- 
 ments and 1 looked up in considerable end>arras.sment to 
 see what nnght be the next item on the programme. My 
 posture was that of the " dying gladiator " ; enjoyed a mo- 
 ment's repose in that chissic postiue, and then scrand)le«l 
 up and resumed my interesting journey, at the same time 
 making greedy eft'orts to pick up and handle over every 
 thing I could lay my hands on by way of ballast and main- 
 stay. Indeeil, it was only by splicing odds and ends as 
 well as I could, to the object in hand, I made <nit at last 
 to reach- tlie door leading into the saloon. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Not having secured my seat in time, the one assigned me 
 was, of course, at the further end from where I was; this ne- 
 cessarily entailed ((uite a long promenade under more diffi- 
 culties and exposed to more observation than a modest can- 
 didate cares to endure, even under circumstances the most 
 favorable. I paused on the tlireshold to take aha.sty sur- 
 vey and to think how nice it was and how very invigorating 
 the sea air. Here again \anity rallied her vanquished 
 
42 
 
 RnvKrin-is OF AN <»rj) hmokku. 
 
 vm 
 
 \m I 
 
 eagles ; ami I iletennintMl to make a sensation and give 
 an impromptu exhibition of steady marching. I might 
 have succee<le<l hut the ship liehaveil l>a(lly and made my 
 standing apparatus "a dehision and a snare;" would plunge 
 forward a little way in right direction, then chass^ right 
 and left, then bolt. If I notice<l any one watching me I 
 would subside immediately, sit down and try to look as if 
 I had airived at my destination — that I had no idea of 
 going any further. Perhaps when that party looked back 
 again, after a while, to the spot where his impertinent 
 curiosity had left me serene, perhaps, I say, I wasn't 
 there ; may be I watched my opportunity when no bo<ly 
 was on the lookout, to venture forward. May Ihj this 
 was the case ; would not swear it was not. Supposing, 
 however, I was not there, and also allow'"<g that ingrati- 
 tude, blasphemy and despair, fit qual prominently 
 developed to invite interest and inquiry, I should have 
 been found, without a doubt, not far off — I know I should, 
 holding fast on some thing and contemplating in silent 
 anguish the vicissitudes of further progress. Reaching 
 my seat at last I dropped into it like an aerolite and 
 endeavored to look calm, unruffled and at home. Have 
 thought since, I overdid the matter of trying to seem at 
 home, and proljably assumed an aspect of more gravity 
 than is altogether in keeping with the enjoyment of 
 such a blessing. I thought, too, I detected an amused ex- 
 pression on the face of one of the stewards, and suspect- 
 ing the reason, glowered back upon that particular waiter 
 with a look of ill- concealed antagonism ; was impressed 
 
 
A 8EE-SAW AT SEA. 
 
 4:1 
 
 with a feeling that it wa.s not an appropriate concern 
 for a display of levity ; said nothing, however, directly ; 
 urn opi)Ose<l to reproving servants at tahle, and I refrained 
 now, but in answer to his very respectful inquiry as to 
 my wants, I said, with considerable asperity, " Lobster I" 
 While this was l)eing brought i took a glancearouncL ( )ppo- 
 site was the Rev. Arehdeacon McLean, of Manitoba, a 
 robust, happy father, in the nii<lst of a numerous family. 
 On my left was a Major Pope, of Quel)ec, a thoroughbred 
 old war-horse, and to my right, the owner of the diamond 
 studs. The lobster, with an elaborate dressing and the 
 tempting side up, was now placed before me ; and I forth- 
 with began the manipulation of this my favorite salad. 
 Was in no hurry, in fact began to think 1 was not hungry 
 after all, and that ii was rather spiritual divei*sion than 
 a carnal gorging I needed most. Indeed there was some- 
 where in the inscrutable regions of my sensitive organism, 
 a new-born hankering suggestive of some nameless rel- 
 ish, but iu the venal giasp of mere tteshly appetite, the soul 
 could rise no higher in its conception than to imagine a 
 tonic in the air Ah, was it the stuffy, soupy atmosphere, 
 I wonder ? I thought it was, there is such a dearth of ven- 
 tilation in these places— suppressed a sigh, and glanced 
 wistfully at the sky-lights. Am not sure but that I 
 had been feeling, for some time, just a little unpleasant- 
 ness; perhaps I had, but if so, ignored it as a cat 
 would a mouse. I tried to pass it oft' as constitutional, 
 I fought it down with conservative gallantry, and was 
 bound to " on with the dance." The ship at this i)eriod 
 
44 
 
 UEVRRFES OF AN OLD SMOKEH. 
 
 Ijc^aii tu kick her stem up inigiity hiyli, tlictnluwii, down, 
 US if she had no hind legs at all. I was sitting near tlie 
 tail end, as 1 said before, and conse(|uently, was in a posi- 
 tion to take a deep, I umy niiy, an agonizing interest in 
 these peculiar antics. There is no doubt in my mind 
 it was tliis diabolical motion that overcame — not my 
 resolution but my powers of resistance. Things began to 
 get confused and dark — there seemed about everything, 
 that peculiar shadowy undulation so charmingly chara(;- 
 teristic of marine life, with the additional variety of a 
 rotary accompaniment. T was conscious there was the 
 incipient stage of a revolution in my stomach, and also 
 had a melancholy presentiment of a conspiracy and an 
 uprising amongst the oysters 1 had taken into my confi- 
 dence at Portland. It was beginning to affect me badly, 
 and still I bore, not up, but dov/n ; even smiled at the 
 Major's last joke, a sickly, ghastly smile, which, had it as- 
 sumed the rank and volume of a laugh, would have been, 
 sepulchrally speaking, a success — that smile, however, 
 soon went away, it was not wanted by the only one to 
 whom it could appeal for patronage. I had a confused 
 idea that a good many people in the saloon were scam- 
 ])ering away — that there was a commotion among the 
 Archdeacon's family — the American was no longer visible, 
 and the Major was silenced. From gazing vacantly about, 
 I had settled upon a wild contemplation of the saloon- 
 door, and the least possible distance between me and se- 
 clusion. The boat made another vault up into the 
 Heavens, and collecting my disordered faculties for a 
 
A SEE-SAW AT SKA. 
 
 45 
 
 mi^'bty ettori, I cast oft" tVotn iny scat ami pa«l«llc(l for iny 
 stiite-room, regartlless uf cveiytliiuj^ save tlit* cunseious- 
 lU'ss that I was about [)assiii^ through the fearful ordeal 
 of misery at sea. 
 
 I ought not to attempt to drsrrihe what followed — 
 ought to leavi! it to be understood ; besides, it involves 
 the lemon seijuel, and it would seem so much more be- 
 coming and g(;nerous in me to save those friends and re- 
 latives of mine tlie remoi-se of knowing wliat misery 
 their lemon scheme entailed. Let it sutHce then for me 
 to say, which I do without malice or reproach, that when 
 the crisis came I went straight for that lemon pile like a 
 rat to its bane — laid hold of one, and witli a i)reliminary, 
 brief, as my wants were pressing, began sucking. I also 
 gave one to a friend and fellow-sufferer — he was a you rig 
 man, naturally delicate, and as I had done him this little 
 turn purely out of kindness, was rewarded in observ- 
 ing he now regarded me somewdiat in the light of a bene- 
 factor. I thought how glad the poor boy's mother would 
 be. Soon our mouths were too full for utterance, but in 
 the eye of each might have been seen to kindle vows of 
 mutual admiration and good-fellowship; and on the coun- 
 tenance of the chief lemon propagator, especially, exulta- 
 tion and tviumi)h basked in the full enjoyment of consci- 
 ous victory. But, alas, that feeling did not enduro. Oh 
 joy, why art thou transient ! We had sucked on together 
 not to exceed one minute, the picture of infantile gratifi- 
 cation, when I observed a great silent metamorphosis steal- 
 
I * 
 
 40 
 
 RKVKRIKS OF AN OT-D SMOKKR. 
 
 ing over the countenance of theyoung man, and a whitcnesH 
 like unto a fog settled down upon his naturally florid fea- 
 tures, all < which betokened an unmistakable change in his 
 barometer. I, too, began to feel a death-like sickness, 
 and a nausea which no language can describe; it seemed to 
 seize upon and monopolize, and pervert every natural func- 
 tion. We regarded one another in silent wonder and agony : 
 and there was mute, horrible disgust in theyoung man's eye, 
 as he fixed its dying gaze upon me, and pointed, with the 
 air of a man conscious, alas, too late, at the lemon I had 
 given him. He, no doubt, thought it was a contrived plan 
 to take a "rise" out of him. I was innocent, of course, but 
 felt, nevertheless, I had lost a friend and forfeited the 
 good- will of a fellow-being. I have a very vague recollec- 
 tion of what transpired for some time after this ; am quite 
 positive, however, about two things : first, I was not seen 
 skipping about the deck for manj'^ days ; secondly, I dis- 
 gorged all fanatical partisanship in the lemon theory. 
 My poor mortality for six long days was in sore distress, 
 but, thanks to the humanity of all on board, I was an 
 object of profound commiseration. On all occasions dur- 
 ing the time I have mentioned, there was an irrepressible 
 upward tendency — an unpleasantness " I struggled to for- 
 get." It was not till we hove in sight of Old Ireland, and 
 got a sniff of the fragrant odors of a land-breeze, fresh, 
 sweet and balmy from the heather-clad hills of "Erin," 
 that I began to take an interest in mundane affaii's, and 
 to cleave with renewed relish to "the world, the flesh and 
 the devil." As we steamed up Lough Foyle at early sun- 
 
A SKR-SAU' AT SKA. 
 
 47 
 
 rise of that fair spring morning, a marvellous recupera- 
 tion in Ixxly and spirit, made life again seem <lcar. There 
 was a gladness, too, in this fi]*st view of long-ch-eamed- 
 of foreign soil, that conquered all antipathies, even those 
 of illness, and as one poor ccmvalescent looked with ad- 
 miring gaze out upon the crumhling walls of " Green 
 Castle," it was not simply as a curious pile of picturesque 
 ruin it commended itself to his fancy ; nor yet as a 
 warning left there hy Time to admonish the overweening 
 strength of bumptious man; but rather the significant 
 exponent of a still greater change, the harl)inger of an 
 infinitely more felicitous destiny, -which, as a symbol, this 
 is only an inkling, and for which in language, there is no 
 phraseology, save, in like manner, to demolish as ex- 
 pressionless, all the worthless pile of kindless, meaningless, 
 vocabulary, and compress all the pathos of our nature into 
 that one best word, restored. 
 
£ 
 
ht §hi\bob) of the ©nb. 
 
 j> 
 
THE SHADOW OF THE END. 
 
 I. 
 
 T" TOOK up a newspaper the other day, and, glancing 
 -*- carelessly over its contents, was greatly shocked to 
 
 see the account of the melancholy death of young R . 
 
 It seemed to me all the more appalling that it should have 
 happened so near my home ; so close, indeed, that the shot 
 miufht have been heard in the dravvinjj-room. A friend 
 who was w^ith me at the time, and whose attention I drew 
 to the announceuicnt, expressed his disgust at it alto- 
 gether in terms of cutting reproof. Then he threw the 
 paper down in high dudgeon, and 1 thought not without a 
 look of contempt, as he regarded my grieved expression. 
 After this, when alone, on different occasions, my thoughts 
 would recur to the subject, and now and again I found 
 myself rapt in a profound reverie, in which I was con- 
 trasting my own conuniseration with liis indifference, or 
 rather, I should say, his condemnation, and trying to de- 
 duce therefrom what might be the relative bearing of 
 public opinion in the premises. These reveries gave rise 
 to thoughts, also, having a kindred leaning toward the 
 others, and the following is a hasty and imperfect group- 
 ing of ideas following the train of reflection as above. 
 
r)2 
 
 REVKRIKS OF AN OLD SMOKKR. 
 
 i ^ 
 
 
 Althou*^h thia subject presents some rather unpleasant 
 features, it is not without a fellow interest to us all ; not 
 excepting those whose peace and comfort render the thought 
 of it foreign to their speculation. As regards the nature of 
 this young man's death, some people profess to be in- 
 dignant in reading and hearing of such cases, that anyone 
 can be so unreasonable, so rash, in short, so depraved ; 
 especially if there happen to be, as in this instance, a 
 woman mixed up in the affair. They may be shocked in a 
 comfortable sort of way, to be sure, but seem withal not a 
 little pleased, as it brings into more enjoyable contrast 
 their own good fortune. Nay, there is a tingling of self- 
 gratulation at their special immunity, these bad cases, 
 even, being regarded, in one sense, as a not unwelcome re- 
 minder of their own su[)erior virtue and merit. Peo- 
 ple who feel this way, and they are many, no doubt 
 are deserving and especially favored, and as such are 
 to be envied and congratulated ; they are, for the most 
 part, married men and women who have slipped easily and 
 comfortably into harness, and, in the quiet hum-drum of 
 every day existence, are as ignorant as brutes, and quite 
 as unconscious of a most formidable misery and danger 
 menacing us all, and which, forsooth, they may have nar- 
 rowly escaped themselves. Might we not imagine, a pair 
 like these, if they interfered, or let the (juestion trouble 
 them at all, would be the most appropriate and natural 
 champions of the " blessed state of holy matrimony. " 
 But here again is exhibited the most disagreeable perver- 
 sity uf human nature in general, and man and wife in par- 
 
THE SllAn<»W OK TIIK KNO. 
 
 5S 
 
 ticular. Comfortably cudtllecl up in their cnlm <lomostic 
 havens, they have no sympathy, no pity, if they give a 
 thought to those outside the bar, on the billow, in the fog, 
 amidst the stonn ! Perhaps, I carry the simile too 
 far, I will cany it still further : they will, and do, fro- 
 (|uently, even change the lights that guided them to their 
 own safe moorings, choke up the channel by which they 
 entered themselves, and give those outside, who are 
 trying to beat in against wind and tide, to understand 
 they must come in some other way ! The conditions, in 
 the awful problem of eligibility^ are all changed since 
 their time, and parents say, " our children must not suffer 
 what we have suffered ;" forgetting it was the trudging 
 together up the steep incline of their early, fresh conflict 
 with the world, that they themselves enjoyed the most. 
 Ah, what was their privation but the edge that fasting puts 
 upon the appetite; aye, and while, in all the crusty bilious- 
 ness of their later years, they have not found a "nabob 
 sauce " to equal it, yet they say " our children must not suf- 
 fer as we did." No ! the boon that satisfies youth's great 
 hungering rapacity will not suffice. " Live on love, in- 
 deed!" and the old set, with the sweeping egotism of over- 
 ripe wisdom, bestir themselves, with broom in hand, and 
 swooping down on a great wealth of youth's sweet, floral 
 dream, binish the rose leaves from his path. The fact i.s, 
 it is the scheming and advising and opposing that keep 
 those out of the fold who would otherwise come in, in 
 joyousness and safety ; and this is not unfrequently fol- 
 lowed by the most lamentable results, as in the case I 
 
' i 1 
 
 ll 
 
 54 
 
 RKVKHFKS OF AN OLD SMoKKR. 
 
 liave iiistaiicril. Wrecks at sea ato of no acroiuit, — at 
 It'ast, we need not concern oMi*Melves alN)ut tlieiii, they are 
 provich'ntial — tliey are those aloii^j; the sliores that fringe 
 our garden lawns, that are most deph)rable, and for these 
 we arc all mutually and severally rcsponsihle. 
 
 II. 
 
 : i. 
 
 : A 
 
 As things are, considering all the caprices and hreak<'rs 
 and perils to which we are subject in the love period of 
 our lives, it is mueli to be deprecated, no doubt, tliat the 
 
 thousands and millions in the toils like poor R was, 
 
 might not have restrained themselves in time, and b«;en 
 more careful how they indulged their mind to drift into 
 such a miserable state. What a sad truism it is that '* the 
 course of true love never did run smooth." The only ob- 
 jection, however, to that saying is, it expresses the trouble 
 altogether too mildly and apologetically ; but then again, 
 it ishard to tell young people all we fear, and lay beforethem 
 all the miserable alternatives that, in our mature observa- 
 tion, commend themselves all imfavorably to our discre- 
 tion. It is hard to point, with our shaking nerve and 
 shrivelled hand, to the withered fields about and say, the 
 same drought, the same blight, shall visit, except on the most 
 tryingconditions, your own sweet flo^veiy land ! The ten- 
 acity of love, and the hostility it so innocently and yet so 
 aptly engenders, the "crosses" to which it is subject, and the 
 unhappy results of which this subject is an example, all 
 tend to make that " ten<ler passion " the most dangerous 
 
 nr ' 
 
THE SH\f^)W OF THE END. 
 
 55 
 
 element in our constitution; and in inverse ratio to all those 
 Hweet conceptions of which it is prccniinontly c pahle, it 
 is susceptihle to a misery e(|ually exquisite. \ pity 
 the man or woman to whose lot falls the latter por^ 
 tiou ; and, although it Is a fate which unfortunately com^ 
 prises at least half the pain endured by the human race, 
 it is univei*sally i«(nored or sneered at and contemnod, 
 and seems to find no room in the category of ills that en- 
 list people's sympathy. The reason for this stony-hearted 
 indifference, generally, may be found in the relation of 
 well-fed luxury to starving barefoots ; take for example the 
 great married world, with them the charm of love's anxious 
 quest has, in possession, been dispelled and their rapture 
 vanished into lethargy. Very many of these, feeling theni' 
 selves to be in some degree victims of a species of con- 
 nubial legerdemain, retaliate the delusion — of which 
 they are conscious — back upon the unsophisticated, un- 
 suspecting, legion of youth and credulity. Here, let me 
 confess at once, that, with all due respect for the quality 
 medicinally, I am not one of that numerous following who 
 glory in and extol " experience ;" in many cases it is only 
 a pardonable sort of intolerable egotism, with a goodly ad- 
 mixture of prejudice gloomily tinged with superstition, 
 and, so constituted, is indulged and reverenced chiefly on 
 account of tL.; seniority of its claim and its hoary head. 
 But take genuine experience! without the other — I was 
 about to say, necessary accompaniment of a venerable as- 
 pect to make it estimable — could it be transmitted or were 
 it so, what a heritage of sorrow, what an exploded bubble 
 
 i 
 
 if* 
 
u 
 
 m 
 
 UEVKIIIKS OK AN n|,|) sMoKKIl. 
 
 i*' 
 
 of plrnsure it wonM proscnt and wliat inisomblc joyI«'as 
 iikhIcIh of prudtmcr and wisdom, wc should all l>e ! Nay, 
 it MooniH rather that the illusions of life should all come 
 fresh and hlooiniujLf to each and Iw enjoyed hy each j:;en- 
 cmtion over and over again. The mentors amongst us 
 may see in them none of tlie golden sheaves that garnish 
 the later and moie prudential harvest of autumn; hut the 
 " Cliristmas" genius of youth is, after all, hetter than that 
 of the old set and without the grey heanl of the snow and 
 ic<; season to commend the brutal crucifixicm of flesh and 
 Mood, there is, even, in their seeming tvant of experience, 
 the instinct of a purer, diviner spirit shining on and light- 
 ing up the way of life's early pleasure with its illimitable 
 wealth of buddinir follies. It is the radiance of a redeeminj; 
 gi'ace depicted in those illusions which, gleaming through 
 the freezing lethargy of winter blossom in the fragrant 
 beauties of spring. And what a heritage of wealth those 
 bright fancy pictures are — the bii-thright of the hum- 
 blest, they are all that make life tolerable or enjoyable in 
 any sphere, and disponed, are all that make us in the least 
 resigned to die. Mothers who com})lain of penniless pro- 
 spects, what sweeter or more precious dowers than 
 these would you ask for your children ? With therti, 
 leasoning in this way is not ])hilosophizing, it is only 
 the thoughtful use of a little common sense ; it is not 
 the second sprouting of a seedy intellect nor yet the super- 
 annuated phantasy of "second sight," it's the child opening 
 its eyes in the impulse of sublime instinct an<l niaking use 
 of the thankless but inestimable boon of unsophisticated 
 
TIIK SHADOW OF TIIK KNI>. 
 
 .V7 
 
 <sijrht, that is all. Am T rifjlit ? If so, I am oncoiimj^od to arM 
 my protest ajijniiist oM ajje ami exporlencc, laying,' Iwirc thoir 
 wisdom to the juvenih*, and pniniiij; away those sproiitH 
 and pluckinj,' that foliage kindly intended by nature not 
 only to beautify the budding «prij( of the young, but to 
 hide and to reperfume the withered trunk of the old. 
 It is only my poor protest which I know is of no avail; 
 and the crabbed asceticism of what is called " maturer 
 years" will continue to set its wrinkhMl visage against the 
 rouiping scenes of yore. I can see it in my mind's eye, 
 starting in bilious fright at the very mention of what we 
 liked in the pie and cake and plum-duti* period of our life, — 
 I can see it glaring on me as I write these lines, and read 
 my sentence as in the hand-writing on the wall, " exiled 
 from grace ! " But turning, like the soldier alx)ut to leave 
 the field, I would have a parting shot, and I reiterate, the 
 older set have no business to intrude their dyspepsia on 
 the young ; nor, as they would dust the cob- webs from 
 their own antiquated cuddies, sweep the rose leaves out of 
 tlieir path. 
 
 nr. 
 
 As regards the manner of the death of the young man 
 to whom I have referred, and with him may be included 
 all that class of unfortunates who rest under the bane of 
 suicide, it may be thought in bad taste to say anything. 
 While I am far from despising that cautious eulogism which 
 dubs silence " golden," and, while I would not inti-ude up- 
 on that dreadful stillness brooding over those most tongue- 
 less and pitiless of all gri« is, nevertheless 1 would raise 
 
 
58 
 
 REVKRIKS OF AN OLD SMOKKR. 
 
 my voice in unqualified denunciation of an ordinance that 
 makes the transient sin of the living the perpetual |)ro- 
 fanation of the dead, and against that abominable incon- 
 sistency which, while it utters a benediction with its mouth, 
 can with its hand subscribe an interdict, .aye, l)oth on 
 one and the same person. These people, the unfortunates 
 I mean, and the}' are far moie numerous than it is cus- 
 tomary to admit, belong to a class whose troubles, for 
 whatever cause, make them miserable ; they may not be 
 shoeless — they may not be hungiy, but they suffer an in- 
 finitely worse privation, — it may be in some disaster they 
 fancy irretrievable, or it may be in the possession of faults 
 which in the later stages and especially in the end, iso- 
 late them like a leprosy from all human or available 
 sympathy. This grade of suffering offers in itself a 
 very wide field, and is not in that respect, as I 
 have said, confined, necessarily, to the gutter and street 
 and to the viler habitation of the indigent. The 
 sort we see prowling about, hankering for something 
 to eat and to drink and to wear, is bad enough, but that 
 is all a mild sort of bodily discomfort in comparison to 
 what may be experienced in another way ; I speak not 
 now of the misfortune of simply being bankrupt in body 
 or estate, but in mind, and of being not necessarily insane 
 but altogether hopeless. Some of these cases, could they 
 be seen, as we see others in the spectacle of mere ordinary 
 mishap, would present a picture of mental distress than 
 which there could be none other so ghastly or appalling. 
 Here we may observe, it is not pleasure alone that has 
 its goal but adversity also, and each of theso is the anti- 
 
THE SHADOW OF THE END. 
 
 59 
 
 porlcH of tlie other. Iii our (enjoyment we conj^ratulato. 
 ourselves that the latter, the darker one, is far away in 
 another yet uncxi)lored hemisphere; but as in pleasure's 
 ^'oal after which we are all yearning, so in that of adver- 
 sity which we seek to avoid, we may Im in the midst of 
 both and reeoj,niise neither. The fact is, there is a Jericho 
 in which we colonize all but what contributes to our^iu- 
 titication, and with these far-off exiles of trouble we com- 
 municate, if at all, throu«j;h the medium of a winged virtu , 
 dubbed " charity." It is a natural aversion, I mean that 
 which we have for the less fortunate ones— and it is a hu- 
 man impulse to shrink away. Some there are whose good 
 fortune it is to enjoy exemption from most all kinds of 
 suffering, and such a respite ought to be, of itself, cher- 
 ished as the sweetest and most valued of all our carnal 
 treasure. Nevertheless, we cannot by any artifice of our 
 own avoid the dreadful scourge altogether and perman- 
 ently. Indeed, try, as hard as we may, to keep it some- 
 where else, it crops up all around, and we do find it des- 
 })orately hard to build a place for misfortune and its vic- 
 tims, and to sequestrate them and localize them as, in our 
 benevolence, we do poverty and contagion. 
 
 It may be, and probably is, a source of consolation that, 
 as I said before, we do not always know, much less re- 
 spond to, the greatest suffering even when we see it. 
 Wrapt in all the gory paraphernalia of catastrophe, we do 
 recognise it and shudderingly commlsemte ; but the real 
 pain, like the danger that leads to it, very frequently we 
 ntterly ignore. Oftentimes, no dou]>t, because it does not 
 
 Im 
 
r,o 
 
 UKVKR1F.S OF AN OLD SMOKKll. 
 
 \Vear, and in fact it rarely does, the aspect, we are taught, 
 most unmistakably characterizes the direful. Oh yes, it is 
 all so different from what it has been so blunderingly 
 painted, we may even associate with it and not know it; 
 we converse with it, it does not tell us ; we wish it a good 
 morning, a happy new year, it thanks us pleasantly and 
 seems to reciprocate our good will. We see it breathing 
 the balmy airs of spring, and basking in the sunshine that 
 lights up and inspires nature's gi-eat floral concert, and 
 we think it, like ourselves, participating in the great 
 universal song of rejoicing creation ! Ah, there was a 
 pardonable deception in the smile that welcomed our 
 cheery salutation and although, in our careless greeting 
 we did not penetrate its thin disguise, there was in that 
 gay device a veil of tears that screened the good-bye tribute 
 of a broken heart. Still, how far were we from recog- 
 nising in it all the indescribable pangs the poor fellow 
 must have felt who may then have been on his way to 
 throw off a burden under which he had made, perchance, 
 a plucky attempt to f^tand and was game to the last. 
 Though it be not orthodox, may we not draw near (ought 
 we not to) and sympathise with these most unfortunate 
 ones ? Many, we know, possessed as kindly hearts, as noble 
 impulses as ever inspired a good deed. It is not sufficient 
 to say they lacked the callous stoicism of old age, or the 
 dutiful observance of her pet and unimpressionless 
 pupil, it was rather, they ^vere wanting in the exemption •, 
 and promiscuous good luck of those who condemn. But do 
 I believe that in the cursed oblocjuy attaching to their 
 
TKK SHADOW OF THK END. 
 
 (Jl 
 
 u^iit from this world they may not have found the other 
 brighter sphere ? No ! Some court death in tbo fury of 
 battle, others in the hopelessness of despair; it is self 
 immolation, the one as much as the other, only in the 
 former case life is ignored, in the latter repudiated. I am 
 aware that to court death, in the midst of [)rosperity, is 
 heroic ; at least, it is deemed so by the same judges who 
 denounced the throwing oft* of the burden in adversity, 
 as ignominious. However this may be, I verily believe, 
 that, in the sight of God, the latter do not suffer for, 
 or in accordance with the stigma of our Church and Creed. 
 If the seductive influences that betray virtue and honor 
 may be regarded as an inkling of all the world's supei- 
 abundant charms, — if the eflfect of yielding clandes- 
 tinely, be the visitation of all that excruciating remorse 
 which, thanks to the hideous night-mares of the moral- 
 ist restrains and deters, — then, how contrary and uncon- 
 genial to all our natural impulses must be that temptation 
 which inclines us, not to the gorging of appetite, but to 
 the disgorging of the very fountain of all delight within 
 us, and to precipitate, not the " prick of conscience" but 
 the pang of death. 
 
 H 
 't 
 
 
 ;-i :, i 
 
 But he e it may be charged reproachfully to my account 
 that I am encouraging suicide. I am not. I am condol- 
 ing with the mother, that is all. She whom I see so often 
 and so wistfully regarding the great pious banciuet for 
 the "crumbs" that do not, and are not, permitted to fall. 
 
 
 
02 
 
 UKVERtES Ot* AS' OLD SMOKfclt. 
 
 
 it' the '^liiiiiiicrin;: that IMits licr cheerless hearth is 
 iiiisplaced, then am I, and, indeed, all of us, astray and de- 
 ceived in the source whence in distress we bon'ow com- 
 fort. Encourage self-immolation ! Say rather discourage 
 the pei'fidy and cruelty that leads to it ; besides, we should 
 require no argument to teach us it is the last thing a sane 
 mind wouM think of, and then only to be repudiated. 
 I claim no amount of encouragement would in the least 
 incline a man to an end whence he is repelled by all the 
 potent instincts of our pain-dreading nature. But how do 
 "our Charities " regard him in this awful dilemma ? They 
 are silent; they, like our " Creeds," sul)serve a heartless 
 policy, and lack the moral courage to speak ; but this is 
 explained in the fact that according to the strict inter- 
 pretation of a rigid and exclusive orthodoxy, the poor 
 creature is without the " fold," and the earth ha8 no soil 
 dirty enough to receive him. Thus in our pious officious- 
 ness we undertake to inflict a share of the sentence of 
 *' damnation," which we take for granted has been pro- 
 nounced ; and yet who shall say that that grave, all se- 
 questered and tabooed, is not the object of an especial 
 providence. The mind is subject to even greater calami- 
 ties than the body, and in the isolation of a great pitiless 
 trouble it is marvellous it does not oftener succumb ; bat 
 reason once dethroned, and all the kingly attributes of a 
 rational mind awry, who shall say the afflicted one is 
 not the object of the most benign commiseration, and that, 
 turn which way he will, his poor benighted faculties may 
 not detect a glimmering that shall guide him lumie. Alas, 
 
TltK SHADOW Ok' THE ESD. 
 
 (;:j 
 
 ye poor tii;>oidorcd Kingdoui, liow sadly desolate, how worse 
 than war or pestilence are the ruva«^es that level thy 
 l)Oinidaries, and send Reason a cmzed fugitive into the 
 • lesert of the Daft!! But then, stronger than the first 
 •;;reat law of self-preservation, is still left the poor dismant- 
 led crown — the last resort — I mean, the all-powerful pre- 
 rogative of irresponsibility. That isa sliield sacred aniongst 
 barbarians, and respected, to some extent, even in the re- 
 finement of (Civilization. 
 
 We often hear it said, " he could not have been de- 
 langed, he was so composed and delilicrate." Have you 
 never, in moments of imminent danger, felt a great calm 
 Hteal over you i we may speak, then, quietly, coherently, 
 in accents of subdued intensity. Thus, when our per- 
 ceptive faculties are all alive, our senses otherwise may 
 be entirely engrossed as one in some dreadful trance or in 
 the contemplation of some horrid phantom that seems in its 
 snake-like fascination to charm away all agitation, and 
 to neutralize all resistance. I know it is quite possible 
 to feel that way, and, while these poor unfortunates 
 may appear at ease and tranquil, they are not. It is the 
 fixed deliberation of the somnambulist who glides out 
 upon the roof of a lofty building and moves along the 
 very eaves of the fearful precipice placid and unconcern- 
 ed ! In supreme moments, often, there seems a stilling 
 of all our nervous system so mercifully soothing as almost 
 to paralyze, and outwardly, we may appear, unmoved and 
 unruffled by even so much as the slightest irritation. 
 So it is people are surprised it is possible one can look 
 
 >i 
 
04 
 
 RKVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKKll. 
 
 
 up with inditteicncc at the gleaming axe which is about 
 to sever his head and say, with the nonchalance of Sir 
 Walter Raleigh, " Thou art a sharj) medicine but a sure 
 cure for all ills." Before this can be brought about, Hope 
 must have perished ; Jind that may be accom[)liyhed by 
 one of two potent influences, either unavoidable necessity 
 that pronounces one's doom and the awful reality is 
 forced u})on one that there can be no appeal, or, dire des- 
 pair. In the first place it is aggressive, and the inexor- 
 able verdict before which Raleigh bowed was " you must 
 die;" on the other hand it is passive, and one's condition, 
 though even more terrible, is not brought about, as 
 in the former case, by a brutal judge, a beastly jury, 
 backed by a depraved and maddened herd, whose 
 cry was blood, — but rather in the stealthy develop- 
 ment of inexplicable Fate, surrounded by every kind- 
 ly and fostering influence — or perchance ({uaffed at 
 the festive board in the impulse of good-fellowship, and 
 in the dregs of an all too delicious nectar. Thus life may 
 not and need not be destroyed at a blow to morally con- 
 stitute suicide, but in the more gradual and -till no less 
 fatal mdulgence in some dreadful habit. Then the 
 mind, inoculated with a virus more deadly than the poison 
 fang of Cobra, seeks with the resistless perversity of a 
 thing that is doomed, its antidote in the very evil by 
 which it is afMicted, and its refuge, in the most appalling 
 of all calamities. Take, for example, one of the tliousands 
 whose ease corresponds to such apredicament, — the poor fel- 
 low was never wholly unmindful of his danger, but seemed 
 
THE SHADOW OF THE END. 
 
 65 
 
 powerless to struggle against it. It is as if the Fates had con- 
 spired in the production of a beautiful reptile, which while it 
 fascinated was preparing to destroy. There he ia with 
 the glittering folds gathering closer and closer about him, 
 and still so dazzled and wrapt in the dreadful embrace that 
 he yields to its sinister charm, and not even biding his 
 time, moves impatiently forward to meet his doom. We 
 see him gliding onward to the inevitable end, may naught 
 be done to save him ? may not some kindly hand be 
 raised to turn that dreadful fate away. Rarely is it 
 that affection may not avail when all else fail ; espe- 
 cially, when it is only persuasion that is needed, and 
 tho ills are those of body and blood and may be comforted. 
 And is it possible this poor youth may have no friends, 
 no home ? He has a home, he has a sister ! Ah, thank 
 God for that, we exclaim on the impulse, at the mention 
 of so potent a cure. Yes he has a sister whose tender heart 
 in the hush of a mighty solicitude, prays the storm-cloud 
 may pass away, and then, dissembling her own sorrow and 
 despair,she points to the splendid arch reflected through her 
 tears, exclaiming gaily, *"Tis a rain-bow at night, brother, 
 be of good cheer ! " There is one brief moment of intel- 
 ligence vouchsafed the afflicted one ; a great light breaks 
 over those pale, wan, harassed features — who shall divine 
 the awful pathos of that look, — and a sob that seems to 
 shiver all the pent-up idols of his little world, breaks the 
 narrow boundaries of long suppressed agony. In that cry 
 the flesh collapsed ; its anguish was the expiation of tha 
 
 body, its echo the song of the rejoicing spirit. Finally, in 
 E 
 
 
66 
 
 KEVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 the case of him who severed the thread of life At a blow, 
 let it suffice to add : — the pious sycophants of a fastidious 
 creed, may deny the lifeless, resistless clay, " Christian 
 burial" — aye, they may continue to heap their little moun- 
 tain of obloquy on his giave ; but they may not say to the 
 daisy, and the violet, and the lily, ye shall not bloom there, 
 and roun<l the slab which marks that most desolate mound 
 behold a living vine! They mingle their sweet perfume 
 with tho hope thereon inscribed, and entwining the letters 
 in wreaths redolent with blossoms that shall never blight, 
 reveal these lines : — 
 
 SUFFKRINO, HE SOUOHT RELIEF IN PAIN : TROUBLED, HE 
 FOUND REDEMPTION IN TRIRULATION. 
 
HE 
 
 [orboab io ^tcktnhttm. 
 
 '4* 
 
 H 
 

 t':it 
 
^^'•^- 
 
 NORWOOD TO BEOKKNHAM. 
 
 ^:;.f^ 
 
 '.S'iv/) 
 
 I If AD a very pleasant walk to Heckciiliain, nut long ago 
 — it is not far from where I am livin;:, and one can 
 just make it out four or five miles away, neHtled cosily 
 anionir the trees and hills of Kent. Imajrine it a briirht 
 pleasant morning of a Sunday, as it was when I took the 
 walk in (piestion, then, after doing hearty honors to a goo<l 
 breakfast, stepping out into the fresh, invigorating air 
 of the Highlands, for a stroll in the country, with the 
 valley and opposite slope of th*^ Surrey hills in prospect 
 All things above, seemingly aHo.d, in a rosy sea of that 
 peculiar, lazy haze of an English atmosphere : and all be- 
 low, reposing under that potent spell whidi the Sabbath, 
 in this country, casts over all the busy doings of the week. 
 < >ne is struck, for a moment, to observe how marvellous it 
 is that the din and roar of London, v\ hicb, on any other 
 rlay, is waft«'d to the ear and sounds like the far-off* con- 
 flict of storm and ocean, this day is hushed and silent as 
 the 1 leath of aslund^erinjj infant; and of all the deafening' 
 babel of its countless multitudes, and of all the uproar of 
 its enormous traffic, nought is heard now, but tlie drowsy 
 murmur of insects, or the rustling of tiny leaves, — the 
 
 
 «4^ 
 
70 
 
 IlEVKUIRS OF AN OLD SMoKKK. 
 
 cawing of rooks, or the far-off chime of villa*]fe chiircb- 
 belk 
 
 From the lirijilits of Upper NorwcKjd, or say from the 
 C'ryHtai Pnlacr, looking south towards ( 'royilon and Ad- 
 ington, an<l so round eastward towards iieckenliam, there 
 is obtained one of the loveliest views that can be im- 
 agined. It would be impossible ♦<) tleseribe a [)icture of 
 scenery adecjuate to tliat presented from this standpoint; 
 and ordinary language beggars even simpli* justice, in an ef- 
 fort to convey to one three tliousund miles away, the en- 
 chantment of landscape, the superb garb, the numberless 
 winning ways, Nature here dons to greet the eye and re- 
 fresh the spirit of poor wandering mortality. Indeed, one 
 must have seen and felt, to appreciate, the magic charm, 
 the delightful pang, in thatso-sorry-to-leave penalty, which 
 the witching goddess heie inflicts on the happy unfortunate 
 found trespassing in this her rural Paradise. The beauty 
 of the palace -grounds, is proverbial and unsurpassed, and 
 I mean now not only these, but the noble range of 
 country beyond, which, from this point, the eye com- 
 mands for miles around. One is just high enough to get 
 a good view of the valley below, which is about five miles 
 across to the hills of Surrey and Kent opposite. To the 
 right and left of this, the range is extended a long way 
 in the form of a crescent, and within this scope a be- 
 wildering variety of most baautiful landscape is unfolded. 
 At the first glance, it looks a bit wild, — there are so 
 many trees, that it appears more like broken forest inter- 
 epei*sed with mt?adovv land upon irregular ground of hill 
 
NORWOOD TO RECKEXHAM. 
 
 71 
 
 and d»le. The rich, dark ^reen of numberless luxuriant 
 treen, the wild yet superb profusion of shrub, and the 
 soft velvety verdure of the fields, make Nature, for a 
 time, the whole object of one's admiration. A» you ap- 
 proaclh however, and look more closely, almost hid- 
 den away amid the most charminj;j of rustic retreats, 
 you presently discern the ivyclad walls of Elnj^lish 
 homes; around which, in all the imposing panoply of 
 brawny arms and abundant foliage, staml, in careless yet 
 magnificent array, that aristocratic phalanx of stately 
 oaks and queenly elms. Nor must I forget to mention, — • 
 as we plod along through the midst of this, what always fas- 
 cinated me from the first — I mean the porter's lodge — 
 that rustic littlegera of artand nature ingeniously combined, 
 which guards and embellishes the outer pale of English 
 hospitality. Nay, nor rest content, till I have awarded 
 my humble meed of praise to those models of domestic 
 comfort, the pretty manners, and beguiling airs, which one 
 cannot help admiring in an English cottage. The gra.ss, 
 in that bit of lawn in front, looks so sleek, and is kept 
 so trim ; and those .shrubs and flowei*s look .so fresh, and 
 smell so sweet ; and all wreathed round in a pretty bar- 
 rier of holly hedge, who can resist its .shy, co.sy 
 look. One may be puzzled, at first, to understand its 
 numberless corners and its variety of odd, elfish-looking 
 gables, but there is a fa.scination even about them — they 
 have such a hide and-seek air, and suggest, to a suscep- 
 tible " old bach," .so many sweet little hide-a-ways 
 within. Then,too,screeningthese and tucked up all around. 
 
i 
 
 72 
 
 ItEVERIKS OF AN OLD SMOKEIl. 
 
 ) rl 
 
 ■'r 
 
 or falling like a Lridal veil over all, is that most becom- 
 ing mantle of ivy and jasmine, disguisinf(, to some ex- 
 tent, all that is artful, and only brushed aside, here and 
 there, to make room for those coquettish-looking windows 
 through which the sunbeams glance, and imagination is 
 fain to picture, the image of some fair creature, in all the 
 witcheryof blueeyes andyellowhair! I have often thought, 
 when I've como upon one of these, say like those one 
 sees at Norwood, or Stratham, oi Twickenham, — I've often 
 thought as I've lingered wistfully, and admiringly, reluc- 
 tant to pass on and away, what a delightful nook that 
 would be to live in, — and what a temptation it must 
 be, (to one who is in a way to be tempted), to make one's 
 exit from the dusty highways of the world, and leave to 
 the frenzied, panting herd, the continuance of the race for 
 honors, and the scramble after " flesh-pots." In that 
 moment's pause, how charmingly, how forcibly does it ap- 
 peal to one's good sense, through the voice of one's good 
 angel, to renounce the greedy art of business and all the 
 din and clatter of its dirty machinery, for the peace and 
 joyful solace of this biding place, to dwell ensconced 
 amongst the rhododendrons — there to sojourn through 
 the fickle respite of one's days, with nought to beguile 
 or vex, and all to inspire that noV)ler and fuller enjoy- 
 ment which comes from the cultivation and exercise of 
 one's better nature. The partition, just there and then, be- 
 twixt heaven and earth, seems much thinner than in 
 most places — just near enough the other Paradise that, 
 barring the chance of plumping right into it, it offers life 
 
NORWOOD TO BECKENHAM. 
 
 73 
 
 the sunny side, and we may enjoy it just as we are. So 
 tlnn, indeed, we m&y feel through, aiid with all the lusty 
 appetites of our beggarly a<loration in full riot, enjoy 
 rhis rare and delicious proximity to perfect bliss, loitk the 
 tJcsh all on. I would not be unreasonably poetical in my 
 praise of anything; indeed T have lived long enough to 
 see the propriety of curbing my enthusiasm, and do try 
 hard to be rational. Suffice it then to say, of these good 
 old English dwelling-places, at least, as they impressed 
 me, — they may not b a Paradise, — no, not in an evangeli- 
 cal point of view, — but so far as respectability is concerned, 
 and social enjoyment, and all the countless auxiliaries to 
 ])leasure and refinement, they are so near the perfection 
 of Elysium, that I believe the discrepancy is only in us, in 
 our transient possession and want of appreciation, to make 
 our felicity complete. It cannot be denied, that the 
 clumps of precious fruit which poor Faith hungers for in 
 vain, and saints extol in pious rapture ,'s being sweet 
 and satisfying beyond all human conception, may be, and 
 doubtless are, too exalted for mortal reach ; but here, for- 
 sooth, I am bound to say you may enjoy the comfor- 
 table assurance that notwithstanding you are so far be- 
 neath, you are just under the limb, — aye, and when any 
 of those luscious plums do drop to earth, they fall here 
 and prolific Nature multiplies in all around, delightful 
 tokens that all the scattered sheaves, from that golden 
 harvest of the other realm, are wafted here — borne on soft 
 winds perfumed with the breath of violets and vocal 
 with the sons: of bi' ds ! 
 
 1 
 
 II 
 
 'I 
 i 
 
 
 -=^t- 
 
 
 IJT 
 
74 
 
 REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 %. 
 
 ! 
 
 
 II. 
 
 It was past eleven o'clock when I j^^ot across the valley, 
 and b(;gan the easy ascent of the opposite slope ; was 
 taking it slowly, moving on up the incline and glancing 
 back enjoying the splendid retrospect over in the direction 
 I had come. While proceeding in this manner, I came 
 unexpectedly upon what turned out to be a very interest- 
 ing old church. It was just in the outskirts of a little 
 place called Beckingham, and the first intimation I had 
 of being so near, was a glorious flood of music which came 
 down upon your humble wayfarer, and greeted his musing 
 Senses with a perfect torrent of sacred melody. Look- 
 ing quickly round in the direction whence it came, I 
 found myself in close proximity to a quaint-looking struc- 
 ture which, at a glance, bore unmistakable evidence of its 
 great age and sacred character. One, here and there, in the 
 course of long and patient rambles in this country, does 
 hap})en on the^o old land marks ; and I felt, in this instance, 
 a good deal of that satisfaction which animates the an- 
 tiquarian, when he unearths some mouldering ruin, or 
 brings to light objects, the design and handywork of an 
 age and people long gone. Feeling rather fagged with 
 my long walk, I sat down on a stile close by, amid the 
 grateful strains of a rich-toned organ, and the blending of 
 many sweet voices. Pi-esently, I found myself a good deal 
 interested in a survey, not only of the church itself, which 
 was odd and monkish looking, but also of the church-yard 
 surrounding it ; where were gathered, in grim, time-broken 
 
NORWOOD TO BECKENHAM. 
 
 75 
 
 array, a solemn medley of antiquated grave-stones, jagged 
 monuments, and ghastly recumbent effigies. The edifice 
 was, or had been, to all appearances, one of the few old-time 
 monastic strongholds which still maintain their ground in 
 this ancient colony of Caisar. They arc rare as the relics 
 of Roman occupation, and uni^jue as the dialect of an ex- 
 tinct race; possibly, too, not unlike the language of an 
 ohsolete period, may be given a usage and significance 
 that in their own palmy day had seemed grotesque and 
 absurd. This one, built originally of the most substantial 
 materials, it was not at all improbable to suppose, had suf- 
 fered the chills and frosts of four or five hundred wintei's, 
 and borne, battered but unshaken, the sacrilegious fury- 
 of centuries of bigotry, rebellion and reform. There was, 
 moreover, something in the aspect of those grey old walls, 
 and their avssociation with the past, to inspire emotion, 
 and they impressed me as deserving more than a passing 
 glance. I confess, as a rule, the feeling with which 1 regard 
 these patriarchal institutions, replete, as many of them 
 are, with sorrowful associations, is not that of enjoyment. 
 There is a species of pleasure, no doubt, in the gratification 
 of one's natural inquisitiveness ; but the sensation, in the 
 majority of these cases, is rather too much like that one feels 
 groping about the dingy nooks and cloisters of al>beys and 
 crypts; that is to say, an uncomfortable admixture of admir- 
 ation and curiosity, together with a very considerable in- 
 giedient of dread. They may have, as in the case of West- 
 minster, and St. Paul's, the benefit of every device of skill 
 nnd art, to make them attractive, but even then, it is only 
 
 
 a: 
 
 j-;*" 
 
 
 f 1,! 
 

 76 
 
 REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 such an attempt to embellish catastrophe,asglorifies without 
 mitigating bereavement ; the effect, only one remove less 
 terrifying than the horrors of the catacombs, and hardl^^ 
 less repulsive than those fantastic trophies, constructed from 
 the bones of dismembered skeletons, and exhibited in the 
 vaults of the Capuchin Friars at Naples. 
 
 Nevertheless, while there is no pleasure, in the ordinary 
 acceptation of the word, there is an interest, solemn and 
 intense, that takes possession of one's thoughts in the con- 
 templation of things, which, like this old church, have 
 endured so long; for notwithstanding the power of skill 
 to heal, and the magic efficacy of human affection to foster, 
 we read, in tearful eyes on every hand, the sad but inex- 
 orable fate of poor human flesh ; speedily and surely it is 
 passing away. This omnipotent law is not applied to 
 persons alone, for rarely does the wanderer, in these lands, 
 find a structure that has long w^ithstood that mighty wave 
 of Time, which, lapping up and overwhelming poor mor- 
 tality, sweeps onward to inevitable destruction all that 
 glittering, heterogeneous mass of things pertaining to the 
 race. It is sad but true that posterity, at this late day, 
 following in the wake of that once gorgeous crest, finds 
 of whatever really belonged to the days of yore, only air 
 and dirt and desolation. It is, indeed, marvellous how 
 few traces remain — here and there, a bit of sturdy granite 
 that ivill not yield — and these, especially where they re- 
 tain the symmetry or character of the original design, are 
 interesting beyond the gratification of a mere idle fancy. 
 They are the few glimpses of land one gets on the im- 
 
Norwood to beckenham. 
 
 77 
 
 inense sea of events into which are merged and swallowed 
 up all those peoples and things of which we read. They 
 are fast crumbling away,and rapidly being lost in the turbu- 
 lent rush of " mighty waters "; and soon, indeed, from this 
 modern ark, that vulture Curiosity will find, of all those 
 remains of which I speak, no branch, nor sprig, nor place to 
 rest its tired wing-^no substance to [)acify its hungry 
 greed, in all its flight backward over that great silent 
 ocean of Time ! _ 
 
 III. ^ - 
 
 The power to destroy, is as mighty and we trust as be- 
 nign as that which creates ; was it kindness, then, in Pro- 
 vidence, that had sheltered this aged shrine and faithful 
 servant, for there, in the midst of that resistless tide, this 
 veteran has stood firm and endured a veritable " hold fast 
 for faith" — a " shining light," casting far and near, amongst 
 the breakers, the genial rays of its goodly precept. And 
 as I looked upon those wretched deposits of mortal dust 
 around, it seemed they too were blessed ; for while so many 
 had been swept onward to some nameless shore, or sank 
 into the bottomless deep, they had caught the gleam of 
 this precious light and clutched at the Cross. They had 
 wrestled with the angry wave, but not alone ; the potent 
 magnetism of an unseen Power had been there and suc- 
 cored them, and drawn them, as by some loving hand, 
 within the counter current that eddies round this sacred 
 rock ; and there thay lie now, stranded on the threshold of 
 a "Christian home,"— reposing in the lap of "Mother 
 
78 
 
 REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 pi'. 
 
 I 
 
 
 Omrcb." It seems as if this reflectio; inakes the goodly 
 dame look less forbidding and ugly; and, too, there is, 
 alK)ut that clinging, sun-lit ivy which has crept as a 
 mantle over her weather beaten walls, and filled and 
 }>eautified the seams and wrinkles of her stony lineaments, 
 something imparting a pleasant, genial air of fostering 
 love, as closely slie gathers under her mateinal wing that 
 silent brood of departed spirits, and reflects the sunshine 
 of her precious hope down upon the cold, clayey tene- 
 ments of her voiceless flock ! 
 
 Peering in at the vestibide, my eye had been fixed, for 
 some time, on the recumbent effigy of some doughty old 
 knight who was placed ♦here; clad in complete armour, 
 this fierce old crusader, for such he seemed, and may have 
 been, looked formidable in the extreme, and impressed 
 me with the idea he could not have fallen in open en- 
 counter with flesh and blood ; but seemed, long ago, to 
 have tired of the conflict, and lain down on this eartliy 
 couch to rest, and in the grateful respite of somi- pleasant 
 dream, perchance of home and those he loved, death had 
 crept in softly ! How came this martial *?nage here at all, 
 I asked myself ; what were his claims to fame, and wherein 
 lay the charm that had preserved the outward form and 
 semblance of this man to this late age, winning their meed 
 of voluntary regard and homage from so many gener- 
 ations. In all the cloistered wealth of our mother land, 
 we find, here and there, the rare virtue of a few uncollected 
 unexhibited relics ; they are not the least precious of her 
 obsolete treasure, and amongst them are those simple un- 
 
NORWOOD TO BECKENH4M. 
 
 79 
 
 artistic specimens of €a by gone age, in tlie shape of effigies. 
 This was one, and no doubt a worthy comrade of the othera, 
 if not a cliieftain. It does not speak, it does not feel ; in- 
 deed, one of the inviolable conditions of this warlike proxy 
 was it should be senseless an<l must be silent. The shadow 
 f)f its desolate mission is stampe<l on all its lineaments ; it 
 may not even echo the soldier cry of "all's well," and yet 
 there is about this broken and begrimed image an appeal 
 to our intelligence and humanity all the more expressive 
 that it is mute, and none the less pathetic that it is not 
 the most perfect work of art. There are many languages 
 for the living, and they are badly comprehended ; but oidy 
 one for the d«*ad, and that universally understood ; one is 
 liy voice, the other by sign. Irrespective, then, of tongue, or 
 dialect, or nationality, we read in this crumbling symbol, of 
 wars and conflicts long since hushed forever, and of feuds 
 and hostile passions, long since blended in a realm of per- 
 fect harmony. It Ijespeaks, too, a being like ourselves, an<l 
 of a kindly feeling that loved the flesh it counterfeits ; for, 
 after all, it was affection, tender and devoted, that in rear- 
 in,: this monument from dust, had sought to perpetuate one 
 who was lost to all but memory, by giving to the sense- 
 less clay, to which he had gone, the expression and noble 
 outline of a once loved and gallant form. The music 
 ceased and I lose to go — that glorious hynui of praise 
 which lauds the benignant love and mercy of the Most 
 High, had gone forth on its mission of intercession for 
 troubles, hopes, and fears — and the last expiring echoes of 
 the Te Deum, grew softer and fainter as they mounted 
 
 It 
 
80 
 
 REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER 
 
 heavenward, bearing with them the cast off burdens of 
 heavy hiden hearts, and leaving with the prayerful ones 
 the happy omen of a blithe and sunny morn. 
 
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 ALMSON's CAHTIOATION ok T»I, ) CALI.r.n < M.VBITY HYHTKil or PIUL- 
 AI>ELl'lltA \ HKMARKAHI.K OOirRTHUOM tiCENt^:. 
 
 Philadelpiua, May 27, IH81. 
 'HiBre hiM Wfii liefore the (^Miarter B*'s«lonH f'oiirt of thin citv for several iluyH a 
 t.^r of |)eciiUar interest, not ottly fntiik a hiiiimniturian {xiint of view but, l)«cauMfl 
 •if the <>har) table tlo^maR which it hri<< (h'Htroyed. It«Hii(hlen ending thin afteruoim 
 furiiiHhe<l a fitt'".>,'ly dramatji climax to tme of the Hadtiext pictureH of our Ho-called 
 .ivili/.Jition that ever wm put in wnnh. The fact"* were, that on a cold, hiiowv 
 morning during latit wint<M- a dead child wn** foiiiKf in an area in the rear of a tall 
 tfr»urnent houHe, the iip[ >fr floors of whii;h were let out to ni^ditly KmL'^th. l*olice 
 inv^eHtiKi*tion piomptly fvealed the fact that a young woman wh«> had en^'ai^'eil the 
 n'!»r rmmi '»n the previous evening' had Kiv«n hirth to the chihl, and nhe a<liidtte«t 
 iinvinjf thi .vn it out <»f the window, declarin ' that it wan \n*ni defwl. Thejfirl w;m 
 .Ira^'n'ed fri»iii her be<l, f<»rced by the indice i.ti erto walk down three fli>;htM of ntaii-x 
 find to the nearent Htation-hoiise, where mIic wan at once locked up, Hrought Inffore 
 till- i<immittinj< ruaifiHtrate a few dayn later, she was promptly •sent to \foyaiiiens- 
 ini; Prison, <hargf(l with infanticide, ,iiul ct-rt unly woulil hav' been convi('t« 1 had 
 nut t 'Vo yountf lawyers, who were convinced In r iiinf>cence ((jfeor;4e Haldom and 
 Lincoln 1^. Eyre), come to her assistance. Tl Htory of her life is as comm<»nidac<* 
 as could be inuvsjdned : The i>risoner ha<l bet-n living with a «ong and dance i)cr 
 firmer, in New York, named Edward -r "Ned" Aar nson, who, wdun she wiis 
 afmutto becouje aniotlici', Ijrotijjht her t«) Philadelphia, and heaf ♦^lenslv abandonetl 
 lur. FrieuiUess and wholly unknown, realizing the terrible ))osr ion in which she 
 w IS place'l, she wandered for days about the streets, until, ' ,',y forced by th» 
 rnvcnous and unnatural liun^'er induced by approachiu„' ma^'tnity, she acco-ited a 
 voiui^,' j,'irl on the sidewalk, who gave her a few cents and If i^'cil her for the night. 
 On the following day, again ca.«^t out upon tht- tender mercies uf the world, she en- 
 cmintereda woman of the town lis the Commonwealth fully succf <'ded in showing^ 
 but that her heart was warm the evidence no less clearly prov (mI. In her company 
 hizzie Aaronsoii, as she was called in the indictment, for days »«)ught asylum in some 
 hospit d where the dreaded ordeal of oonfinement nught be passed. The testimony 
 if Ida Wilson, the girl who thus labored on behalf of another woman in distress 
 without ho] of reward, can be briefly summarized as follows :—'* I heanl of this 
 friendless girl and asked her to my quartern. They wer** jjoor enough H)nly one 
 riKmi but such as I had I tried to give lier. Thu stranger [)ass.'d most of her time 
 hi tears, and seemed utterly hopeless. Kealizin.™ the irajKirtanoe of medical aid for 
 her in the h(»ur of confinement, and being too i»oor myself to procure it for her, I 
 Ktartcd with her on the second day to find such a place. Lizzie Aaronson, the 
 prisoner in the dock, was utt*'rly penniless —had been left without a cent." Then 
 follows the st*»ry of charity's cold shoulder to actual and evident distress. 
 
 THE RULES THAT FOUUID. 
 
 " First we applied at the Nurses' Home or Lying-in-Charity, as it is called, 
 at Cherry and Eleventh streets. The matron heard the c:ise and admitted that it 
 was a desperate one. She then asked if Lizzie could produce her marriage certifi- 
 cate, and pay !^5 per week for her board, but when she learned that Lizzie could 
 do neither the one nor the other the scene ended abruptly. Thence we went to the 
 Honueopathic Hospital, but there was no room for Lizzie's admission. The young 
 physician in charge said she must go the Almshouse. To the Guardians of the 
 Poor, then, we went — to the office in Seventh street. A clerk told us I must take 
 my companion before Magistrate Pole and a.sk her commitment. We went to the 
 magistrate's, but he refused to commit her unless she would give the name of her 
 busband and swear out a warrant for his arrest, so that he could be compelletl to 
 pay the county for her keeping. This, after some hesitation— desperate as was her 
 Kituation— she refused to do. 1 advised her to do so. We next applieil at the Home 
 Mission, No. .533 Arch Street, in hopes of getting Lizzie a ticket to New York, but 
 the officer in charge would not give her one, althougli she pleaded piteously for 
 it. He finally offered to sell her one for $1. Neither she nor I had so much money. 
 We then went to the Young W^ snen's Christian Association, on Seventh Street. 
 The matron said, firmly and promptly, that she could not do anything for her, as 
 *«»n as she saw her conditi< >n, asked for her certificate, and made Lizzie cry Intterly. 
 
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 Finally she said we had In-tter j?o to th»* Sixth Ward Relief A«8o<natinn, a brandi 
 of the Young Wonten'K (.-hriHtiun AHwtciation. There we had ulinoHt Himilar «;\- 
 i)erience. Finally we went to an intelligence office, No. 4ll Arch Street, in tlie 
 no\Hi that hhe might find 8ome kind pernon who would take her as a servant, tuiiltr 
 the circiiuiHtanceH. She there met an elderly gentleman, who engiiKed her, hut, 
 Heeinff her condition, declined to take her home, although she begged him t«>Hnd dc- 
 <lareu that Hhe woulil work for nothing long enough after her trouble to covit :ill 
 the expenseH. He Htill firudy declined, but exi)resKed hiH 8ymi)athy by giving her *!. 
 liixzie .ind T immediately Hi>ent this money in food. I had not eaten anythin;,' Ih.ii 
 day, and she not Hince the morning of the i>reviouH day. When it waH t»Mt latr «»• 
 recollecte<l that it woidd have procured the coveted ticket to New York. 'J'licn 
 we lw)th felt worry. But we hjul been ko hungry. At laHt she returned with uie to 
 my room. On several momingH thereafter, seeing that she was a burden to me. :w 
 she said, she left. I afterwards learned that as a last resort she pledged her siniill 
 gold ring - the only article of jewelry she had left for twenty-five cents, and t<Mtk 
 the room in which her child was born." This was the last witness for the defence. 
 
 A DRAMATIC CLIMAX. 
 
 District- Attorney CJrnharn stepped forward and addressed the jiiry. Tie spoke 
 of the enormity of the offence, the difficulty of proof, and the <loubts cast upon tlie 
 girl's crime Ijy the testimony of the defence. Therefore he thought it wise, au.l 
 with the atlvice of the Judge, to abandon the case. 
 
 There was a hum of surprise in the court. Judge Allison then directed the two 
 girls who had been called as witnes-ses, Ida Wilson and Ijizzie Flick, to come to the 
 bar. He gave them seats (m a raised phitform in front of the jury, and in fidl view 
 <if the crowded court-room. Having first referred to the remarks made by the Dis- 
 trict Attorney, and commended the wisdom of his course, with deej) and evident 
 emoti<m, he thus addressed the jury : — 
 
 " Gentlemen, I have called these two girls to the bar of this court that you may 
 see them, while I say a few words uiH)n another j)ha.se of this case. This defendant, 
 Lizzie Aaronson was shown by the testimony of the defence to have come to this 
 city an utter stranger, to have been a homeless wanderer on the streets, without 
 money, without friends. In her utter loneliness and friendliness, driven Ut neek 
 charity from the passer-by, she accosted this girl here (iM)inting to Lizzie Flick), 
 and, without hebitation, she shared her jioverty with her, giving iier a share of the 
 money and comforts she possessed. This other young woman (i)ointing to Ida Wil- 
 son, who, unfortunately, has not led a correct life), however much her moral nature 
 may have been war^)ed in one respect, gave an exhibition ef practical (yhristianity - 
 of practical Christianity, I repeat, with emphasis— when she likewise gave this 
 friendless sister shelter, that would furnish a wholesome examjde to most of those 
 who are clothed with purple and fine linen, I r.m sorry to admit that if this poor, 
 friendless girl had api)liect to nine out of ten of those very people who comiwse the 
 wealthy classes she would probably have sought in vain the shelter she recei\ cil 
 from this «lespised outcast. I, therefore, regard this as the time and the place to 
 make mention from the bench of the kindness of heart displayed by these two girls, 
 and have for that reason dwelt uiK)n their acts, because of the striking contrast 
 which they afford to the conduct or the so-called charities of this city. It has been 
 clearly shown that this defendant, in the midst of her wants, and when the critical 
 hour of her motherhood was near, went from one of those socalled charities to the 
 other, and at each of them sought admission, with the evident purpose of givinj; 
 her child respectable birth. In this laudable desire she was thwarted at every tiirn, 
 in consequence of the various regulations governing the so called benevolent institu- 
 tions, wnder none of which, unfortunately, was she a fit candidate for admission. 
 At last, alone, in utter squalor, nearly naked, without fire or the most ordinary com 
 forts, amid the darkness of a bitter winter's night, inexperienced and unassistetl. 
 she gave birth to her child, whether alive or dead the Almighty and she only will 
 ever know." After an interval, in which the bill of indictment was passed to the 
 foreman of the jury, Judge Allison concluded: — '* I direct that you do acquit the 
 prisoner." 
 
 Taken altogether, the scene was one of the most unusual that ever occurred in 
 any court-room in this country. The house was crowded, and, strange to say, 
 nearly everybody 8tot>d up, hat in hand, as if the benediction of the humane jud^ie 
 was asked for all. The sermon was such a one as will furnish texts for Sunday 
 next.— New York Hcrahl. 
 
OUR CHAKITIKS. 
 
 Hi 
 
 I. 
 
 IN comiiion witli the rest of poor, ignorant mortality, I 
 noticed certain directions on the guide-hoards as I 
 toddled along, and taking it torgrante<l they pointed the 
 right way, followed in the direction they indicated. 1 
 saw, it is true, by-paths leading off in other directions, 
 hut I stuck to the main highway where I saw everyone 
 else going, and wluch was broad and pleasant. I took this 
 road not simply because of its superior attractiveness, al- 
 tliough I was, I adnut, strongly intluenced by that; 
 nevertheless, 1 was conscientious, or tried to be so, but 
 then I had no decided notions of my own concerning 
 certain great cpiostions of the day, and into which, when 
 I ])lunged, I would be caught u[) by eddies and twisted 
 and twirled round and round: so I left everything to 
 the guide-boards, as I have said, and plodde<l on. i3esides, 
 another reason I hail for taking the capacious and bril- 
 liantly lighted boulevanl — all so extensive, and so beauti- 
 fully embellished — was because the narrow paths seemed 
 fre«[uented by a very shabby set, and only a few of them 
 at that; and they looked wild, and hagganl, and hungry, 
 and the way looked lonely and quite abandoned, except 
 by these miserable creatures. 
 
 i It " 
 
 m 
 
 1! 
 
84 
 
 REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 I 
 
 m 
 
 in 
 
 I 
 
 Just here, I noticed a very conspicuous guide-board, 
 being, as it were, a combination of several, with certain 
 signs and symbols and hieroglyphics inscribed thereon, 
 amongst which I could make out a liand pointing in the 
 direction of the narrow gauge. It struck me it might prove 
 a good ^vft of time to explore that path, and notwith- 
 standing the uncouth appearance of its habitu<3s, I should, 
 I thought, meet with a less powerful competition thuJi 
 where I was; where every thinjr, while being very fine, 
 and well regulated, seemed under the control of a sys- 
 tematic sort of monopoly, closely resembling, as it seemed 
 to me, the despotism from which I was migrating. It was 
 just at this point I lost so much time hesitating — in fact, 
 I pau ed some time without making any perceptible 
 progress either way, and lounged vacantly about, though 
 I could not help, in the meantime, taking some ob- 
 servations. 
 
 Beside this last mentioned post, I always saw a man 
 who SEemed stationed there to interpret the strange 
 writing on the board, and to explain the various ways. 
 This man would be relieved after a while by another, and 
 he in turn by still a different one, and so on. Each of 
 these, as he came along in turn, seemed to mo to be a 
 species of emigrant 'or road agent and official mouth- 
 piece, being apparently well informed about the topogra- 
 phy of the promised land. I did not speak to them per- 
 sonally, because I saw% unless there were several together, 
 they took no notice of them whatever, and as application 
 required to be made in lots, being alone, I had to stand 
 
 ' ; iM 
 
OUR CHARITIES. 
 
 85 
 
 aside, which I did — near enough, however, to hear and see 
 wliat was going forward. As I was looking on watch- 
 ing this agent, it seemed to nie he directed tlie shahby 
 and poor-looking ones that came along, down the narrow, 
 dirty way; but the grand turnouts and aristocKitic people 
 either paased straight on, without noticing h^' ' or, as 
 seemed the more polite and customary thing to do, stop- 
 ped out of mock deference to this functionary — and then 
 it really appeared to me, the agent gave them a peculiar 
 look — T will not say a wink, though it was very like it — 
 and at the same time veered his thumb round in the 
 direction of the grand avenue ; whither went all the bril- 
 liant part of the throng, including all those who seemed 
 to have any pretensions to greatness. Vigilant, however, 
 as I had become by this time, a bright idea struck me — 
 thought I to ?nyself, I v.^ill watch closely to see where 
 the ngents themselves go ; and in nearly aviiry instance, as 
 fast as they were relieved, and after sending a good batch 
 down the cramped, mean little by-way, each sidled oft' 
 quietly and gracefully with the grandees; and one, with 
 an especially resigned and pensive look, took t!ie box-seat 
 find reins of a four-in-hand. 
 
 When T saw this done so many times, I hesitated no 
 longer, but followed with reassured eagerness "the course 
 of empire " — on the through-ticket system — first class, as 
 the agent ndvised. I may mention that on this route 
 there are no return tickets ; so we are not annoyed by the 
 faint-hearted coming back.and telling us grievous stories 
 
 m&i 
 
86 
 
 RKVERIKS OF AN OLD SMOKKU. 
 
 of misrepresentation and lianlsliip, and ^Ivin/^ disparafj- 
 ing accounts of the prospects aliead. 
 
 We see ))y tlu' wayside, as we pass alon;,', certain wild, 
 l>eggarly-looking creatures, who slumt out to us as we 
 pass, and gesticulate fanatically, and cry " Stop, stop, — 
 go back, go hack !" an<l all that sort nf thing; hut our 
 mouth-piece tells us not to mind them, that they are pooi, 
 daft creatui'cs wlio have been led astiav. 'J'hey, we per- 
 ceive, liowever, are going in a contrary direction. One of 
 these ])oor things caught Ijold of my hand, and I shall 
 never forget his look, as I drew it hastily away, liaving 
 caught tlie eye of one of the agents })ent leprovingly upon 
 me. Our guirles are c<mstantly telling us not to mind tliese 
 people, and to keep a sharp lookout on our pockets. I 
 ma}' mention, too, that on each side of us wc; see, as we go 
 along, a smooth liigli wall on which art; painted the most 
 beautiful frescoes, depicting the glories and advantages of 
 the country to wliich we are bound ; and all signs of suf- 
 fering, or want, or pain are kept out of our siglit so as not 
 to interfere with the pleasure of our journey. Every now 
 and then, however, from behind the most enticing of these 
 scenes issue shrieks and groans, like of human agony ; 
 these reach us frequently in the midst of our comfort 
 and hilarity, and on venturing to inquire as regards this 
 slight interruption to the general ovation, we are hushed 
 up somewhat l^astily by the agent, who tells us that that 
 sort of thing is the finest feature in the whole aspect, as 
 indicating exceptionally high moral culture ; he also ex- 
 plains that the people who utter these outcries are a 
 
OUll rHAUlTIKS. 
 
 87 
 
 miserable class of tramps and mjih'faetoi*s, wlio are sup- 
 posed to l>o ])os8osse(l of the devil, an<l who have Ymcn 
 taken under the fostering care of the puhlic benevolent 
 institutions, on the easv conditions that they allow certain 
 kindhearted and philanthropic ministers and attendants 
 to gently drive the Evil One out of them ; these modern 
 expurgatories being under the lull control and auspices of 
 a certain benign spirit called " Charity." 
 
 II. 
 
 There are many persons and things that have been so 
 long tacitly acknowledged as pure and unimpeachable, 
 that any one who ma}^ have tiie temerity to say ought of 
 them, except in praise, may expect to be sent peremptorily 
 " to Coventry " ; and for the matter of that, he has reason 
 to feel particularly fortunate if not more harshly dealt 
 with. 
 
 Although the day for bianding liberty of speech with a 
 hot iron, may be passed, nevertheless, in this lilteral epoch, 
 an instrument just as formidable exists in the more civil- 
 ized but no less reprehensible means of two powerful 
 influences : Bribery, and Patronage. Whatever we 
 M'ant said, or written, or done, is brought about by 
 " subsidy ;" and when the performance is a purely per- 
 sonal eftbrt of our own, to meet with approval and suc- 
 cess, it must be such as to propitiate, not so much public 
 opinion, generally, as sectional spite or party interest; 
 and in the effort to win popularity, amongst these con- 
 flicting elements, we must and do cater to partisan pa- 
 
hB 
 
 REVERIES OF AN OLD SMoKER. 
 
 tronage ; and at the same time, we mufit and do forfeit 
 our claims to the broader, nobler title of " Catholic," 
 or " Independent," or " Liberal." Exanjples of the truth 
 of the al>ovc, are too numerous to mention, and the fact 
 itself too hackneyed perhaps to call for illustration ; be- 
 sides, the bringing up of " distinguishe<r' cases, might seem 
 an aspersion. How far the restraint 1 speak of may be 
 wholesome, is another ({uestion ; but it is impossible to find 
 an individual or gnidt; of society that is exempt. The 
 lower orders of people would be njore independent, as 
 having smaller interests in jeopardy, but they are even 
 more open to temptation, as they have so much that is 
 needful to gain by patronage ; and all untutored as they 
 are, regarding the higher art of dissimulation, they allow 
 their reason and common sense to subserve the logic, and 
 not unfre(juently, the venality of the learned, and those in 
 position and authority over them. Thus are they con- 
 strained to practise an involuntary servility, as despicable 
 as their mean opinion of themselves is unjust, and as 
 uncalled for, as their reverence and envy of those above 
 them are erroneous and misapplied. 
 
 This may l)e well — it is certainly conducive to harmony 
 and peace, which is preferable to revolution ; but to the 
 fact of occasional resistance, are we indebted for two pro- 
 digious elements in our progress : Invention and Re- 
 form. Conformity, in all things, offei-s the most tempt- 
 ing comforts, and that page of history which records the 
 triumphs and reverses of the dissenting ones, records also 
 a terrible prelude of persecution, riot and bloodshed. 
 
OUR CHARITIES. 
 
 89 
 
 One of the most honouraMe distinctions alH)nt these men, 
 however, wliether we agree witli t)ieir " crotchets/' or not, 
 is that in their disagreement thvy expressed their opinions, 
 all shackled as they were, in fearless, thankless opjMwition 
 to established authorities, and not only independently, 
 hut in direct repudiation of briVxiry and patronage. 
 
 In contrast with thos*^ heroos whose patriotic op|X)si- 
 tion to high-toned autocratic ordinanc»'s has won them 
 well-merited renown, take those marshalled under the 
 same Imnner, but in an humble way, who only come in 
 conflict with what is termed " well-bred manners," and 
 trivial set notions — they, too, sufler petty martyrdom, 
 and are made to smart for their impulsive sincerity. 
 There may have been no rude or unkind act conuiiitted, 
 hut whatever be the reason, their not conforming to the 
 teaching and etiquette of the times, is sufficient to make 
 them amenable to that dreadful penalty of social ostra- 
 cism, which, although it may not include all the terroi-s of 
 a frozen Siberia, may nevertheless visit a calamity on the 
 victim hardly less intolerable, and all the more pitiless, in 
 the boundless measure of misery and deprivation entailed 
 ill tliat blighting, scathing, excoriating sentence, loss of 
 I'ATRONAGE. Our every-day business life affords numer- 
 ous examples of this, and some of the meaner sort, though 
 ludicrous in many respects, aflbrd an all the more refresh- 
 ing contrast to their graver prototypes. 
 
 Let a generously inebriated Hibernian enter a public 
 
 waiting room or diligence, where, we will suppose, are a 
 
 tnumber of well-regulated females, — then, with only a hazy. 
 
90 
 
 REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 nu'llow fonsciousiiesH of liis fair .siirronn<linf(H, lie hegins to 
 solilo(juiz<' on a variety of «lul»ious subjrcts, at tlie saiiu' 
 time incautiously callin;,' tliinj^s liy th«'ir riglit names. 
 Stiai^'litway, you will olwervc the sensitive eicatur«'> 
 around l»egin to assunie tlit* qui vive. There is a general 
 collapse of all animation, and they set themselves to per- 
 forming what only woman's witchery is eapal)le of, — that is, 
 theygooH' into that well-a.ssuined apathy which mayeasily 
 l>e mistiiken for a trance ; and, with all their suhtlo in- 
 stincts alive and active, they, in less time than 1 can write 
 it, re.solve themselves into a .sort of well-bred .spiritual alibi. 
 The minds of .some tind escape out of the window, and are 
 seen gazing fixedly in vacancy ; .some are lost inpensive reve- 
 rie; .some are c<mjuring up a new style of hairpin; whilst 
 others precipitat<;ly recall .some long-forgotten scene in 
 which they ar<^ suddenly conscious of a deep and tendei 
 interest. In .short, thev all tret as fur hack into the cor- 
 nerof elsewhere, as possible; and with silent, startling un- 
 animity, these fair dreamers assume! an air quite as nb 
 sent as if they were .some marvellous coincidence of so 
 many somnambulists, having met there by chance, an 1 
 w^aiting for anxious relatives to come and wake tliem up. 
 But how fares it w^ith the cause of all this mysterious 
 pantomime f Very soon our intoxicated friend will be- 
 i;in to feel a sti'antre sensation as of frost in the air — a 
 sort of sepulcliral dampness mingling in the atmosphere, 
 and thrilling to the marrow of his bones. It is nothing 
 but the manner of his reception, and for having, technically 
 speaking, overstepped, or rather staggered over those 
 
OUR CHARITIES. 
 
 91 
 
 (lanpTous limits that Ijonlcr on propriety. I^ut it soIk'I-s 
 liiiii faster than i)n)hahly anything else va\i\*\ ; iiwhnMl, he 
 is so iin[Mvsso«l with u sense of sonietliin;jf amiss, that lie 
 looks alxjut him, for the first time, with a puzzled, half- 
 fearful expression, such as u man, of domestie hahits and 
 lii«^h moral sensihilities, would take on who had dined late 
 and rather heartily, and waked up, after a short period of 
 ahsent-mindedness, to Hnd himsrif in what he imagined 
 the lK)udoir of an Kj^'yptian harem. There is the tit^glintif 
 of the inevitable how-string about his neck, and then 
 thinking to avoid the fatal twitch, he eollects all his 
 drowsy energi«js in the effort, and makes off at a tangent. 
 
 If a man, whose instincts are so blunted with drink, 
 that he can biave anything, is afl'ecte<l thus by the cold 
 freezing attitu<le of set manners, an<l establishe«l notions, 
 what must he the punishment in the case of a sober man 
 who shall venture on, not a slight infringement of good 
 taste, but indiscreetly, rashly, blurt out something directly 
 and ])ainfully out of tune with our preconceived ideas and 
 hallowed conceits concerning ourgood men, ourimmaculate 
 preceptors, and especially " our charities." Of course, the 
 little circle about him that find it out, l)egin to feel thore 
 is no doubt a monster amongst them, whose ideas are out- 
 rageously at variance with those generally inculcated, and 
 they edge off — not sto])ping to think whether hit is a ghoul 
 simply, or, what may be erpially obnoxious, some one who 
 assumes to be less stupid than they. 
 
98 
 
 RKVERIES or AV OLD SMOKKR. 
 
 III. 
 
 t« 
 
 Matters teiulin^ to controvf»i*sy which, linppily for peace 
 and harmony M sake, liave U'cn pasMccl upon and settled 
 years, it may he centuries a<;o, wc* do not like to take the 
 trouhle or risk to disturh ; and thus we are pre-disposed 
 U) favour tlie reiteration of time-worn nr^niments and 
 panej^yrics, all, of course, on the side we liappen to l»e. This 
 is especially the case if the rfiestion lucks interest or he of 
 no commercial importance, and not hearin*,' on. or in any 
 way interfering with business atfaiis; or if it has, then most 
 likely our a<H]uie3cence is necessary to invite or to retain 
 that patronage whence we derive our support or prosper- 
 ity. At any rate, thoy are about as near the proper thing, 
 we think, as we care to fashion them, or as we are our- 
 selves ; so, dreading to be regarded as " scepticiil," we 
 yield an indifferent or zealous assumption of adherence, 
 and are counted as supporters of a cause or belief or in- 
 stitution, the righteousness of which may have been dis- 
 puted through advei*se opinion on many a bloody field. 
 Hence it comes about, that the attitude of the modern 
 maintainer, the " latter-day " <lefender an<l-if-nee<l-be- 
 wari'ior, is about that of a fever and ague patient, with 
 a bad case of " shakes," armed cap-a-pie in the clumsy 
 steel armour of some giant crusader. Besides, there arc 
 many things we mistrust our ability to improve or our 
 eligibility to examine into, and thus a great part of this 
 enlightened and mature world, yields an apparently 
 helpless or politic obedience to a set of musty ordi- 
 
OUR CIIARITIKS. 
 
 OS 
 
 nances and obsolete cnstoms in which it apparently 
 lias not Hurticient interest or lacks confirlence to think 
 rationally about, or to come in collision with. Wo may not 
 be altogether 8atisHe<l with the logic or connnon sense of 
 many views generally accepttMl as riglit ; but we let them 
 pass unchallenged, especially if they are tolerably pleasing 
 orat least not inconveniently obtrusive. They niay, indeed, 
 and most likely do comprise the muniments of our pseudo 
 faith — aye, and constituting the grassy bastions poun<ied 
 periodically by the batteries of adverse opinion, are 
 escala<led from time to time, by the van<lal progeny of 
 that prolific bastard Reform ! In this respect, it may bo 
 noted that reform stands in the same relation to our old 
 time heritage of creeds, dogmas, prejudices, and forms, as 
 a broom to house cleaning ; — with this difference, that, in- 
 stead of sweeping away dirt, it dispels fallacies. These 
 latter, however, it must be confessed, are not always to 
 be condemned ; nay many of them seem a most attractive 
 variety of beautiful ideal growths such as creep spontane- 
 ously over everything in the course of time. — It is not al- 
 \vays the most substantial thing that saves, and not the 
 least persuasive arguments, in favour of old time institu- 
 tions, are these sweet appeals to our conservative instincts. 
 They are the blossoms that adorn the crevices of old walls, 
 and we cherish the ruin for the sake of the flower; but as 
 age inspires wisdom, so antiquity hallows conceit,and some- 
 times we reverence a sentiment for the mere cnimbling 
 masonry that, in its creation, earlier generations were igno- 
 rant of. So it comes about there are vast quantities of relicsj 
 
I 
 
 i: ? 
 
 [Il 
 
 u 
 •I 
 
 ill 
 
 i |i 1 
 
 ''^^ 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 M 
 
 94 
 
 REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 enshrined and regarded with that awe and veneration per- 
 taining to saered things, which had only a very remote 
 reference to what was sacred ; so too we see fragments of 
 the cross ftishioned centuries ago in imitation of the ori- 
 ginal, ^ei to he looked upon in course of time as the gen- 
 uine article, and is elevated and bowgd down to as a pait 
 of th(» Ijoly fal>ric itself Thus in the transmutability of 
 things are many of the religious observances of the present 
 day accounted for. And it comes to pass we reverence ii» 
 the coal measure of a fossil period symbols which, like 
 the grey beards of the Druids, are sanctified only by super- 
 stition, and hallowed only by lapse of time. 
 
 IV. 
 
 As regards these ideal growths of blossom to winch 
 I have referred, they seem to germinate in some 
 mysterious quality, better than that we tind exhibited in 
 the conunoncr phases of our corporeal humanity. Though 
 they may sj>ring up in the conflict of our worst 
 passions, still their design and influence seem to be 
 to tend most strongly to amity ; and while I ty- 
 pify them here as flowers, we recognise them in every 
 beautiful form and fancy, and they not unfrequently find 
 expression in song. Thus the patriot sees in an ideal harp 
 with broken strings, the lacerated chords of that great 
 Irish heart that bled centuries ago; and both here and in 
 the sister Isle, grievances and even atrocities that had their 
 origin and day in a period so far distant as almost to have 
 become sacred, are kept in sympathetic accord with more 
 
OUR CHARITIES. 
 
 95 
 
 modern sentiment, through such dulcet mediums as 
 " Erin go-Bragh," and "Scot's wha hae." In this way 
 are they blended in the " green" of those simple lea^'es, 
 which typify the genius of Celtic liberty, and Hower in 
 the sturdy plant that symbolizes the spirit of ancient 
 (Jaelic chivalry. In such close affinity to theses beautiful 
 growths, that their identity may be merged, are those 
 to which in our more exalted moods we claim personal 
 relationship ; and like the others, cropping out of the time- 
 seam of dreary, thatchless ruin, they get their vitality, 
 their sustenance, their fragrance, in certain rare and 
 endearing virtues that sweeten and embellish our moral 
 heing. They are unseen veins, as it were, of that living 
 water we have seen ere this bubbling up in all the limpid 
 purity of Horeb's fount, amid the rubbish of some 
 abandoned and tumbled-down old homestead, — among 
 these is — charity. In the sense, however, in which cha- 
 rity is made to seem, not only the adorable attribute 
 it really is, but withal subserving and gloiifying " our 
 charities," I claim the public estimate of this virtue 
 to be a fallacy, and all its resplendent lov»'liness a 
 beautiful fraud, that does not even attain to the true 
 dignity and sincerity of a moral illusion, or we might 
 call it that. It may embellish as the blossom, and as 
 such I would foster it ordinarily ; but in this case, n(it- 
 withstanding our splendid assumption to tho contrary, 
 it is not the bona fide flower — it does not shea lU verdure, 
 it does not drop its leaves ; it outdoes itself, it blooms per- 
 ennially, and seems, as it really is, out of all harmony 
 
96 
 
 REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 with nature. The fact is, it is not charity at all, and the 
 thing we extol as such is only a weed blooming in life- 
 less perpetuity, in all the artificial splendor of floral wax ! 
 Now that I think of it, I am almost disposed to humor 
 the delusion regarding " our charities," and shield them 
 from criticism and reform. It is so comforting to foster the 
 presumption, which generally prevails, that the presidirig 
 spirit in " our charities" is charity ; and by thus incorpo- 
 rating with the name and purpose of the good project, an 
 attribute so queen-like and lovable, exalt the little bene- 
 fit that accrues in the exercise of our much lauded phi- 
 lanthropy. I say I would humour the delusion, because it 
 has a tendency to absolve us in the uncomfortable feeling 
 we might otherwise have, that we ought to have done 
 more ; and not only this, but another important consider- 
 ation involved in this issue, is the reward. There is no 
 doubt, in exalting " our charities" we get a proportionately 
 higher estimate of our own deserving. I would not decry 
 appreciation, but I protest that our farthing's worth is 
 made to seem a prodigious investment, and our greedy 
 mite of benevolent stock, the ground of ultimate exemp- 
 tion. Thus comforted, as all small minds are with the 
 thought of what they have done, the cry of distress, in the 
 heart-rending pathos of its <,ieatest need, may never reach 
 us ; it is effectually stifled within those inquisitorial walls 
 we term " our charities," and rarely penetrates beyond 
 those 'granite bastions which, reared in luxury to shutout 
 penii y, are dedicated to charity. According to this view, 
 the hand-writing" on these walls may be interpreted 
 
orR CHAUITIKS. 
 
 !)7 
 
 this wise — that we seek in our prosperity to propitiate 
 felicity by ostracisin;^ misfortune. 
 
 I am aware that one only renders himself obnoxious by 
 interfering in these matters ; besides there is undoubtedly 
 a certain amount of goo I <lone by individuals and com- 
 tnunities, and even societies, in relieving distress, which 
 is highly commendable and proper, and I would not 
 disparage their etibrts. What I take exception to is not 
 the little good that is done, but rather the virtuous agra- 
 rianism, the pioas effrontery by which it is so very gene- 
 rally putted up and appropriated, and also to the atrocious 
 misnomer of calling it by a name so exalte<l as charity. 
 
 V. 
 
 There is a stran«^e commin^'lini; of j^ood aiid ill in 
 
 luiman kind, it is inherent in the race, and we are 
 
 come to regard all good deeds as to some extent palliating 
 
 a stiirma attachinji: to our nature. All share in the 
 
 credit of what is good, and in the exclusion of what is ill 
 
 and thus is the merit of the few appropriated by the many ; 
 
 there is about it, indeed, no exclusive proprietorship, and 
 
 thus do we seek in the individual exception of a rare 
 
 virtue, a connnon identity. So it is we rob the grave to 
 
 monopolize the resplendent (qualities of a parent or ancestor 
 
 or countryman. So also do we rob the ci-oss and approi)ri- 
 
 ating, as by common right, the r^^deeming traits of the 
 
 crucified, the gracious attributes of a redeeming Saviour 
 
 are made to give radiance and character to deeds, Avhich 
 
 liad otherwise left us in darkness, sneaking around 
 G 
 
08 
 
 RKVEHIKS OF AN OLD SMOKKR. 
 
 on our hands nnd knees, — not seeking an honest man as 
 did Diogenes, hut hiding, fleeing from an infuriated rab- 
 ble, the demons invoked by our own conscience. Thus it 
 comes about, we see all around us people who do not in- 
 convenience themselves with a higher or more troublesome 
 conception of what is '* Christianlike" than an indifferent 
 observance of automaticforms, magnifying these exercises, 
 as they do their benevolence, into a species of pious pen- 
 ance in which one would think the agony of remorse for 
 assumed "short- comings," only second in intensity to that 
 portrayed in the burning, spluttering flesh of the martyrs, 
 and claiming with them, in the meantime, a full share 
 of the atoning graces won at the stake. 
 
 As in the case of the few whose noble deeds we applaud, 
 and the credit of which we generally appropriate, I would 
 like to see a reconstruction of the perverted sense of a 
 few noble words, and have restored to them something 
 like an adequate share of the true meaning corresponding 
 not to our upstart pretensions, but to their ancient and 
 honourable lineage. I do not object so much to the mon- 
 opoly of splendid names in ordinary traffic, or as tokens 
 purely of affection ; .as in France we see the meanest 
 wines branded and called by the grandest names, — in this 
 case if we do not like the article, we are under no 
 obligation to accept it : the brand, indeed, is only a mild 
 type of a very common fraud of which we are all cog- 
 nizant. In America, too, we find the shadiest population 
 taking upon themselves imperial nomenclature and 
 exhausting the whole category of great names in history 
 
orU (HAIUTIKS. 
 
 99 
 
 sacrtMl, and profane — that is notliing, it is only a matter 
 of taste or simple custom. Nevertheless, while it woald 
 not be proper for a man to call himself by the name of 
 Christ, is it not a still greater outrage to see liim appro- 
 priating to himself the attributes of Christ, and thus seek- 
 ing to embellish his Vnazen image by assuming the 
 sanctity of the " Saviour," — and yet this is the conunonest 
 thing in life to behold. Not only the old things com- 
 ing down to us from antiquity have put on new dis- 
 guises, but words have changed, and many of them in 
 their po\ er and expression have <legenerated ; indeed 
 language we may once have used to prai.se, now would be 
 opprobrious, and regarded not simply as words, but as 
 names, and particularly those of virtues, their exalted 
 characteristics have become <legr}ided, not ahrne to the 
 low level of the most commonplace achievements, but to 
 subserve tlie high ecomium we pronounce on everything 
 we do. It is sickening to observe how magnificently th<'y 
 are applied to little deeds — yes, deeds only actually good 
 enough to save the performer from being ignored or abso- 
 lutely detested ; thus, as I have said, in the mean but 
 natural effort to swell the reward we aggrandize the deed, 
 and most frequently, as we should not know merit biit 
 for the comparison to an op})Osite quality, the temptation 
 is strong, failing our ability or inclination to exalt the 
 former, to degrade the latter. 
 
 VI. 
 
 The fact is, mixed up an<l absorbed as we are in 
 
100 
 
 IlKVKIUKS OF AN OLD SMoKKK. 
 
 the grovi'lling affairs of our daily life, our minds and our 
 monstrous assumption of winge<l virtues are sailing up- 
 ward and buzzini; like Hies close under the azuie ceilinir 
 of the universe, — and there, fastening on to some of the 
 glistening jewels of that heavenly sphere, they stick, and 
 spawn, and multiply, till the object, by the sheer weight 
 of these crlustered insects, is drawn down and sinks to 
 earth. — Then, like so many other things pertaining to our 
 boasted eminence, when it rises into light again, as a 
 thing that is drowned, it is brought to the top only by 
 the gas engendered through corruption. Thus liave we 
 prostituted the good word Charity, and the virtue it re- 
 presents has been so twisted and warped and disfigured 
 that now, attired in the tawdry livery Of public service, 
 and set up in the jugglery business, all altered and dis- 
 guised, her own sister, Truth, would not know her. Ah, 
 when Charity [>ut on her new shoes, she left her charac- 
 ter in the old ones. Poor Charity, how sadly has the 
 world corrupted thee, and where shall we find a meaner 
 hack than thou ! Thy tinselry was never more dazzling, 
 but thy splendor may not shine like the spotless shene 
 of thy lost innocence I Get thee back to the hollow mock- 
 eries of whose affluent condescension and sordid selfish- 
 ness thou art but the graceful menial. Sincerity, in her 
 liumblest gown, would shame thee. Seek not, with thy 
 bawdy smile, to ingratiate thyself into the refuge of the 
 persecuted and despised, for the conditions of thy love 
 are liarder to bear than the penalty of their transgi-ession. 
 They mav seem comforted under thv ministration, and 
 
OVti ( HARITIKS. 
 
 101 
 
 .soiiiHtniies, in<KM'.l, they an* nen«'fit»'<l, Imt tlu' iittit' thou 
 luiiij^est tlieiu is haniiH^reil like tht' sixpence* with the 
 medicine ottered to the child. This is no inapprnpriate 
 apostrophe to the jade we call ( 'harity. Hnt how is it, 
 with all our esteem foi- what is |mre and p'nuine, we 
 should take pride in a counterfeit so disreputahle ^ There 
 is about the alchemy of words an ideal element peculiarly 
 drcejitive an<l pleasin<^ ; and whereas the transnuitation 
 (►f metals only aimed at the production of gold, the prize 
 in this case is the enhancement of our self-esteem. Things 
 that we know are not gold we call golden, and this distinc- 
 tion as regards mateiial things is kept fairly detined, hut 
 as in things fanciful the o})posite is the case, that which 
 has eversosuiall a grain of kindliness we call charitabUs 
 but that little grain put under a lens as powerful as our 
 disposition to exaggerate, and held up to public view, is 
 magnified, so that a degree of excellence, only remotely 
 pertaining to what is good, gets tt> be regarded as the good 
 thing itself. Thus, as a clever lawyer often gains a case by 
 the mere tvun of an expression, and there])y reverses the 
 whole order of right and wrong, so, Mice the hoodwinked 
 jury, are we deceived by a subtle play on words, and the 
 slightest glimmering of truth is flashed up into what is 
 made to appear the fnll blazing orb. Aye, and ns we jump 
 in comparison of merit most absurdly from good to bad, so 
 in the reverse order of panegyric, that which is not 
 positively cruelty, gets to be lauded as superlative charity. 
 There are, it is true, redeeming shades of kindline.ss even 
 in our pompous display of benevolence, but as the diamond 
 
102 
 
 KKVKHILS OF AS OI.I» SMOKKR. 
 
 a}).soil)s tin* very faintest rays of light and flashes thciii 
 hack again great dazzling sunheanis, so have we monopo- 
 lized tho procrious namo and suhlinie niission of Charity, 
 that she, like the diamond, mav take in our most distant 
 gleams of pity, and inflect hack upon us a refulgent glory, 
 not our own. In this way, too, may we accotuit for much 
 of the arrogance of people, and espeeiall}' that pre])oster- 
 ous assumption of superiority over otliers, which is a 
 marked feature (jf our "higher life." I am hound to say 
 it is only too often the ahsurd assumption of a magnificent 
 moral and social elevation, all as ludicrous as to stride a 
 stuffed eagle and imagine one's-selfriding on a whirlwind, 
 soaring, with all the hrute instincts and incund)rances 
 of the flesh, to an aerie in that virgin realm, whose purity 
 is the perpetual and innnaculate snow! 
 
 VII. 
 
 A poor man has fallen in the street ; he may have been 
 drunk, but now he is biuised and bleeding, may be 
 dying ; a public guardian takes him in charge and has 
 him conveyed to the hospital, where he will be properly 
 cared for. Is a regulation of this .soi't, charity ? No 
 there is no particle of charity about it. It is simply the 
 exercise of common humanity', and anything less were 
 brut;\lity — cruelty ! It may be said they feed and doc- 
 tor and nurse him till he is well for a merely nominal 
 charge which in case he has no money, is not insisted on. 
 Well, such a provision, while being commendable, is at the 
 .same time necessary — it is wanting, however, in the in- 
 
OVU CHAI:ITIES. 
 
 103 
 
 j^rt'dient of option, to make it setMn even kin<lly — and as 
 for its hein^ charital»le, it is no more so than any other 
 «'xcellent municipal regulation con<lu(;ive to the public 
 weal, — as, for instance, compulsory vaccination. Intleetl, 
 it is no particular credit to the good word benevolence to 
 call it that, being as it really is, a simple common-place 
 j)rovision for all such emergencies as might be expected 
 in communities priding themselves on their opulence 
 and liberality, and abounding most plentifully, we may 
 observe, where the generosities of the people are ma<ie 
 the agreeable hobbies of the more affluent. True, tlie 
 bill presented the poor convalescent is not exorbitant, 
 it may lie a mere bagatelle, but if he have ever so 
 little money, they manage to worm it out of him, and in 
 the case of the decrepit, if they have any work left in 
 their old lK)ne3 they manage to grind it out also, and 
 that not always in the gentlest and most considerate 
 manner. It is not my i)urpose, here, to examine the re- 
 cords of " Our Charities," — they are, it is only too well 
 known, replete with provocation, hypocrisy, and outrage. 1 
 simply ask, what constitutes their claims to the sublime 
 title they have assumed ? Is it the cheapness of these 
 institutions ^ Aye, then, they are only such a refuge in 
 misery and destitution, hh may, not inappropriately, f)e 
 termed " bon marche." 
 
 But you say, suppose a man build an institution and 
 j'ive it to the indii^ent and afflicted — now this is con- 
 sidcred the "piece cle reslMan-ce" and anything but eulogy 
 would b^ construed as downright blasphemy — well, is not 
 
104 
 
 RtVKRII-S OK AN <»I,r» SMOKKR. 
 
 that cliaiity ^ I inuy stein obtuse, peiveree, prejiuliced, 
 but I must cniplintically say— N<> ! The man who is ahir 
 to do such a thin;;, lias hoanled up his money and wlien he 
 finds he eannot possihl}' use it to atiord him tlie ^^rnHfica- 
 tion he I'Xpeeted, lie feels disappointed, eha^riiwid ; it loses 
 its eharm, and he wiys in that dire perplexity that liaulks 
 the most suceessful sehenier—'' What shall 1 do with it" — 
 as a man would who is trying to run away with more than 
 he ean earry. He is just generous enough to deeide n<»t 
 to hury it, ns he wouM have a legal right to do; li«» 
 knows he will not live long, aud as founding an institu- 
 tion is the only way a man <*;in deeently huild a monu- 
 ment to himself ami live to enjoy it, he huilds this 
 monument, and the world l)ows dowi\ to it and calls it 
 Charity, and the man a philanthropist ; at the same time 
 this ffood man mav have brothers and sistei*s and ai^ed 
 parents grubbing through a miserable rxistenee and suf- 
 fering absolute privation, whom he utterly ignores orag- 
 gi'avates with some slight remembrance. In this connec- 
 tion, we njay mention that a monument does not require 
 the substrAtvnii of humandust to make it a memorial, and 
 many of these, instead of being simple columns, are reared 
 in the form of an edifice, or something that may be util- 
 ized, and as such serve a two-fold f)urpose, — they may Im' 
 useful and beneficial to a conmiunity and at the same 
 time memorize the 'person by whose bounty they were 
 erected. So it is, now-a-da^'s, when a large sum is given 
 by way of " charity," the donor is rather prone to require 
 it to take this shape, and seeks to make the gift the price 
 
Ot'lt ( IIAUITIKS. 
 
 lo:, 
 
 o 
 
 f an <'inlnnii<,' snuvcnir. Now, t<» give this ainouiit 
 away in small siuiis to the <listres>je<l, as we wouhl ail- 
 minister ntedieine to the sick, ih>es n<»t seem to answer 
 tlie purpose of the modern philanthropist, so he foun<ls or 
 «ii«l(>WN an institution with th«' professed object of amel- 
 iorating future distress. This would U» all very eoni- 
 niendahle, leaving out the ipiestion of motive, were it not 
 that we have too many huildings of that sort now; be- 
 sides, the ])ublic "benefactor," in this ease, must inevit- 
 ably have p'assed so many in the travail of great innne- 
 diat*' want. And, why may we not «|Uot»' in this connec- 
 tion, "an<I shrtieient unto the day!" Na}*, had the indi- 
 viduals referred to <dven awav what thev did in h-ssnote- 
 worthy items, they might and probably must have don«' 
 without a sjdendid "charity" monument, and the wealth 
 therein entailed had been swallowed up in that great 
 troubled sea of hungering humaititv. 
 
 Again you say, can we hope to find anything more 
 U'nevoN'nt, more charitable, than our Romish and English 
 (hurehes, together with their splendid group of affiliated 
 institutions. It does appear that way and no doubt with 
 a certain amount of desert ; but we can only judge these 
 institutions by our knowledge of individuals. I have 
 seen men, and they were mueh above the average lot, who 
 were sympathetic and " charitable" in a distant view of 
 those objects and situations which are supposed to inspire 
 such sentiments, and their voices, often laised in random 
 commiseration, were a power of benevolence. 1 do not 
 say they were not sincere, I believe in their way they 
 
KMJ 
 
 REVEUIKS OF AN OIJ> SMOKEH. 
 
 were*, and so far it was all woll cnouj^li, conHidering tli«' 
 (»l»j«?ct.s were sufficiently remote to allow tlieni to conjuiv 
 tip eases they thought worthy of their approhntion. Hut, 
 iiiin«l you, it was all u charity of fancy, — a spectral coni- 
 torter risinj^ in the midst of their cheerful surroundings to 
 make them Hush and smile in self-^ratidation, — a blooming' 
 exotic, with, however, insufficient fragrance, leave alone 
 fruit, to overcome tlu^ first douhtful sniHTof a conHictin;; 
 smell. Their sympathy and charity was all invented on 
 ideal, pattern principles to correspond, not to what 
 misery i», hut what it ouifht to be ; and these same men 
 brought close up to some disgusting novelty in the way 
 of, not physical <letormity, but real mental and bodily 
 surtering, in nine cases out of ten, detect an odor about 
 it or its history that displeases them, and they are, all at 
 once, j)ossessed with an insuffenable repugnance — a poKi'ivc 
 aversion. The fact is, we are all humanitarians in the 
 abstract, but bring us in actual contact with all the 
 objectionable details, and the whys and wherefores that 
 lead to trouble and <lown the hill to want and degradation, 
 and it cools us ofi' immensely, and the cucumber in our 
 bosom is no longer a warm responsive heart. 
 
 ^o it is when a wrong is committed, the perpetrator, 
 evincing a depravity actually only a few degrees below, 
 not our fancy standard, but the real moral average, and a 
 great hue and cry is raised, — the poor victim is regarde<l 
 a,s a mon.ster, an abnormal exception to the rest of his 
 species, and as in the " reign of terror" during the Frencli 
 Revolution, so now, in our social intercourse, we dare not, 
 
OUR ( HAKITII 
 
 107 
 
 it" we wouM, sytnpatliizr ; tlit're in such a tU-klish inistrtiHt 
 of S4»lf ami of otlnTs" opinions of us, wt» tliink, we pro- 
 fesH a iM'coniin^' al»horrenee of the criminal hy approving 
 and advocating an iniplac4ihle and excoriating sentence, 
 mid in th«^ chorus of denunciation no voice is heard ho 
 loudlv vocifer; Hnj; t) hi hnxtei^i*' as that of the "char- 
 itahle" and "virtuous" ntuth. It is \\\ sudi dehisive ex- 
 (•••Hses as I have attempted to drsciihe, and hy makinj; up 
 character hy false and responsihh' estimates, w»' arrive at 
 tliase grand results by which we swell the train of our 
 pompous pretensions. Tt is thus we are exalted almve 
 iMuselves, a]M)Ve ri'j^ret, ahove pity, alx)ve penitence, and 
 Mild so much tliat should excite our deeptjst commisj'ra- 
 tion, unahle to commend itself to our overtrained and 
 liackoneyed sensihilities. It is thus, too, we evant^elize con- 
 ceit, and canonize luxury, and make the slops that ooze 
 out of the fj^luttonous ceremonial the boasted tribute we 
 
 • lub charitv. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 In the lukewarm spasms of pity that Hit in the sputterin*» 
 tallow of our hearts, behold those beacon li«,dits that radi- 
 ate afar; but instead of warminj^ and cheering the dingy re- 
 fuge of the poor, they are made rather to shed a halo (jf pious 
 Ixmevolence around those ostentatious monuments we call 
 our charities." Our charities, forsooth ! If these two 
 words mean anything at all, then what a world of pent- 
 up sympathy do they comprehend for the human race 
 and for all the ills that " Hesh is heir to," — what inexhaus- 
 tible reservoirs of loving, forgfivintr commisenition, not for 
 
108 
 
 KKVKIUFS OF AN uLD SMoKKtt. 
 
 tlie sweet-sinelUnj; anil heautiful onlv, Imt for the most 
 repulsive and tlie worst kind of tribulation and distress. 
 There is, I admit, a halo of good intention surrounding; 
 thene institutions ; hut perverted with fanaticism, fettered 
 and chilled with tljeolog3% they are heconie a species of 
 splendid advertisement — the go6<l work, a competition of 
 of rival sects for conveits, and a conHict of bigots for 
 souls. Here, poor broken-down humanity is prepared for 
 dissolution by l)eing put through the throes of exorcism, 
 and all the comfort eked out of charity is pricking and 
 bleeding in an agony of " thorns " — Syndjols of benign in- 
 tent moulded in stone, our charities are jnesented to 
 the pul)lic in the splendid guise of im|)osing architecture, 
 and yet to the pooi* and hungry their good cheer is as the 
 feast of Tant lus, and their towering symmetry not less 
 repulsive than the grimmest spectre of destitution. — Monu- 
 ments of superabundance, lising sphinx-like in a <lesert. 
 they smile down in gloomy grandeur, an<l while assuming 
 to be hot-beds warming in tenderest sympathy, are, witii 
 rare excej)tions, gilde<l refrigerators, which, while drip- 
 ping tears of pity on the outside, are congealing within 
 in an atmosphere of frost and ice. 
 
 As we have observed, there is a general tendency t 
 sublimate not only petty deeds of so-called charity, but 
 other things as Avell, which, while enhancing, to an 
 absurd degree, the importance of acts which are sim- 
 ])ly humane or j)olitic, gives a relative degree of re- 
 spectability to others wdiich, if not down-right despicable, 
 are at least only mediocre. Thus, praising to the skies 
 
 o 
 
OUR rHARITIKS. 
 
 1 01) 
 
 the peit'uriiiaijce of a simple duty, makes the omis- 
 sion to do wliat we ought to do seem, if not laud- 
 able, at least excusable. In saying aught against 
 anything held in such jealous esteem as are the in- 
 stitutions to whieli 1 have referred, it may seem to 
 many like scofting at the J)ivine, — if so, my apology is 
 tliey are not divine. Moreover, yielding the subliine tri- 
 bute of charity to all that comes under the head of simple 
 l)enevolence, however gratifying it maybe to the giver of 
 ' ahns" and the founder of memorial palaces for the poor, 
 indicates, in my humble judgment, three things : — first, the 
 fulsome putting of our puny virtues ; second, a vulgar esti- 
 mate of the attributes of the Most High ; third, the righteous- 
 ness of protest. I cast no slur on the true spirit of religion; 
 and in all I have said, I have failed to make myself under- 
 stood, if I have not succeeded in inspiring the feeling that, 
 on the one hand, we should set a higher estimate on all 
 wise precept, and, on the other, cultivate a clearer, 
 purer conception of all things jiertaining to those vir- 
 tues which go to make up the elements of a truly noble 
 and ingenuous chamcter. In the bearinjj such senti- 
 iiients have upon my subject, I have sought to give 
 them expression in words which, injustice to the effort, 
 it must be confessed are weak and ineffectual, when com- 
 pared with the more powerful and pathetic appeal of 
 visible proof abounding on every side ; and in this con- 
 nection I may mention a tableau that often presents it- 
 self to my mind — I mean the sight of charity shivering 
 on the steps of ** our charities." 
 
110 
 
 REVERrES OF AX OLD SMOKER. 
 
 In conclusiun, you may ask, what is Charity, then, 
 to one so sceptical ? I confess the answer is difficult. It is 
 much easier to reply in the negative and tell what it is 
 not and I may say emphatically it is not the thing we see 
 paraded about, banqueted,an(l aggrandized, and apostroph- 
 ized as such; indeed it is something more rehned even than 
 the extreme opposite of what is barbarous and cruel. Ah, 
 but then you say with a little more deference for what 
 the good word means, but all the more persistently, <'A<» 
 is Charity ? I answer, no one can tell. We may define the 
 word but not the spirit. Indeed, to say she is the rarest 
 and sublimest of all the virtues does not describe her, nor 
 do her any manner of justice. Those who have felt her 
 touch may know her by that — it is grateful and pure 
 as tlie first reviving kiss of fragrant spring upon the 
 cold marble cheek of poor frozen winter. We may feel and 
 yet be powerless to define, and were I a Gainsborough, in 
 word painting, I might have the desire but not the ability 
 to attempt her portrait. Suffice it then as the most lovablo 
 if not the most beautiful of all the graces she had made a 
 conquest of the heart of Christ, when He kissed Mary 
 Magdalene, called her " sister," forgave her, and bade her 
 *' depart in peace and sin no more." 
 
Lary 
 her 
 

 FIRST EXPERIENCK UNDER FIRE. 
 
 A REMINISCENCE OF THE AMERICAN CIVIL WAR. 
 
 I. 
 
 ANY one who has never licard the " long roll," particu- 
 larly in time of war, in camp and in close proximity 
 to the enemy, has missed one of the most, I think I may say, 
 the most stirring of all alarms. It is a continuous roll of 
 the drum, setMuing to increase in volume and intensity 
 with each successive moment, and is kept u[> for some 
 tiuje, according to circumstances. It is nt^ver resorted to 
 except in cases of extreme danger, and then, while it never 
 fails to inspire the liveliest ai)prehension in the minds of 
 many, the emergency calls into requisiti(m all the silent, 
 ([uestionless alacrity of the soldier. The meaning is, "to 
 arms," and the crisis almost warrants the assumption that 
 the enemy is in sight and advancing to attack. Then comes 
 the quick incisive order to " tall in," and straightway each 
 company commander and subaltern, each sergeant and pri- 
 vate, vies with the other in the credit and honor of being 
 first in "company" and on "battalion line." Every thought, 
 every business or diversion other than that pertaining to 
 the new and startling situation must give way, and yield 
 the most prompt obedience to that inexorable summons 
 to expectant combat, the issue of which is life or death, 
 
114 
 
 HKVERIES OF AN OLJ> SM<»KE1{. 
 
 himI tlie near approacli of* tlie dn.'a<l alttTiiativr' is niiinis' 
 mistakably proclaimed in that fateful roll and rueful 
 rumble of the drum. The change, then, from the mono- 
 tonous routine of eveiy-day camp life to all the necessary 
 prei)arations for attack and defence, can only in a very 
 slight degree be imagined by those whose good fortunes 
 have " cast their lines" far away from the arena of bloody 
 strife, in those pleasant ways of peace and harmony where 
 nothing more serious disturbs the (piiet serenity of social 
 life than the occasional uproar of an anniversary, the dis- 
 cord of a domestic .S(|uall, or the sudden jar of an un- 
 friendly knockdown. Some are reading or writing — not 
 a few telling stories or playing cards, and many loungin<^ 
 about homesick and listless. Not the least di.splease<l, 
 too, of the many who find this change of progiamme olj- 
 jectionable, are those engaged, as quite a number are likely 
 to be, in the popular and highly commendable process of pre- 
 paring the coming meal. It may be that which is welcomed 
 so gratefully, either in the bracing, appetizing air of early 
 dawn, or in the hungrier, more sumptuous hour of noon. 
 Under any other conditions, cookie's time-honored pre- 
 rogative of exemption had held its ground inviolable and 
 supreme, but none better than he knows, in this great 
 emergency, how sweeping and inexorable that imperative 
 summons, so significantly heralded, of " All fall in." If, 
 then, he stops to remove from the treacherous fire his little 
 feast of savory stew, his tempting roast of beef or fowl, 
 he does so in frantic haste, and at his own proper peril. 
 
 I believe it was in the autumn of '03 that the event to 
 which my narrative refers took place. We were encamped 
 nearthe little village of Suffolk, in Eastem Virginia, and had 
 
KIHST EXPKHIENCK UNDER KIRK. 
 
 n:> 
 
 Ix^en liavinc^Mi very "soft tluii;; " of it, with very little 
 to do, outside our re»jular drill, hut ride about, get 
 up games, and liave our photographs taken ; not a few 
 of us at this time developing a faculty for correspon- 
 dence we didn't know we possessed l)efore, but it was 
 of the "spicy" sort; our reading too, was not the kind 
 to win us promotion, being of the order yclept " light ;" 
 history, it is true, we patronized, not, however, as 
 consumers, but producers. Our mSnu was rather scant, 
 and we alternately fasted on " hard-tack and salt-horse," 
 furnished by a none too liberal conmiissariat,and feasted on 
 the boxes of good things sent from home. We use«l to have 
 occasional marches out for a change, but so far ha<l hardly 
 exchanged shots with the enemy, having honorably man- 
 aged, some way, to shy round one and other, and there 
 liad been nothing of what might be calle<l fighting with 
 our regiment, although some of the others had had a 
 little " out-post" exercise, not unattended with blood- 
 shed. Thus far I was not able to boast of having been un- 
 <ler fire, and the little narrative of my maiden engage- 
 ment was still a thing of the future. Indeed, up to this 
 time I knew no more about the music of b\illets than ha<l 
 been obtainable, in a rudimentary way, in cautiously avoid- 
 ing the range at target practice. From this, it may be in- 
 ferred, I think correctly, that I, for one, was not '* spoiling 
 for a fight ; " nevertheless my turn was coming, and not 
 long to be delayed. I remember the day, but not the 
 date ; had that evening received a box from home, full of 
 all sorts of hixuries and lots of trood things to eat, drink 
 
no 
 
 RKVKIUKS OF AN (>M> SMoKKR. 
 
 and bu uieiTy over ; MUch, indeed, as but one woman in tlio 
 world can devise, and .she I always claimed to be my own 
 mother. We did have a «^rand feast on this occasion - a 
 regular tuck-out, and one to be recalled subsecpiently in 
 nmny a tryin*,' interval of starvation and hardship. When 
 the banijuet was over and our little band luul wishe<i each 
 other good-ni«^ht, I got out niy pipe to smoke a " niglit- 
 cap," and think of home, and of th(i one especially to whose 
 affection and forethought 1 was indeV)ted for such good 
 cheer. Then it was, 1 think, I began to feel a bit gloomy, 
 and, in my absent-mindedness, let my pipe go out, which, 
 M'ith me, is a bad sign ; am not sure but that 1 had the 
 least shade of a presentiment of something about to 
 happen, of a nature unhappily contrasting with our 
 evening's entertainment. Before turning in, I poked my 
 head out to take a look around — " taps " had sounded some 
 time before, and with the extinguishing of lights, for 
 which they are the signal, had come an end to revelry. The 
 camp was hushed and dark, and the convivial orgies of the 
 eight hundred men who composed out battalion, had died 
 away into silence and repose. I had hardly lain down and 
 commenced the harmless exercise of snoring, when I was a- 
 loused by a fearful rumbling sound, which grew louder and 
 louder till it seemed to grapple my drowsy senses and shake 
 them wide awake. Then I was able to distinguish the 
 tramping of feet outside, and the confused hum of voices, 
 amongst which could be heard the harsh, guttural word of 
 command. At this moment there was a sudden spring from 
 the bunk next to mine, and the voice of my old chum, 
 West, exclaimed impulsively: — " It's the long roll, by Jove !" 
 
FIHST KXI'KIUKNCE ITNhEU FIRK. 
 
 117 
 
 II. 
 
 It seems our pickets had Injen «lrivrn in, iiul.of (•o»ii-sr, 
 we lia<l been onleie<l out. From this |M)int in my narra- 
 tive we may pass li«,ditly over what transpired till we near 
 the scene of action and of my tirst experience under fiix*. At 
 any rate, owin^' to the confusion, I do not remember much 
 of what occurred until some distance had been traversed 
 on the march out. Our direction was across the Nanci- 
 numd river, westerly towards tht; Black water; the latter 
 stream was some eii'htor ten miles awav, the former just 
 outside our line of fortifications. This was the route 
 whence the alarms <]renerally proc»;eded, and which we <;en~ 
 erally took ; it le<l ri^dit into the enemy's country, where 
 there was understood to be a large force' assembled, threat- 
 ening our strongliold — in fact we had been expecting to 
 be besieged every day, as indeed we were, later, by (Jcneral 
 Longstreet. The night was dubious, and gave rather un- 
 pleasant indications of a storm — a star twinkled fitfully 
 here and there through chinks in the clouds, seeming to 
 give eyes to vapory monsters that looked down upon a 
 darkened scene, lighted, from time to time, by those fan- 
 tastic Hames and phos[)horescent fiashes peculiar to the 
 swamp regions of the south. 
 
 The roads, which were, as might have been expected in 
 that part of the country, miserably bad, led nearly all the 
 way through bog and bush land, being crossed by number- 
 less little streams, but no bridges. I always feel rather 
 " skittish " in the woods at night ; I don't niean frightened 
 
]|8 
 
 RKVKHIF-S OK AN (U.U SMoKKH. 
 
 Imt fidj^cty, though in tl»e «biy-tii!ie no ono can hr more 
 ready or willinj^ to take refuge there, aiitl well do I call 
 to niind the dash ami energy with wliich I have pene- 
 trated their recesses in quest of deer or partridge. But this 
 was (juite a different sort of game; heretofore, the shooting 
 had been all on niv side, now the honors were to be 
 divided, and I confess the change was not so agreeable as 
 might have been Hupposecl by those who are descended 
 from a warlike family, and from ancestors to whom light- 
 ing was at once an agreeable pastime, and an anti-dys- 
 j)etic exercise. Without feeling, as I rememlKjr, any special 
 desire to meet the enemy, I had managed to appear pretty 
 fairly and becomingly indifferent ; but the nature of the 
 low lying, swampy, woody country, heilging us in all 
 round, was suggestive in the extreme, and more than 
 once 1 found myse'.f calculating the chances of an ambus 
 cade ; but that was unpleasant to ponder over, so I tried 
 to think of somethini; else. It was no unwelcome diver- 
 sion that I began to feel about this time a bit hungry, and 
 my thoughts recurred to the box I had received and the 
 good things, all snug in camp awaiting my return, and a re- 
 newal of the feast. It is always cheering to anticipate the 
 keen appetite one will be sure to have afterso much march- 
 ing and fasting ; on these occasions, too, one's mind turns 
 back to home and friends, and now as we marched silently 
 along, I believe those amongst us who had any body to 
 care for Ihem, thought of the place far away, where they 
 had sai<l good-by, and wondered wistfidly what a night 
 niight bring forth. My thoughts, at least, took some such 
 
FfRST FXPKRIHNCK UNDKIl KIRK. 
 
 119 
 
 a turn. I was a moru boy then, but it all conios up in 
 vivid retrospect, how F thought I saw Homethinj^ In dear 
 nld mother's anxious fare that made me uneasy ; indeed, 
 r think then I wished myself well quit of that night's 
 business, and was «|uite willing and rea<ly t<M'Xchange all 
 the romance of war, or at least that which was Pkely to 
 accrue to my heroism, for the more precious assurance of 
 an undiminished length of hundde, prosy biogmphy, in 
 that hill-side home which, under the circumstances seemed 
 so incomparably ' the dearest spot on eartli," 
 
 III. 
 
 Our column was composed of one brigade uf infantry, 
 two regiments of cavalry, and one battery of artillery ; * 
 also, I may add here, a company of sharp- shooterj*, 
 though they nevercount much in a fight. As we a()[)roached 
 the place where the enemy was thought to be posted, we 
 were constantly being startled by false alarmsfromthefront, 
 and though these were somewhat of an annoyance, and not 
 a little strain on our nerves, they kept us from being as 
 drowsy as we otherwise should have been, and as one is 
 apt to be in a lonesome tedious march at night. In this way 
 we had been trudging along for over two hours in constant 
 a|>prehension, and without discovering any sign of oppo- 
 sition. It was not the first time we had been routed out of 
 our comfortable beds, for what turned out to have been a 
 
 * 69th, 99th, l.Wth New York, and the 13th Indiana reginientH, Infantry ; 
 11th PonnHylvania Cavalry, and lat N. Y. Mounted Rifles ; an Indiana hat 
 lery, toJ,'eth^r witli a <letavhjn**nt of Tith U^it*^*^ States Artillery » 
 
120 
 
 BEVEUIKS OF AN OLD KMOKKR. 
 
 inidni^'ht " wil«J-got)Hfc-chaRC," an<l tliere wbh already some 
 mIiow 'of gruinMinpf in the ranks. M«'anwhilo, nm not 
 aware I was {mrticiilarly diHappointtHl to tVel our chanet's 
 for a meeting' were growing Hliniiiu'i-, and tlit* prospect of a 
 " bniHh" dwindling' away into a tedious eounteiinareh hack 
 to camp. Any uneasiness 1 may have felt at first how- 
 ever, was rapidly suhsidini^, wlien all nt once the ptillnesH 
 of every hody and every thin^ around and amonj^st us was 
 broken hy the sharp detonation of a dozen shots Hre«l in 
 quick succession — tliesc were followe<l almost imme<liately 
 hy a volley, and then another and still louder discharge, 
 all of which ran^j out with startlin*^ distinctness on the 
 night air. 
 
 This little by-play took place at a point about a mile or 
 so distant in our front, and the intelligence wasflashed back 
 upon the wliole length and breadth of our weary, listless 
 column that at last we had struck the foe, — we knew, then, 
 that the chorus of rifles still ringing in our ears, was, as 
 it turned out to be, our advance guard in contact with 
 and driving in the enemy's outpost. If my memory 
 serves me right, I am correct in saying it wiis not 
 found necessary to issue the order that all dreaming shouM 
 be temporarily discontinued. We were all thoroughly 
 aroused, and having been halted opened out nind)ly in 
 two lines to the right and left of the road. This was to 
 make way for the General comman<ling, (Corcoran), who 
 galloped up smartly fiom the "rear," and proceeded to 
 the " front," closely follow^ed by liis statt' and the battery 
 
KIKST EXI'KIIIKNCK UNDEK KIRE. 
 
 121 
 
 of artillery all a In j)^le'm/lc. llien we clostMl in (piiekly 
 l)ehiii<l, ami rrsunu'd our forwanl inoveiiicnt. 
 
 Fruin this time on, till uikUt lire, I felt a straii;^e tiiij;- 
 ling sensation, together with an all almorhing hut not un- 
 pleasant intt'rest in what we knew was eoining. Tlie 
 feeling of <lread, all ha«l no douht experienced at Hrst, 
 had yithhMl directly, and was supei-seile*! hy a general im- 
 pulse to rush forward and do something, anything, to re- 
 lieve the fast growing eagerness and susj)ense. On our 
 way, as we passed the spot where the picket firing lind 
 taken place, I got my first sight of a woundeil nuin ; he 
 was lying down partly strip[)ed. in charge of the surgeon 
 who seemed to he endeavorin;j to trace the course of a hul • 
 let which had penetiated the region of the lungs. He was 
 a mere lad, — I caught a glimpse of his face hy the light 
 of a lantern, it was pale and ghastly looking, — but he was 
 quiet an<l resigned, and seemed only weary and faint. This 
 tableau had rather a bad effect on my nt'rves, and I believe 
 just then my face indicated .symptoms of early and rapid 
 decline, or that, at least, I was not in my usual robust 
 liealth and spirits. The spectacle of the wounde«l an<l 
 flying is a severe ordeal for men advancing to share in tlie 
 vicissitudes of an engagement ; indeed, it is the .season of 
 probation, that besets people in every sphere in life, only 
 under the circumstances of which I s{)eak it is gieatly 
 condensed with the travail of spirit proportionately inten- 
 sified. There may be immunity from it, but with some 
 it is the toughest strain they have to bear. 
 
122 
 
 RKVERIES OF AN Ol.D SMOKKH. 
 
 IV. 
 
 li 
 
 We had struck the eneiiiy under General Pryor, at a 
 place called " Deserted House," and the fight which ensued 
 was simply an artillery duel over a field, say eight or nine 
 liundred yards across, environed with forest and swani]). 
 The position of our regiment, after deploying, was about 
 fifty yards in rear of and "su[)poi-ting" the artillery, 
 and while taking post I did not fail to observe we weie 
 being brought right fairly within the focus of our oppon- 
 ents' tire. Sometime before we got settled, our battery, 
 a tidy instrument of fifteen guns, had commenced the 
 the exchange of preliminary compliments with the ene:iiy, 
 who, as it was afterwards ascertained, had about the same 
 weight of metal. Both sides now opened the ball in ear- 
 nest,at point blank range overa bit of meadow land smooth 
 as a tenis lawn and fiat as a billiard table. The gunners, 
 too, roused as they had been from the lethargy of a chill 
 night air, had unlimbered and gone to work with even more 
 than their habitual gusto, and each piece served with a 
 skill which, thi*ough long practice anticipates dilemma, 
 when the emergency comes, it dispenses with deliberation, 
 and acting at a glance, the precision is easy and faultless 
 as the puzzling aptitude of a deft " cue." 
 
 Now the darkness which had before enveloped us, began 
 to give way to the incessant flash of burning powder, and 
 the sulphurous smoke all threw over the scene a luri<i 
 glare, not uidike that we may have witnessed on the stage 
 in incantation scenes of Druid worship. We could see thv 
 
FIRST EXPKUIKXCK UNDEK FIRE. 
 
 ll»3 
 
 cHiinoneers at work, brinj^'ing up bullets ami ammunition 
 from the caisnons, and loading and firing, and they seemed 
 for all the world like those demons of the Catskills who per- 
 formed at nine pins, an<l gesticulated with such elfish glee, 
 before the placid Rip van Winkle. Notwithstanding mat- 
 ters began to assume an air so business-like, still, I confess, 
 for a while I did not, in any degree, realize the situation 
 in all its solemn and dreadful aspect; even attempted 
 an ofi-hand joke, not so much to appear funny, as that I 
 thought it would indicate a becoming nonchalance, and so ex- 
 claimed ; — " Boys, I'm thinking we'll have lights to-night 
 without candles I" Had hardly got the words well out of 
 my mouth, when what seemed tome an uncommonly solid 
 shot struck the top of a tree which had spread its pro- 
 tecting arms over our heads, bringing down a shower 
 of leaves and broken limbs. I may add here, I joked no 
 more that night — felt admonished levity would not be 
 tolerated. Soon after this, the order was passed to lie 
 down ; in the executicm of this simple manoeuvre I gave 
 the example to the rest of the men, and had presence of 
 n)ind enough to select low ground. 
 
 I 
 
 V. 
 
 The cannonade quickly reached its climax, and the 
 crash, to my unaccustomed ears, was simply terrific. 
 Besides, the discharges followed each other so rapidly as 
 to seem almost a continuous roar, except now and then, 
 a simultaneous explosion altogether, not unlike we occa- 
 sionally hear in a mild sort of way, in the irregular clash- 
 
124 
 
 RKVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 ! 
 
 mg of cathedral bells, — then, the earth trembled with the 
 thunder of a salvo, after which came a momentary pause, 
 worse, even, in its tiresome unstringin<^' of nerves than the 
 concussion itself. They were no empty, meaningless, 
 compliments, those giant detonations, — all so like and yet 
 so different from the frolicsome hubbub of noisy anniver- 
 saries, — nay, pat-shots were those huge, plunging, shriek- 
 ing missiles of death, and skinning the ground so closely too, 
 as they seemed to me. Our adversaries' range for a while 
 was, as is almost invarably the case in tiring, too high 
 close, V)ut not close enough ; they were not long, however, 
 in discovering the defect, and set about, as only skilful 
 workmen can, rectifying it; then dov. n, 1. ,vn, down, 
 came that awful trajectory ! I say I lay Hat, but how I 
 longed and shortened and squirmed to get flatter, aye, 
 and for the superlative degree of flat. How lovingly I 
 cuddled that damp, cold ground, I never can forget, and 
 1 see now before me, as plainly as if it had just happened, 
 the eagerness and frantic despair, or maybe I ought rather 
 to say, presence of mind, with which I sought to find 
 a less exposed place, at the same time keeping ns low 
 and as (juiet as if all but my extremities were par:'; > 3(1. 
 I see my hands and fingers gliding about me now lo 
 find that devoutly longed for dimf)le in the ground, and 
 no pitying mother, caressing the bruised and tender bump 
 of a fiistborn could have been half .so })ersistent and yet 
 so gentle, — no blind man, spelling out with his fingers' ends 
 the gladsome hope of restored vision, could have had a 
 touch more exquisitely sensitive than mine as I felt about 
 
FIRST KXPKRIENCE UNDER FIRE. 
 
 125 
 
 me for that priceless indi'utation, that iiiicroscopic chasm 
 wherein to take refuse and to alter, by the fraction of a hair, 
 tlu? awful chances of that gradually sinkinj^ parabola of fire. 
 And oh horroi's those louder explosions seemed almost to 
 raise a fellow up I The ni<;ht was cool and even frosty ,and 
 yet there was a closeness about everything, and the very 
 air seemed tainted with a belliiTferent o<l()ur that was 
 suffocating and oppressive in the extreme. 
 
 I have no hesitation in affirming that had I been 
 the owner of Chatsworth, I had gladly given it to have 
 been at the north pole in search of the toothbrush and 
 shirtbuttons of Sir John Franklin. I could have been buried 
 ulive, indeed, and sphinx-like looked out upon the battle 
 and enjoyed it, but as it was, there I lay all night right in 
 the focus of hell-fire. At one time one of our caissons 
 hlew up, and at another, I remember, a shell struck di- 
 rectly in front of where I lay and ricochetted over our 
 lieads, splashing the dirt up in our faces ; of all that 
 interested crowd of watchful spectators I don't believe 
 one " ducked" on this occasion, they hadn't time. Those 
 bullets come on so precipitately, and take one so confound- 
 edly by surprise. Presently came ray experience of " first 
 killed," I mean in our inuiiediate vicinity. A solid globe of 
 iron, propelled at a velocity of something less than five 
 hundred yards per second, plumped like a shadow right 
 into the line of crouching, shrinking, shivering fc^rms. It 
 had grazed the ground quite near where I lay — ah, I hear 
 it now, and it sounded in the uproar then, not unlike the 
 scratching of my pen, and the impression, in one way, is 
 
IJ 
 
 i 
 
 Si, 
 
 -*., 
 
 n^ 
 ( 
 
 i 
 
 BBEfi s 
 
 
 1 ' 
 
 m 
 
 1.: 
 
 12(i 
 
 REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 similar to that we are so familiar witli wlien a cricket l»all 
 at Prince's, or the Oval, takin<,^ the direction of the ^'rand 
 stand, lands amongst the ladies' petticoats : there is a thud 
 an<l one ima<^ines a miitHedsoimdas of yielding garments, — 
 a murnnir, too, as of stifled sobs, and then all is quiet till 
 the roar of the battle, which seemed hushed a moment, 
 
 rushes in a<»;ain. 
 
 VI. 
 
 That shot killed two of our best men and wounde<l 
 several. It was more than I could bear calndy, expec- 
 tantly. There was in our company a German sergeant 
 of very extensive proportions, indeed, when he sat down 
 he was able fully to monopolize a small sized pew. The 
 bulky veteran was then lying near by. Here was n 
 chance — this was the moment that came to Wellington 
 at Waterloo, and tliat Ney missed at Quatre Bras, — 
 I mean the happy nick of time caught in a glance of 
 lightning rapidity, — that subtle period between perfect 
 fruition and incipient perishing, that one requires to 
 strike, to win the prize, dame fortune, in a fickle mood, nj- 
 lows to gleam an infinitesimal space of time the unguarded 
 prey of those eagle perceptions which, like Napoleon's or 
 Nelson's, seem rather to divine than wait the full deve- 
 lopment. I ordered the sergeant to creep up to where 
 I was — he should have been there anyway, although^ he 
 was not skulking, being, as I can vouch, a brave soldier 
 and a worthy roan. I now put him in the front rank, 
 the post of honour, and modestly settled myself flat down, 
 
FIUST KXI'EUIKNCE irNDEU EIRE. 
 
 12: 
 
 rlirectly in rear of, ami close up to Ins aiiteccilents. 
 After this stage of tlie battle 1 became inoic tranquil and 
 resignetl. Meanwhile, my friend Captain Taylor, who 
 commanded the next company on our left, ha<l not fare«l 
 so well ; his courage ha<l been high enough to raise him 
 on his elbows, whore, with his head cocked, he had been 
 watching the rapid play of the rival batteries. We learn 
 by experience to judge danger by certain signs, and un 
 (ler the circumstances of being " shelled " at night, as we 
 were, an important indication of mischief was the light of 
 the fuse which the enemy was then using ; if stationary in 
 its flight you might consider yourself directly in range, 
 as any other than a direct line would give it motion. 
 Whether poor Taylor had watched these fire-flies till he 
 had become emboldened or whether he saw in that station- 
 ary glimmer a horrible, resistless fascination that rendered 
 him powerless to avert his doom, will never be known ; on 
 comes the fatal slug, a hissing, shrieking, precursor of de- 
 struction — a dull, heavy concussion is heard, — there is a 
 splashing of earth behind the captain, who, turning ([uietly 
 but quickly over on his back,looksuptothe blue archalM)ve, 
 it might have been in the mute consciousness of having, in 
 soldier parlance, escaped " a close call," and as if in the 
 Rilent depths of unutterable gratitude he would have said 
 for the little ones at home and the anxious prayerful wife 
 far away, — " God, I thank thee !" His brother by his side 
 sees his white, ghastly face near his own, and shakes him in 
 the rude impulse of a dawning fear, — then, shrinks away ! 
 Alas ! that once manly form and robust physique had, in 
 
 I 
 
i 
 
 11 
 
 lit .i 
 
 128 
 
 REVKRIES OE AN oM) SMOKEH. 
 
 a flash, undeigone the dreaded metamorphosis of death. 
 Tlie }>all had <lisembowelled him completely, but he was 
 not otherwise man|i(led. I noticed, next day, the gilt buttons 
 of his waistcoat were quite flattened as if with a hammer, 
 though none of them, that I could perceive, were detached. 
 Some excit«*ment in the ranks at one time seemed to at- 
 tract the attention of my sergeant (the one 1 liefore re- 
 fi'rred to) and lie commenced gathering himself up as if 
 he contemplated a change of base ; this new intention on 
 his part was far from meeting my approbation, but, what- 
 ever his plan was, I did not suflfer it to ripen — I " nipped 
 it in the bud." Raising myself slightly, and calling the 
 the sergeant by name, I said, (throwing at the same time 
 all the thunder into my voice I could spare) : — " Sergeant, 
 if you move, you are a dead man ;" and then [ added, in a 
 tone of gentle reproof, — ' we are holding a position of 
 great importance, and our country calls us to be firm." 
 
 Later on, when I had become a trifle more used to this 
 sort of thing, I went with Lieutenant West to another part 
 of the field, and chance threw us into company with the 
 Colonel of our regiment. We w^ere walking along to- 
 gether when a sjiell dropped and exploded with a deafer.- 
 ing noise close at hand ; indeed, it seemed right at our 
 very feet, an appearance which I afterwards found was 
 deceptive. I did not " start " — no, that expression is not 
 quite strong enough — I jumped, I leaped right up into 
 the air, as if every nerve in my sensitive body had been 
 probed, and for a moment or two I thought the breath 
 had been knocked right out of me. It was not so much 
 
FIRST KXrEKIENCE UNDER FIRE. 
 
 120 
 
 fear cither as tluit I was sin'j)nse(l, nnd I tliink the 
 Colonel, a blurt*, profane old vetcmn, saw it in this light, 
 for he swore aC nie in his gentlest, most considerate 
 tone and maimer, and in language too terrible to be re- 
 peated here, philosophized as regards that awfully hot 
 place to which, had that shell been intended for me, I 
 must inevitably have gone ere I had time to jump. 
 
 YII. 
 
 Towards morning the enemy's fire slackened, and we 
 found at daylight, when our line advanced, their main 
 force had retired beyond pursuit. We ha<l (piite a num- 
 ber of killed and wounded ; one poor boy, a bugler, 1 no- 
 ticed with more than common re<'ret as havincf received 
 his quietus that night. He had been a marvellous mimic 
 in his way, and had created more amusement for the 
 regiment than all the rest of our humorous talent put to- 
 gether. They called him " Banty," and many a drenched 
 and dreary bivouac had the exercise of his peculiar faculty 
 made to pass the more cheerily. This eventful morning,how- 
 ever, found him sittingup against a tree — I thought at first 
 he was asleep — the poor lad looked a;-; if he were only 
 tired of making fun, and had relapsed, as such characters 
 often do, into an uncommon fit of seriousness, but alas, 
 poor Banty ! a fiagment of shell had entered his brain, 
 and he was quite dead. 
 
 Apropos of casualties, T may mention, that it is erro- 
 neous to think, as some do, that the wounded and dying 
 in an engagement give vent to their misery in loud cries 
 
130 
 
 KEVKKIKS OF AN OLD SMOKEH. 
 
 
 of nj^ony an«l snpplit'ation. When u man is liit, lie drops 
 — that is if badly Imrt— hut it is no ran* occunt'iKc that 
 a btroiij^ man will kvv\) Y\^\\t on loadif!-,^ and firing', al- 
 though severely wounded, and in Ins excitement not 
 even notice it, till he falls exhausted, — not from exertion, 
 as he thinks, hut from loss of hlood. The mortally 
 ■wounded sink ri^ht (U)wn — saying not a word, and pass- 
 ing away without evincing nmeh if any pain. Bu^ 
 Avhile in those liard cases, there is a kind ii"d mercifully 
 soothing sort of numhness, wl)ich makes the blow com- 
 ])aratively easy to hear, tliere is a way of being hit, wliich, 
 while there is no particle of injury done, the eti'ect is 
 altogether most ))ainful and terrifying — 1 mean in the 
 case of a "spent ball" — and then it is not at all uncom- 
 mon to see the bravest men behave like children, an<l 
 set up a most ])itiful wail althougli the missile did not 
 even penetrate the skin, and was nothing v/orse than a 
 " stinger." 
 
 As regards iirst experience under tire, I believe the 
 sensations 1 have attempted to describe were not exclu- 
 sively applicable to my own case, but are felt to a greater 
 or less extent by all who participate, for the first time, 
 in that especially rough game of war, — and who, in 
 their fresh, blooming novitiate, find themselves situated 
 as I was, in that most trying of all predicaments in which 
 a soldier, though he be a veteran, can be placed, — that is, 
 inactive, within easy range of a well-served battery, 
 and right within the focus of a well-sustained artillery 
 fire of shot and shell, with now and then the spicy 
 
FIRST KXrKlUENCE UNDEU FIKE. 
 
 131 
 
 ii()vt»lty «>t* a spriiikliiij^ of " shmpnel." In the onlinary 
 ttH'airs ot" life, we nu# unfie([uently [»a.ss thmu^'h einer- 
 gencieH of a iiioMt dangerous cliaraeter, hut uii<ler nuch 
 eircuiiistances that we reah/e hut a small fraction of the 
 l•i^sk involved. an<l, only mildly admonished, we are en- 
 abled to appear (piite inditierent ; or we may on occasions 
 of a senseless fright swell with tlie hravado of a falso 
 alarm, and humoring the solicitude of others to the full 
 extent, appreciate the <!anger ourselves only so far 
 as to appear comfortably heroic; and this, I believe, 
 is the commonest an«l, 1 have no <l()ubt, the most 
 poi)ular test of bravery. I do not flatter myself in 
 saying I ha<l always, up to the time I speak of, enjoyed 
 a full gift of nerve necessary to sustain me unflinchingly 
 in the ordeal of the somewhat hackneyed hut still nuich 
 applauded "hair-breadth escape," and on the strength 
 oi this reputation 1 am embohlened to a init, frankly, that 
 when under fire for the flrsttime,lying supinely on the ground 
 supporting that battery of ours, I was the prey of very grave 
 and troubled tlioughts. To be so near the belching mouths 
 of the enemy's cannon, as almost to feel the scorching 
 tire singe my hair, brought me in rather unhappy com- 
 munion with the spirit world, and instead of all the con- 
 vivial pleasantry of habitual companionship there seemed 
 surrounding those ponderous globes, as they sped shriek- 
 ing and spluttering on their death errand, a shadowy 
 group, which fancy clothed in all the uncongenial para- 
 phernalia appropiate to the occasion. It was playing foot- 
 ball with devils (that is what it seemed like to me), and 
 
 I 
 
132 
 
 HKVKHIFX OF AN OLD hMOKF.R. 
 
 on tho very brink <»f that futhoniless abyss wIiohc lM)ttoni 
 is an internal niystoiy ' 1 only <)9iiw it niiMIy when I 
 Kay in my first buttle I was wantinj^ in th(> enthusiasm 
 necessary to make my sliare in the sport a success. Thc're 
 were certain restraining inHuenccs that kept nic, nnich 
 against my inclination, tolerably Hnn at my post, or I am 
 sure 1 could have run away — gone back ingloriously t«) 
 the roar — anywlwre, in fact, to get out of tlie way of that 
 "iron hail." Such a retreat, then, in<lee<l, seemetl eml>el- 
 lished with alltliose inettable charms incident to existence, 
 and I felt I could have reposed in such a goal, fully re- 
 warded for the absence of the bh)od stained laurels of war 
 in the undisturbed enjoyment of those other dearer em- 
 blems of peace ! 
 
 Thus it is in imminent personal peril we realize most 
 vividly that the (ji'dtuhst poHtt'ion in (jlort/ is a little kiinj- 
 dom ivJiose monarch is JJeath ! itnd the meanest refuge in 
 security a gorgeous World, whose sovereign is Life ! ! 
 
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OUANITK AND ASKKS, 
 
 (»U flLKANINtJS FROM TIIK SKIM'LUIIUI-^S f)K CJIIKAT KNdl.lSlI 
 
 SToUY-TKIJ.KItS. 
 
 I. 
 
 IT was once my ^ood fortune, to sojourn a sliort time in 
 the South of Ireland. In tlie midst of tluit charm- 
 inj^ scenery which has j^iven to Erin the characteri.stic 
 title of Emerald arc end)osomed those fairy lakes of 
 Killarney. As I sat musing by the sliore, one l>eautifid 
 moonlit evenin|^, there came stealing over the lily-capped 
 waters that exquisite strain of melody from Balfe, — " Then 
 You'll Remend>er M(^" I t^ok the music somewhat t<5 
 heart, and the turn then and there given to a train of 
 naturally sentimental reflection, gave rise to this essay. 
 
 In our twilight communings with the spirit, there comes 
 up at times a mute but pathetic appeal from the "Hesh," 
 and tlie «piery, how shall we I>e remembered, how soon 
 forgotten, finds its expression and answer in a sigh ; the 
 though itself is one shade nearer the nightfall, and ob- 
 tiuding its sond>re visage like a spectre, cjists a shadowover 
 the gladness of life's earlier, brighter dreau). 'Tis then 
 we shrink from the contemplation of our phantom future, 
 
13G 
 
 RKVEIUES OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 I '< 
 
 III 
 
 and turning to tlie more gonial and iiiHtructive survey of 
 others, and wliat they have done to he remembered, wo 
 regard with eager interest the impress thoy liave left of 
 earthly ties. 
 
 These reflections, commingling with kindred observa- 
 tions, have led to thofollowing imperfect sketch and to sucli 
 a grouping of ideas j^s were suggostcil by the refrain of 
 that sweet old song, and by the conjunction of two sig- 
 nificant words — Granite and Ashes. 
 
 There is about that cruel word oblivion, an import .'o 
 dreadful, that, although we do not realize it, the very 
 thought of it may well make the alnxle of the danuiod, 
 seem, in contradistinction, an asylum if not so agi'eeable and 
 satisfying as the poet's dream of Paradise, at lea;:>t a most ac- 
 ceptable substitute; and even a condition of pain hereaftoi-, 
 notwithstanding all that is said against it, might then 
 a{)poar an ox(piisite and grateful relief taken in connec- 
 tion with the boon of restore<l life, without which we 
 could not sufier ; and tenacious as we are of existence, 
 such an issue of .all our hopes and prayers, untoward as 
 it may seem, may, nevertheless, gladden out hearts, ns 
 when some loved one, crushed and maimed, is arous( d 
 from a death-like insensibility, and opens his eyes ai;d 
 moans. 
 
 As in our thoughts of aftor-life, so in this do the humble 
 as well as the great naturally aspire to oppose as much 
 as possible such an all-devouring blight as would lap up 
 and swallow every trace of their bodily existence; and in 
 this trying emergency we are indebted to the handicraft 
 
fJRANtTK ANT) ASHKS. 
 
 137 
 
 of two roprosontative fellow-beings, both of whom co- 
 operate in succouiing wluit would otlierwise perish for- 
 ever away — I refer to the conservatism of Art, as demon- 
 strated in the sublime labors of two of Nature's gi-eatest 
 admirers, and man's most earnest workers — the juiliiter 
 and the 8culj>tor. We point to a portrait by Vandyke, 
 and the form and features of Charles T., who has heen 
 dead over two hundred years, look down \ipon us in 
 the fresh prime of life and in the lusty zenith of liKs ro- 
 bust health and manly beauty ! So, too, in the lapso of 
 three centennials from to-day, as the posterity of the 
 patriots of Bunker Hill gather together on Boston Com- 
 mon, to celebrate the birtli of liberty on the American 
 continent, they will look upon a life-like statue in their 
 inidst, and hail in pride and admiraticm the imperishable 
 imaire of Washinjjton. 
 
 The products of great masters in Art, these likenesses 
 may have cost nmch of the nation's treasure to secure ; but 
 in tlie case of the "sovereign" George, as we, the loving 
 children of the " father of his country," take the true 
 impress of his noble lineaments to our hearts, who can 
 find it in his n)ind to say, the price was too high ; and 
 as for the monarch Charles, what a puny recompense in 
 exchange for even this species of perpetuated mortality, 
 the fleeting trinket of royalty, — the dissolving bagatelle 
 of kingdom. ^; l. 
 
 While we may not all have nor expect a splendid 
 memorial, — which, as a work of art, may survive to the 
 latest generations, — nevertheless, though shorn of all the 
 
 -i 
 
III 
 
 138 
 
 REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 I 
 
 n 
 
 m 
 
 1 ' 
 
 1 
 
 ;i: 
 
 ■ 
 
 1' ^ 
 
 ■M 
 
 l:r 
 
 costly splendor that enriches the more princely mauso- 
 leum, ther" is a cjuality inherent in the record of the 
 simplest .ife, and commingling- with tli<' humblest dust, 
 even sublimer and more effective ; — it Is that element of 
 memory which, clingin*,' to dee<ls, sutfiees in the pro- 
 longation of existence to enable one's virtues to outlive 
 liis faults. 
 
 To " let the dead bury their dead" was all very well in 
 primitive times and in the days of lepros}-, when to bury a 
 man out of sight, to forgive him for ha.ving lived, and to for- 
 get him was the last best service the living could perform ; 
 but it seems to me, things have changed somewhat since 
 such an interpretation of that injunction obtained. There 
 are many, and among them our best men, who require to 
 be long dead to be known and appreciated. — Moreover, 
 for centuries, Enterprise has identified those rare intellects 
 so closely with Progress, that the short time allotted our 
 great men to live amongst us is found too short, an<l the 
 influence they may still exert, too powerful and abiding, 
 to " let the dciad bury their dead" — so we hand down their 
 effigy and their example from generation to generation. 
 
 While the masses, and among them many good men, 
 seem destined to sink from obscurity into oblivion, others 
 there are who never die, and in this sense are never buried ; 
 they {ire become identified, it may be, with some project, 
 the grave seems but one stage of the work, and death, in 
 its application, like sleep, only to supply a defect in our 
 organization requiring rest; that is all, — and after the pause 
 twixt sunset and sunrise, the work goes on with the same 
 
GRANITE AND ASHES. 
 
 139 
 
 inaHtcr ininds seemingly alive and animating. Thus great 
 and needful undertakings are carried on over a space of 
 successive lives to completion ; consecutive generations, 
 in the spirit, have hold of the rope like sailora, — with hero 
 and there a voice, a living voice, to give the word — and 
 they pull, those phantoms, and heave together till the sails, 
 catching and filling with the cumulative impulse of the 
 wafting breeze, the great social ship of human affairs, 
 cleaves onward ! 
 
 Here, we may observe, in qualification of the above, 
 there is a certain conceit strutting abroad, and ap- 
 propriating much of the credit that ought to be shared 
 in common with those who are no more. This age, 
 particularly in the new world, is become egotistical 
 in the extreme, and it is simply erroneous to attribute 
 to it, alone, the advancement we see at this time. The 
 works, or at least the principles upon which they were 
 wrought, were planned and put in operation long before 
 the unfurling of our " starry banner," — long, indeed, before 
 the "Jack" of England had suggested the economy of union, 
 — aye, when the seed of our national greatness was in em- 
 hryo, and when the great-great grandfather of our Frank- 
 lin was a skittish boy, the philosophy«of our republican 
 institutions had been chewing its cud for over two thou- 
 sand years, and in moral and political isolation «and dis- 
 use, had grown old, and stale, and obsolete. 
 
 II. ' ^:-:--^— •---■' 
 
 The case of our grand Republic, in the above connec- 
 tion, reminds one of the apprentice who, stealing the ideas 
 
 -If 
 
 T?1 
 
t; 
 
 !■ ; 
 
 
 uo 
 
 IIKVKIUES OF AN OLD SMOKEll. 
 
 and (le.signs of the master, and absconding, sets up shop 
 on his own account, ignoring altogc^tlier the old firm, and 
 the tuttdago of generations ac([uired in motlier land. In 
 this manner there is engendered a feeling of contempt 
 for the past, its wisdom an<l counsels, such as one gets to 
 feel for preceptors an«l old men. VW' may notice fur- 
 ther, that among communities and nations, there is 
 a tendency as strong as human selHshness, not simply to 
 utilize results, but to claim at the same time a monopoly 
 of the credit in the means by which these rcvsults have 
 been obtained; of course, in the same ratio as we belittle th«' 
 achievements of those who are gone by, do we aggi'andize 
 our own efforts; and thus, is the principal glory and 
 applause, appropriated and enjoyed by modern apostles 
 and contemporaries. 
 
 The history of invention and improvement, not only 
 in mechanical industry, but also in state policy, is pro- 
 lific in trial and persecution, — in obloquy and repudi- 
 ation, — toward the early pioneers of modeun triumph ; 
 and with no feeling of sympathy, and still less esteem 
 and gratitude for those noble hearts and great in- 
 tellects, that, in a long weary struggle expired on the 
 threshold and in the very shock and awe of prodigious 
 discovery, — we eulogize and aggrandize those who, in the 
 robust impetuosity of juniois, come bustling later in upon 
 the scene. And so, in the predisposition to patronize what 
 is contemporary, the productions of our generation, like 
 fruits in season, commend themselves in preference to 
 what we are most prone to regard as the fossil deposits 
 
GRANITE AND ASHES. 
 
 141 
 
 of anticjuity. Hence, I reiterate, that notwithstanding 
 an affected admiration for " old nianters," the tendency, 
 as I have noticed, h strongly to iujnore, if not to ohltMjuize 
 men who lived lonix a<'o, and whose works are remem- 
 hered only to be contrasted with tlie so-called superior 
 attainments of our day. In some respects, this dis- 
 crepancy may Ik> justified. If we take, for example, 
 Literature, — that nn<,dity medium tlirough which we are 
 t'uabled to communicate with the dead world, and to ol - 
 tain, as we think, a correct knowledge of the past — hen*, 
 tlie ont</ron'fh, not so much of ideas and t)rinciple.s as 
 of their (.rpyesstoD^iiud the peculiar maniiol* of tlujir con- 
 veyance, necessitates, for the convenience of our under- 
 standing, new works. It must be admitted that no- 
 thing in the light of wisdom can be, or has been, added 
 to the philosophy of Socrates, the logic of Aristotle, or 
 the metaphysics of Plato, to make them more com- 
 plete, but we have so far outlived their language an<l 
 times, that the subjects on which they treated in a 
 manner never since equalled, much less surpassed, have 
 afforded material to immortalize a host of successors, 
 who, had they lived in those olden times, had possibly 
 never been known, r v 
 
 It is not so nmch, indeed, the great flood of original 
 light shed in modern times, as the obscuration of old 
 ideas and expression through lapse of time ; and thus, 
 in the tendency of all records to outlive their true mean- 
 ing, it comes about, that in the more modern recast 
 of old time thought, " savants," (I mean by them, delvers 
 
142 
 
 REViailliS OF AN OLD SAlOKKU. 
 
 i > 
 
 i 
 
 ■ ' 
 
 into the murky mysteries of the recondite), and from 
 them that imposing plialanx of the mechanically ilhi- 
 niinpted, (I mean those tutored parrots we esteem as 
 our " e<hicate<i," our " professional," and our '* public 
 men"), are enabled to substitute themselves and take, 
 in a manner, undisputed precedence over their prede- 
 cessors, and in our better understanding^ of their fresh, 
 living phraseology we gratefully accord some of them, 
 at least, the partial virtue of " new-light." 
 
 Here, too, we may note in iK'half of the living, that 
 the virtues of a few of the defunct set have grown ab- 
 normally witti age, and through the medium of reite- 
 rated praise, have attained for imlividuals an atmos- 
 phere of glory, that owes much of its hallowed splendor 
 to a glamour of purely extraneous fancy. Then, it is the 
 n'unb as with which imagination encircles objects that are 
 too remote for " ocular demonstration." Practically, how- 
 ever, taking men of note in literature, standing succes- 
 sively each behind the other, and reaching from a late, 
 back into an early period, we tind those comparatively in 
 front, enjoy the largest patronage. But this, as we have 
 noted, is because there is hardly a train of thought, the 
 latest expression of which does not appeal the most 
 strongly to our sympathies ; and yet, the great wealth of 
 wisdom on which they draw, is the brains of past genera- 
 tions — and a comparison of epochs, and a glance into the 
 great silent world of the obsolete, reveal the fact that 
 the literary spawn of the nineteenth century, like the 
 designs of that prolific goddess Fashion, — and the plethora 
 
OKANITE AND ASHI-IS. 
 
 143 
 
 of books strivin*^ to keep pace with the newspapers, ami 
 shed with tlie fecundity of Hy-blows on raw meat, are, 
 for the most part, ordy a clever modification of old ideas 
 recut, and turned, and dressed up to suit new an<l later 
 styles of thou^'ht and expression. And to the commendable 
 L'rtbrts which have been made to simply emancipate some 
 of tliese from antiquated prejudice, and to the compara- 
 tively humiliating process of remodelling' others, do many 
 of our " distin<^niis]»ed men of letters," to-day, owe their 
 envied and much lauded reputations. And the ignorant 
 and thoughtless call these men great, and the age in 
 which they live mighty, and bow down and worshi[) 
 them; but, however nnich aptitude and Dven talent, wo 
 may see displayed, it is, after all, in its most ancient and. 
 honorable aspect, only such astnte old politicians as 
 Lycurgus, and Solon, transmitting with the stamp of 
 their individuality tlie lessons of still earlier civiliza- 
 tions, — and later, true to the classic exam[)le of Xenophon 
 fathering the scriptless wisdoiu of Socrates, we have 
 tlie venerable More, manufacturing " Utopia" out of 
 the "Republic" of Plato, — Chaucer revelling in the alien 
 wealth of Boccaccio, — Spenser blowing the sparks that 
 light his imagery from the ashes of Ariosto, — Luther ful- 
 minating the train laid by Wyclitle, — aye, and V^espueius 
 filching immortality from the story of Columbus ! ! 
 
 In this manner do the works if not the teaching's of 
 the old set become, at least so far as the generality of 
 people are concerned, obsolete, obliterated, forgotten, — 
 the palm of originality is passed along and enjoyed as 
 
144 
 
 KEVERIKS OF AN OLD SMOKKU. 
 
 I* 
 
 spolla opima of lator ♦^n-nemtions of men, an<l li^'nce it is 
 HO many of our <,nanite memorials apply only to present 
 times, new mem, nnd fresh triumphs. 
 
 The reason for the order of merit being in a man- 
 ner successive and largely exclusive, is in the out- 
 growth before mentioned ; and this is regulated, not 
 merely by fancy, but by the itnmutable law of change. 
 Everything is in a state of restless, tireless transition.— 
 Words, idioms, vernaculars are changing, — an<l language, 
 in which is e!id)almed our knowledge of events and charac- 
 acter, in its variable meaninrjs and chameleon-like ways, 
 presjMits all the puzzling shifts of the kaleidosco]»e. 
 
 Impressions and chronicles of past occurrences, presented 
 and imbibed in our younger days as sober, historic fact, 
 we are assured by the same kind of unimpeachable autho- 
 rity, were but the offspring of fancy, a misrepresentation of 
 truth, and perniciously false. — Opinions that obtained a 
 century, a year, a month, an hour ago, are turned and 
 twisted out of all semblance to the original, and this even 
 on the very same statement of facts. — No two events ever 
 did or ever can occur under exactly the same conditions, 
 and those stereotyped fornmlas applicable to one case, can 
 only be approximately so to others, and are made available 
 by modification and change. — An outgrowth of fealty is 
 engendered, and insensibly but irresistibly we attorn from 
 the old seed to the new fruit; but so gradually does the 
 metamorphosis steal over us, we think we are cleaving to 
 the one when we are conceiving and maturing the other. 
 . — Much of what we wore wont to hold sacred, is become 
 
 5 f 
 
OHANtTE AND AHHES« 
 
 145 
 
 apocryphal and ahsurd, and forms onco reverenced with 
 jealous devotion, are come to be regarded only a.s custonts 
 or idle spectacles ; atid, as in the case of the early drama, 
 ceremonies, comniemonitive of reli^^dous events ami mado 
 the objects of pious observance, have de<^enerat«:d, — as did 
 the Saturnaliii of ancient, and 1 think I mav add also, a.s 
 has the Christmas of m<jdei-n times. — Enterprise, Ueform, 
 in all the sturdy gree<l of their lustful impulses, are oppo- 
 iiig Conservatism, demanding ehange, and in order to 
 build new structures, deplete old ones.— Progress, Utility 
 oppose duration, because improvement necessitates substi- 
 tution and involves annihilation ; a thing may be a wel- 
 come novelty to-(lay, and stand forth as the perfection of 
 a wonderful revelation, to-morrow, it is se*t aside for a 
 more acceptable substitute. Nay, however precious a 
 thing may be, so long as avarice is a ruling passion, the 
 lasting pro|»erties of any structure is measured in a great, 
 degree by the magnitude of the temptation to destroy 
 and is apportioned to the value of the material. — Nature 
 yields, but recuperates ; Art, however, in the monuments 
 of anticpiity, has so far succumbed to this tlaw in human 
 kind, that all Greece could do in that way to preserve, 
 availed naught, at least, when she left the impress of her 
 incomparable genius, on any substance more precious than 
 clay or stone. Our laws are changing, and the completest 
 code ever devised by the wisdom of man falls as far short 
 as did the triumphs of Justinian; and renewea legislation 
 becomes a constant want, an ever-appealing necessity.— 
 Our hearts, our loves are changing, and if not so ostensibl^i 
 
 J 
 
 -ni 
 
liO 
 
 KEVERItlS OF AS OLD SMOKKR. 
 
 ' 
 
 
 ■ T 
 
 I 
 
 t ■ 
 
 m 
 
 ■ r 
 
 1; 
 
 none the lesH Hurely, those granite harriers that ^'inl 
 our coasts, and witli whicli we seek to j>erpetuate our 
 memories, are dissolving, erumhling, changing. The idols 
 and temples, religions and creeds pertaining to our capri- 
 cious worship, form no exception to the omniscient rule ; 
 and the idea that those most invulnerahle hulwarks of* 
 faith, — tlu'Bihles of nations, — can remain any considerable 
 time \maltered and unrevised, is as impossible and un- 
 natural as for tlie rocks to resist the potent and salutary 
 influences by which we have acquired the fertile strata of 
 our soil and the means necessary to supply existence. 
 
 Though we may not preserve the past in all its living 
 integrity, we may now and then reflect sorrowfully, grate- 
 fully over the few disfigured landmarks of a once strug- 
 gling, loving, perishing people, — and as we call the roll of 
 honored dead, accord their heroes at least a portion of 
 that coveted tribute of remembrance, which we, in our 
 turn, Would fain solicit of posterity. 
 
 There is a potent spirit prevailing over the minds 
 of men ; all are the humble instruments of the All- 
 wise Designer of the universe, but in the progress of 
 the great work we call civilization, it has been (and 
 is) the good fortune of some to liave become indivi- 
 dually and conspicuously identified, and although it 
 may have been only in the beginning, they are not to 
 be despised because they labored without the easy sys- 
 tems, and ingenious appliances, that grace and propitiate 
 our efforts. So, Nuina, in establishing the religious and 
 civil laws of Rome, deserves an even greater glc y thanCon- 
 
GRANITE AM) ASIIFX* 
 
 147 
 
 Htantine, who inerel}" atKxcd his aii^^iist Higiuiture to the 
 remodelled works of his |)re<lecei*sors ; so, too, Artaxerxes 
 may claim, in the task of evanrroHcal rcfonn, a goodly 
 share witli Theodosids. Zoroaster with Confucius, and 
 Mahomet with Krasmus ; hut whih' no one of these may 
 claim at once, tlie hi;^'h distinction and exclusive credit, 
 of interpreting and executing the Divint^ will, neverthe- 
 less we may presume that each and all, together with the 
 humhlest of their followers, in their own time and way, 
 performed their allotted stint ; and could we read aright, 
 we should fiml the reconl of their faithful service on such 
 memorials as the Sanscrit, the Zenda- Vesta, the Talmud 
 the Koi-an. 
 
 III. 
 
 While the monuments of a nation'.s dead, may be re- 
 garded in some degree as an index to its glory, they are 
 not always a true exponent of merit, and rarely an exclu- 
 sive tribute to the man ; on the contraiy, it is, in the case of 
 many of our finest, a distinctive idea breathed through them 
 that is aggi-andized. Speaking as a cosmopolitan I may, 
 say: — there is in that towering shaft i eared toO'Connell, 
 a species of Hibernian spunk and a granite and enduring 
 defiance of England — it typifies the spirit of Irish intoler- 
 ance, rising in its power and majesty to repel British ag- 
 gression, — and yet every stone used in that magnificent 
 memorial might be engraved with a different name, and 
 then many a patriot leader treasured in the Irish heart, 
 but whose sentiments find significant expression in this 
 
 iiij 
 
 m 
 
 vu 
 
 -ill 
 
1 
 
 
 us 
 
 UKVBUIKS oK an old SMoKKn. 
 
 mlent bulwark , wouM be U;ft out. O'Conncll, ns u par- 
 tisan, iaonoi>olize.s tlie whole edifice, but mi a lunn, a 
 Hingle solitary l)riek wouM suttice. Journeying towani 
 the metropolis of England, looking towards liOixlon, on<> 
 sees through a vista of liaze and siiiioke the griui outline 
 of a giant form looming in tlic clouds ! Tis the hero of 
 the Nile ! But here again it is not Hritish love for Nel- 
 son,- he was not a man cither to love or to be loved, — it 
 is, rather, Britannia, claiming for England the empire of 
 the wave, — an<l Jiritish bulldogjsm, saying to the outer 
 world and to posterity,— RKM EM BKR TKAFAUUK: 
 
 English (conservatism may form a commenda}>le excep- 
 tion to the rule, but it 's sad to note in other countries that 
 even these granite columns are, after all, but the transient 
 commemoration of a Hckle triumph: indeed, mere per- 
 sonal renown althou'di identified with national airman- 
 dizcment, will not suffice to counteract the withering blast 
 with which Time and Passion sweep down as with the 
 " besom of destruction " our fairest Bab^ Ions. 
 
 In the rapid mu.ch of events, other Waterloos, other Tra- 
 falgars will be fought, and while new triumphs and new 
 defeats will change the whole order of hero-wo»*ship, those 
 names now blazoned over, like the "N " on the Louvre, with 
 a nation's pride, will be erased, despised,' forgotten, — or 
 survive, perchance, only in the musty records of faded 
 leaves. 
 
 After all, what is renown ? It is the accident of ability 
 and opportunity combining to make a man conspicuous for 
 the successful performance of some extraordinary under* 
 
iJRANITK AND ASHI-US. 
 
 149 
 
 takinjx, tti»<l tlmt n'jj^anlk-.ss of motive. \yv, I ut tlit' true 
 pvatiu'KH of iiiiy <l»'e(', ho far as i\w. author is coiicerne<l, is 
 the motive tlyit iiispiicMl it, .so far as the world in con- 
 c<'rne(1, however, it is only the advantage it confefH. In 
 the former case, of all actions, the nohlest are unselHsh 
 and disinterested, and they are the rarest and most ol»- 
 seiire — they may win friends, hut <lo not necessarily confer 
 either profit or distinction. Accordin^^ly, a man may Ik) 
 a profitless failure hefore all the world, and at the same 
 time po8se.ss a character and inanl)oo<l which, although 
 Hhut out from the laurel tield, would entitle him to the 
 hi«^hest rank in the uidionored le<(ion of nameless and un- 
 (h'corate<l heroes. It follows, the humhie may envy the 
 great, hut they nee<l not always feel humiliated in ohscu- 
 rity. So, too, amongst all the monuments of men, th(5 
 Hiniplcst are those of i\\w worth and affection, and they 
 are tlie deaivst an<l best. 
 
 In looking hack over the pa.st, we find the greatest 
 men have no monuments at all, and the landmarks 
 by which we trace their existence, are their works. 
 Some, indeed, have been denied even the menial rights 
 of decent burial, and have done without the temporal Ixxjii 
 of a grave ; but the atrocious meanness that would have 
 consigned their memory to oppnjbrium, has, nevertheless, 
 defeated its object. And here we are rennnde<l that the 
 most striking, if not the grandest memorial in England, is 
 a certain, simple tomb, situate in an obscure comer of ohl 
 Westminster : — there, in close proximity to the finest of 
 all the mausoleums of English kings, despoiled of its 
 
 r'i.. 
 
 
I'l 
 
 ! I 
 
 I 
 
 4' 
 
 ' 
 
 ^i! 
 
 
 - )] 
 
 i 
 
 A 
 
 iJi* 
 
 150 
 
 RFA'ERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 lunnan dust, ex}ii}>ite«l as a curiosity, the vacant sepulchre 
 of Oliver Cromwell remains a rej)roach to his countrymen ; 
 but as we regard the roughly tum])led e^rth whence a 
 regal envy extracted his mortal relics, we are reminded 
 of the apostroplu! wrung from the heart of a great Roman 
 general,* — " Ungrateful city, ye shall not even have my 
 ashes ! " 
 
 In proportion as a man's works contribute to the happi- 
 ness of a people is he likely to be remembered. O'Connell 
 may have done much to give tone and character to Iriyh 
 I)olitics, and if so, the world ought to feel thankful, and es- 
 pecially Ireland. We must all honor his patriotism, but if 
 we find it difiieult to see, individually, wherein this great 
 politician has contributed to our welfare, how much more 
 discouraging the effort to eke out comfort and felicity 
 from the smoke and carnage of Trafalgar or Balaklava — 
 ah, what a joyous ]>ie-nic ground in retrospect, the bloody 
 deck of the " Victory," or the gory trail of the doomed " six 
 hundred " ! Nay, I protest that is not the sort of faii^e 
 either to covet or endure — it is too sectional to last or to 
 merit approbation — it is the triumph of antagonism, that 
 savage exultation which makes aliens of countrymen — 
 that conflict amongst brothers which makes mothers 
 mourn and sisters weep ; it may win a throne, — 'tis a 
 joyless trophy, and the enjoyment, such as might be ex- 
 pected in the isolation of a splendid triumph wrought in 
 competition with mankind. 
 
 Scijjio Africanus, 
 
 I 
 
GRANITE AND ASHES. 
 
 lol 
 
 There is no satisfaction in the contemplation of life, 
 or after-life, from those dixzy heights to which popular cla- 
 mor has raised,i7i memorunn, the eftigies of men, — elevate 1 
 as they have been, more in the lust of party aggrandizement, 
 than as a personal tribute of love or respect. There is no 
 kindliness, no tender sentiment, commemorated ; and one 
 feels a relief in getting down from those snow-clad sum- 
 mits where the eagles perch, to the sweet smellir aks 
 of the violet and the cuckoo. Aye, how much mc e g^t \ial 
 those grassy glades of Stoke,— the grazing herds, — and 
 that humble mound beneath " that yew tree's shade," — • 
 cherished memorials of the "Elegy " and of Gray. 
 
 There are works boundless in their humanity as love, 
 ever-green in their beauty a« affection, and precious in 
 our need as the happiness they inspire ; there is a sub- 
 limity in the attainment of such results, — they shall not 
 perish, we cherish them, and the author lives amongst 
 us, and with our children, and remains for ever the friend 
 and brother of mankind ! 
 
 Dearer to us and to Ireland, is her Tom Moore, who 
 gave to the world those triumphs of pathos which touched 
 a chord that shall vibrate for all time, in every land, in 
 every heart ! Worthy compeer of Shakespeare, and Han- 
 del, and Burns, and Byron, I greet thee in the names of 
 millions who would do thee homage ! Such men are not 
 the mere chieftains and champions of a division, or sect, — 
 their language, their deeds, inspire naught but the kindli- 
 
 
 n 
 
 '■'.m 
 
 "Mi 
 
 ■f 
 
I^ 
 
 i' 
 
 H 
 
 
 K 
 
 a "< 
 
 M 
 
 fi' 
 
 li 
 
 ui 
 
 Hi 
 
 152 
 
 HKVEniES OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 est emotionH, which, under the potent spell of melody, 
 pioclaini a welcome truce to discord, ami bring all within 
 the great universal brotherhood of mutual dependence 
 and sympathy. 
 
 Regarding the labours of these men, we may re- 
 mark, — there nnist be a great deal that is fictitious in 
 Romance and Poetry, but while they people our minds 
 with the names of many who never lived, and whose 
 adventures and troubles are purely imaginary, yet they 
 are not all false, and to be condemned for all that. They 
 are fictitious, in the main, only in proportionas they are not 
 in accord with sucli vicissitudes as would be possible to hap • 
 })en us if similarly situated. Many things about them aie 
 liighly idealized, no doubt,may be extravagantly so,butthey 
 are all the more charniing an<l interesting as a welcome and 
 instructive diversion, and quite as rational, too, at least, 
 many of them, as that confidence in perfect love or 
 friendship, which, though it may not exist in all the rigid 
 exactness of a demonstration, and fact, an<l proof, might 
 undeceive us, still it gives us pleasure, and we feel bet- 
 ter to cling to the delusion, while the truth would make 
 us miserable. 80 like words in song, they blend with the 
 nmsic of our better thoughts, and harmonize our impulses. 
 
 Ah, who could find it in his heart to say, 1 would I had 
 never read "Tales of a Cir rand father," the *' Vicar of Wake- 
 field," or the "Arabian Nights." But it is said that they unfit 
 ns for the sterner realities of life, — well, when these reali- 
 ties oppress us, as they are sure to do, do not these old 
 friends solace us ? They may not exalt, although I think 
 
GRANITE AND ASH1<:S. 
 
 153 
 
 they do, still how gently, how cheerily, do we welcome 
 them Iti our restful hours, and with what gratofiil fancies, 
 and even softer minstrelsy, do they accompany us down 
 into the " valley and shadow." Surrounded as we are by 
 so much outside afl'cctation and deceit, where shall we find 
 a truer or more natural impulsi' than that which claims 
 j^enial fellowship with " Tarn o' Shanter," " Robinsim Cru- 
 soe," or"KipVanWiiikle." Andthe minds and hearts whose 
 creative power they are the offspring, how kindly, how 
 lovingly we have thought of them ; how many specta- 
 cled men of science, ifideed, and blue-visaged historians 
 must it take to rival, in our young hearts, just one name 
 — Defoe — or that other nameless one who tells with such 
 pathetic humor the story of Sinbad. 
 
 V. 
 
 >-■ \^ry 
 
 Nay, then, are the shrines of some of these old com- 
 ])anions worthy a pilgrimage ? In the course of a some- 
 what wandering and not uneventful career, I have come 
 across the marble and ashes of a goodly number of these 
 men, and the interest with which I have always regarde*! 
 them, has in no stinted measure recompensed me for the 
 privation and sacrifice which the old adage visits with 
 such exceptionless rigor on the " rolling stone." 
 
 In exploringthe remarkable burial-places of the old world, 
 and especially those of our English fatherland, we are led 
 thither by that peculiar charm inspired in our reading of 
 the careers of great men, — warriors, statesmen, and authors, 
 of whom we have heard and thought so much, — heroes all, 
 
 5 M » 
 
 TSM 
 
 ...I 
 
154 
 
 REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 ' 'n 
 
 mm ' 
 
 i! 
 
 fl 1 1 
 
 
 whose story has excited our admiration, sympathy, and in- 
 terest, and whose lives history, biography, and romance, 
 have made us feel as familiar with as if we had lived in 
 their day, known them personally and enjoyed in their 
 society the rare ])rivilege of intimate companionship. 
 It is not mere idle curiosity, then, that impels us forward 
 almost reluctantly, as it were, in the solemn quest of their 
 last earthly resting-place; nay, it may be the only tangible 
 relic of an existence endeared to us by the benefit and 
 happiness its works have conferred, and the feeling with 
 which we would regard the hallowed precinct, partakes 
 rather of that kindliness and emotion which is stirred up 
 only in the recollection of things we have loved. 
 
 It must be confessed, however, in the commemoration 
 of those, or many of them, who have planted amongst us 
 the genns of so prolific a harvest of moral and intellec- 
 tual enjoyment, ashes which should have beon garnered up 
 and treasured in proud and grateful remembrance, seem, on 
 the contrary, not only miserably neglected, but, in many 
 cases, altogether abandoned ; and if we follow the trail of 
 the most illustroius foot-piints, we find, not un frequently, 
 they lead out of the broad, splendid avenues of life, of for- 
 tune, and of fame, to terminate in the gloomy, dreary laby- 
 rinths of death and deprivation, where we behold, hidden 
 away in tangled weed and wild-wood, the poor, discarded 
 rubbish of our once choicest mortality ! 
 
 This would seem a dreadful shame, and may be it is, but 
 there is a peculiar significance even in the all too appar- 
 ent absence of any effort to hedge them in and nationalize 
 
GRANITE AND ASHES. 
 
 15.") 
 
 tluMii ; indeed, tlie fact conveys of itself a tribute which 
 l.t'speaks, not merely a nation's pride of relationship, but 
 what is better, — it implies a kinship to the world, and such 
 a brotherhood with all mankind as to preclude, as belittling, 
 all exclusive national control or distinction. The obli«,'a- 
 tion entailed, we tacitly feel, rests alike upon the whole 
 race of man, and the absence of all local signs of sepul- 
 chral aggrandizement, only indicates that what is nobijdy's 
 work in particular, is all the world's, and what all the 
 world may not perform is left undone. 
 
 If you will imagine yourself in England, for a. short 
 time, I will take you to see for yourself; and making 
 London the starting point, some of ,the objects we have 
 been speaking about may be found within the reach of an 
 easy stroll. But whither away ? Well, it is not to that 
 magnificent cenotaph in Hyde Park, I would lead you, — 
 that is not a monument in the sense I mean, but rather a 
 • luestionable work of art, reared in family })ride and connui- 
 bial affliction, and dedicated in ineniorima, to a prince 
 whose quiet virtues and unobtrusive accomplishments, it 
 uut-dazzles and obscures, — leaving, indeed, the artist the 
 greater hero of the two. 
 
 In passing this tribute of royalty, however, I am re- 
 minded by the contrast, of one less princely I saw at 
 Melrose, in Scotland. In the ruins of the divine old 
 abbey there, one sees a bit of earth that may once have 
 been a mound, but now it is settled down aud is hardly 
 distinguishable from the ground around. I do not know 
 what there can be to keej) us froin walking right over it, 
 
 
 " '*, 
 
 ^ 
 
156 
 
 RKVfcRIES OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 but some way we do hesitate to plant our foot on that 
 particular spot, ami at a second glance we notice a plain, 
 pine stick with a piece across, together, not much larger 
 than, nor unlike the symbol worn at the girdle of a 
 monkish devotee ; but what is that bit <»f writing, — is it 
 worth while looking i We stoop down in the impulse of 
 careless curiosity, and give a great start, — then look again 
 rnon; eagerly and closely to make sure, and feel a thrill as 
 if the iron gauntlet of a Plantagenet, or a Wallace, liad 
 been laid upon our shoulder — would 3'ou wonder, for there 
 we read—*' Here Lies the Heart of Bruce!" 
 
 VI. 
 
 In an expedition like that we propose, one cannot hel[> 
 inclining towards Westminster Abbe}'^, andnov/,the temp- 
 tation is strong, to make this our destination; we shall at 
 least pass through, as it is directly on our way, and there, 
 moving reverently along the dim aisle leading past that 
 magnetic cornerconsecrated to the Poets, we pause a moment 
 to look wistfully at a few well-remend)ered faces. — All, 
 they almost incline us to curtail our walk, and one fain 
 would sidle off on the sly and abandon the ])roject of going 
 further. Many is the time before this, I have lingered 
 there, and as I've looked around on that silent company 
 of the world's and my precious idols, it has ever been with 
 hopeless longing, yet yearning desire that I might recall 
 the life, and breath, and smile, to those marble effigies, 
 and, claiming the privilege of membership in the great 
 common brotherhood of man, embrace them in the flesh ! 
 
OKANITE AND ASHCS. 
 
 15: 
 
 These fellows take one's heart away, — and how can wo 
 cany a sinj^le tribute of our puny store pjist them. — 
 Wordsworth, Pope, Young, Southey, and a liost of 
 others ! They cannot speak, and yet each recalls some 
 ])athetic line, some verse, or thou^'ht, that at some time 
 lias <^iv'jn expression to feelinfrs that even we had no 
 laii<j^ua^'e to utter ; but verily we feel we shall get melan- 
 choly if we stay much longer, a!id suppressing a sigli, we, 
 in the effort to rally our (hooping spirits, aie almost dis- 
 ]t(>sed to play a joke on Shrridan, - pounce upon him and 
 <lun him for a little bill, but are diverted by a glance at 
 the benign features of " Oh rare Ben. Jons«>n, " and afraid 
 to trust ourselves further, l)reak from the spot and hurry 
 on our way. 
 
 Suffice it then for tlie abbey, on this occrasion to a<ld : — - 
 as we cast a p.arting glance over its mural wealth of 
 kingly entablature so grandl}' arrayed, there seems about 
 it all a sj)ecies of knighthood, that makes this superb 
 congregation of voiceless, lifeless nobility, appear a veri- 
 tal)le House of Lords, — a Peerage, to which a sover- 
 eign intellect raises the great commoner after death. 
 Great men and good we find here, and they seem in their 
 proper place — a nation's pride can do no more; but it is not 
 here lies the object of our quest — it is all too grand, 
 tlie atmosphen; too courtly, and the frigid air too much 
 like the liigh latitudes of Phu'uix Park, and Trafalgar 
 Square. 
 
 VII. , ■; '■- 
 
 Taking the direction past Whitehall, we soon find our- 
 selves in the Strand, and later leave any of the incensQ 
 
ji 
 
 4 i 
 
 ! 6 -.if! 
 
 158 
 
 llEVEKIES OF AN <iLD SMoKEtt. 
 
 of the ab}x»y that may yet cling alnjut us, in the still more 
 odorous regions of Long Acre, nnd High Holborn. 
 
 Yet stay ! we are forgetting an old friend — we must not 
 slight /lim, so we get back into the Strand, again, by way 
 of Drury I^ane, and proceed along to Temple Bar. Here 
 we turn down a narrow alley to the right, where we find 
 all at once, like AH Baba, we have plumped almost invo- 
 luntarily, not into a den of thieves, but into a hardly 
 less sinister looking locality, whose shabby antiijuatcd 
 rookeries, intersected in all directions by stealthy, hid**- 
 and-seek [)assages, are known to the initiated as tlie old 
 English " Inns of Court." This place may be regarded 
 as John Bull's anticjue conception of a judicial para- 
 dise. But what is there pertaining to our project to inter- 
 est us here ? it does lo<jk more like the tomb, than the cradle, 
 of English Common Law, really, and here probably lies, 
 pigeon-holed, centuries of mouldering material for a res- 
 urrection in Chancery. But stop ! <lo you see that gray old 
 edifice,round like a cheese box (* that is tlie "Temple," — it is 
 famous as an ecclesiastical resort in the time of the Crusa- 
 ders, and people attend there now, on Sabbath days, to wor- 
 ship its antiquity, but it is not to that I wish to call your 
 attention — look closely over there to the left into that 
 opening between the walls, — do you not see a plain rough 
 st(me, raised a little above the other flag/5, but with no 
 other protection from the hurry and scurry of busy feet ? 
 That, my friend, is a grave and within it lies all that 
 remains of a Prince of English literature, — the author of 
 The Vicar of Wakefield." * 
 
 * Oliver Goldsmith. 
 
ORANITK AND ASHKS. 
 
 159 
 
 It would seem as if the oKl iimii lm»l »,'one to the cliurch 
 with a half yearning dcHire to go in, hut had paused just 
 outside and hesitated as if in childish perplexity to think 
 it over, — then, reclining his fecMe old frame t<j rest a bit, 
 was soon lying ]»rone, — and soothe«l, j)erchance hy some 
 soft strain from the choir within, a grateful drowse had 
 stolen over his harasse<l spirit an<l he slept ! 
 
 One fain would think it was rather a feeling of rever- 
 ence and tenderness not to disturb the ohi man that tliey 
 let him lie just where he was. — Ah, we reHect sorrowfully 
 over the maijnificent intellect extiniruisluMl there and of 
 that still greater heart — always oscillating, yet ever true 
 as the pendulum, — loving all the worM, yet forgetting to 
 care fur self — at once the most useful and noblest of men, 
 and the least frugal and most worthless of vagabonds — 
 prodigal in giving pleasure, and yet denied one happy hour ! 
 As we turn from the spot, would that the slab and sod that 
 cover him now, were changed for a mantle which like our 
 memory of him might be as the grassy verdure of never 
 failing gi-een — not forgetting a sprinkling of violets, and 
 daisies, and loving hands to tuck him in. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 It is not without reluctance after all, we leave the Tem- 
 ple and its vicinity, replete as they are with interesting 
 reminiscences ; but we have a pretty long walk before us, 
 so turning away we retrace our steps in tlie direction of 
 High Holborn. In the interval of meditation, our thoughts 
 ily back again towards the abbey to mark a contrast, but 
 
 Mi. 
 
 J , 
 
 f r CI 
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 Hi 
 
 i 
 
IGO 
 
 UEVEUIES OK AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 
 -S 
 
 our destination is another part of London — not the su- 
 perb (juarter, basking in the opuk'nt sj)l»'nd<»r of loyal 
 patronage, hedged roun<l by cbic-d niunsions, si i(( ly par- 
 liaments, regal palaci's, -but a !nean, sluibi»y, filthy part, 
 so easy to Hn<l and so hanl to Ios»> as some of tin* infcrito' 
 localities of London are, where instead of the othor ac- 
 cessories of grandeur, we find breweries, woap fa( torics 
 and smoking furnaces, all betokening the sweat and toil 
 of active physical industry. 
 
 It is in such a vicinity, we next find ourselves trudging 
 along a not very inviting tboionghfan* called "City lioad." 
 That name soun<ls rural-like, as in the ea^e of St. (iiles 
 Fields, luit it is deceptive, like the " Heathen ( Innee," ami 
 odors, that powerful' v remind one of the absence of clover 
 fields, offend the nowtrils at every step, and the eye appeals 
 wistfully, yet ho)>elessly. to tliose begrimed, unwelcoming 
 walls, those close packed dwellings ind slimy pavements. 
 It is not so bad as \Va|)ping, but one must needs be a re- 
 sident to distinguish the difference ; however, it is a satis- 
 faction to perceive from the surroundings we are near the 
 end of our journey. 
 
 London, is an exception, as regards the monotony one 
 would otheiwise feel in wanderiui": through those end- 
 less, narrow grooves called streets; and the more w^e 
 know of its dingy habitations, the more agreeably are we 
 impressed with the fact that nearly every one of them has 
 a history, or story, connected with it, really worthy of 
 record ; many of these being intimately associated with 
 persons and events that have played an i'liportant part 
 
taiANti'K AND XSUKS. 
 
 1(U 
 
 on the worM'.s gi at sbi^^u, and lent to the innM>sin«»(lmnia 
 of the pjist, its (lelicioUMfiind of inexpUoahlf niyHtei y and 
 tra^'ic interest. An instance could be cited of this or that 
 place, which we have already pa.ssed on our way hither, that 
 wouM \Hi as entertaining ;in<l instructive, perhaps, as c( dd 
 \\€> f( ind in any simil.ir field of exploration ; indeed, place's 
 you would ignorantly go by without noticing,you would, if 
 you onlyknew, retraceyoui- steps furmiles. to c<itch another 
 glimpse of ; the one? to wliich we arc bound, bring, in its 
 way, a fair illustration of this, ^ 
 
 But here we are at our d^^stinafion. A sr)mbre, vacant 
 space two or tlirec acres in extent, meets the eye on the 
 left ; an uninviting looking spot it is, too, jagged over 
 with rough, stone slabs packed close together — all old 
 and out of fashion but still on duty, holding with sturdy 
 rigidity their several lines of demarcation. Some, we ob- 
 serve, are thickly covered with tiny patches of a greyish 
 shell-like appearance, tha seem with a sort of tenacious 
 energy to attach theraselvc- to whatever cannot readily 
 be devoure<l — they are the barnacles of time, that feast in 
 death and fat on dissolution ! 
 
 I am afraid you w^ill be disappointed, after all, in the 
 place to which I've brought you, and I may find it ditti- 
 cult to satisfy you for coming so far ; indeed, I am almost 
 afraid to tell you that that old Cemetery is Bunhill 
 Fields, in the anxiety whetlier you may not feel, after all, 
 sorry you came ; but you must be indulgent, and bear in 
 mind our expedition is not altogether the sort of stroll 
 we take when we arc in for a " lark." 
 K 
 
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 ;|(t 
 
 \n 
 
162 
 
 RKVKRIKS OF AN OLD SMOKKIt 
 
 I 
 
 VI 
 
 Ah, but what of Bunhill FieMM, you say, with an air of 
 distrust that makes ine ahnost wihIi wc had stayed in the 
 AblKjy. Well, the people livinj( roiind alK)nt this dreadfully 
 decrepid and evidently long disused old receptacle, no douht 
 regard it as a plague spot, and smart under a consciousness 
 of being, thereby, misrepresented if not maligned. 1 feel 
 sorry for them ; but it is possible they are too high-toned, 
 ami that the soap factories, and distilleries, al>ounding in 
 tliis ncighlxmrhood, have had rather too much of a 
 purifying and refining iiiHuence. They want Westminster 
 Abbey, up here, and some of the worthies who have taken 
 an indefinite lease of the "Poets' Comer;" they covet 
 an item of tlie ashes of <lefunct royalty, — a monarch or so, 
 with say a sprinkling of the hallowed dust of smothered 
 princelings, — a Guelph would do, although the}' would 
 prefer an older pedigree. The Fates, however, are inexor- 
 able, so they have to bear with what they have ; and poor 
 old Bunhill Fields, where the mortality of London went, 
 for centuries, to scrape its feet, must suffice. 
 
 Here lie the excommunicated and voluntary exiles of 
 the Romish and English churches, — here, covered with 
 wounds, the veterans of religious strife, have dragged their 
 weary frames to lay their bones in peace ; and with theni, 
 too, no doubt many of the ragged-band that followed 
 them, — the " lame, and halt, and blind," the " moral leper," 
 and all the conscience-stricken ritt-rafF that required to 
 be spoken to as " Man never spake before/' 
 
 We enter and look about us. Not far from the entrance 
 is the tomb of Isaac Watts, and around him are clustered 
 
(mANITK AN II AKIIRS. 
 
 i(ia 
 
 A giKMlly army otMissciitiii^ {>i'uudiui>i ; nil in luvoiil now, 
 it is hoped, like the pious ditties of their chief. Quaint 
 inHCriptions and sepulchral oddities, may U> seen all 
 Ai ound ; hut theit; is a dread alK>ut this sortoot* thing, 
 and as we pick our way anujngst them, we frel a gKs)m 
 that even the bright sun beaming down, does not with all 
 its cheering intluence seem readily to dispol, 
 
 IX. " • 
 
 . , ■ , 'I 
 But " whose monument is that," you ask curiously, "so 
 UKMlern and fresli-looking, as if it had not stood there 
 long?" — (Pointing to a simple shaft about as liigh as an 
 ordinary ceiling.) Ah, you have discovere<l one of my 
 heroes ! and do not feel too disappointed when I tell you 
 it is only Daniel Defoe. He shivered long in the cohl, 
 before he got those new clothes, but people took comj)as- 
 siou on him and dressed him up a bit, that he might not 
 appear (juite so shabby even among the ragged set sur- 
 rounding him. It was a contribution in "penn'orths" 
 from the children of England ; too small a sum to have 
 been compatible with the dignity of those who built the 
 njonuments in and about Hyde Park, and Trafalgar S(piare, 
 so it came as the gift of the cliildren, — those whose fresh 
 young hearts had not out-lived the memory of dear old 
 llobinson Crusoe. Ah ! iis a tribute from them, we feel recon- 
 ciled it is not in St. James' Park, ten times as high, and 
 surmounted by a bronze figure to perpetuate and recall a 
 form and feature, which, as a shaggy, elfish-looking crea- 
 ture surrounded by his animal friends, is better known. 
 
 1., 
 
 '4 
 
"I 
 
 w 
 
 U'A 
 
 llEVERIES OF AN oLD SMOKKU. 
 
 kindlier thought uf, and nioro heartily sympathized with, 
 than any name in all the kingdom of storydom. 
 
 It is quite in keeping with this abandoned spot, this 
 Bunhill Fields — all ignored in the high-toned map of regal, 
 Christian London — to feel we are indeed so near the vir- 
 tual hero of that far ott' deserted island ; and here too, 
 blending with his dust, is his ** man Fiiday." The story 
 that made the inxmortality of these men one, can it be 
 possible it were all a fiction ? How we have sympathize*! 
 with them in their troubles, grieved with them in their mis, 
 fortunes, or rejoiced with them in those gleams of hope that 
 bade them cheer ! How kindly, how lovingly, even in our 
 later life, do we recall those gatherings round the fireside, 
 where the question whose turn it was to sit on father's 
 knee, was of greatr^- import to us than were to cabinets the 
 deposition of emperors or the accession of kings ! And 
 now behold the interest, the delicious blerjding of terror 
 and wonder witli which they listen to the oft-repeated 
 tale of those two cast-aways ! — Watch the sparkling eye, 
 the glowing cheek, the quaffing of each word, the boyish 
 gulping down of whole sentences ! — How ill they brook 
 a pause, how jealously they glance sideways at the old 
 black pipe, on the mantelpiece, whose interruptions they 
 know of old and each moment hoping, yet fearing the 
 exercise of its sovereign rule ! 
 
 What a gush of sweet memories, even now, sweeps over 
 us with the thought — and is the story of Crusoe all an illu- 
 sion ? Granted ; but it is true to nature and inspires this 
 picture which is real. A shouting in the street outside 
 
(iRANITE AND ASRES. 
 
 105 
 
 arouses us from our reverie, and we look around rather 
 startled ; some of these plucky old dissenters, we remember 
 just then, died hard and long, and they do toll awful tales 
 of ghosts and spring-heelod jacks resorting in this vicinity. 
 We feel pretty hrave in the daytime, but we nuist confess 
 we are interlopers, after all, and you know live carcasses 
 have no business hero ; but the voice that might have bid 
 us begone is hushed, and we edge a little further in. 
 
 Are you not getting tiied and hungry ^ this sort of ex- 
 ploring is not like those jolly rambles in and alK)ut the 
 llowery vales of Twickenham, and Hampton Court, is it ? 
 and what a desperate appetite it does give one for sand- 
 wiches and beer. Well, we've only one more visit to make 
 and then — but look, do you see that pile of old stones 
 
 HI 
 
 there — ah, here we are now close up to it ; you can't very 
 well make out the inscription, it is rather obliterated and 
 it all looks so awfully old and crumbled. Well, I've been 
 liere once )»efore this and studied it out and now I know 
 who is there; possibly, you migl ! have hear<l of him, I 
 think you have, for the world knows him well, and even 
 that most exacting goddess Fame, was so enamoured of 
 his homely visage she wreathed round the brow now pil- 
 lowed there a garland of her choicest immortelles ! You 
 may guess whom I mean — it is the author of " Pilgrim's 
 Progress "* : — In life, bufieted in turmoil — in death, se- 
 questered in repose. 
 
 * While the author in at variance with Bunyan in a doctrinal jMunt of view, 
 that does not prevent him from feeling and expreshing the liighcBt admir- 
 ation, not only for the honest preacher, but for a work which all uin»t con- 
 cur in e.steeniinj.; .'is one of the few finest an«» most ori-^inal productions of 
 tjie imaginaf n extant, 
 
 
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 UEV£Rlh«S OK AN OLD SMOKKH. 
 
 X. 
 
 Four rough-hewe<l slabs breast-higli, form a rude in- 
 closure,and on the top of this is placed the recumbent effigy 
 of John Bunyan. The sculptor must have thought John a 
 very homely man, for certainly a more uncomely likenens 
 it would be difficult to imagine. This tomb and its where- 
 abouts is poor an<l mean, regarded in the light of in 
 any way an ade(iuate remembrance; there is no tribute 
 about it at all. No more has been done than common de- 
 cency required, unless, j>erhaps, the effigy, which maybe re- 
 garded as an item extra. Perfectly in keeping, however, 
 with the unpolished simplicity of this man's life, so was his 
 death, and is his resting place. 
 
 Why repine that Westminster Abbey may not con- 
 tain the ashes of this illustiious plebeian I this once 
 rude, illiterate, vulgar tinker ! Well, it has most of 
 our great dead, but the greatest it lacks, and amongst 
 them t\v< pooi' tenant of Bunhill Fields. This place, 
 it is true, is hardly in keeping, if we take into ac- 
 count the beautiful and jjriceless heritage which he be- 
 (jueathed; but then it must be renjend)ere<l, that gratitude 
 does not always express its thanks magnificently, and 
 precedence, you know, in England, and especially " con- 
 formity," goes a long way ; besides, it must not be forgot- 
 ten that Bunyan had undergone no monkish manipulation 
 of " hands," and reall}'^ had no Episcopal authority for 
 brin«/inff his " Christian " into the world at all. 
 
 It is none the less a consolation, li(twevei-, to re- 
 flect that, any efibj t to rear a ni«>nument adaipiate to tht* 
 
CRANITK AND ASHES. 
 
 1G7 
 
 () 
 
 
 
 lesplcnileiit reputation of the author of " Pilgrim's Pro- 
 gress," would be simply impossible, and serve rather to 
 stint the sentiment which his memory and his great work 
 inspire. We may deck the mausoleum of pampered princes, 
 with the grandeur becoming their mnk and state, — it im- 
 pels the admiration of gaping crowds, posterity is dazzled, 
 and royalty maintained; but this man was the artificeroi his 
 vvn gi'eatness, and that wrought in the envenomed teeth 
 f a persecution where none durst say, " God bless him ! " 
 There is no splendid Invalides, no bronze statue here — 
 none of the dumb * accessories of Buffalo, and Lion, and 
 ( "amel, and Elephant — we V)ehold, indeed, only the cast-off 
 liabiliments of a great man's mortality ; but up form his 
 ashes rises a form, not princely, it is tiuo, and yet sul)- 
 limer in its Doric simplicity, than the jewelled majesty of 
 kings. — Unlike the artificial light that comes down and 
 melts in a flood of mellow flame on the tomb of Napoleon, 
 tliero shines out from this rough stone in-n, a refulgence 
 that casts its grateful beams broadcast ovei* the earth. 
 
 It is just as well there is no lofty pedestal, no granite 
 monument with spiral steeps, to seek and stint the acme 
 of his fame — his peerless work is his memorial — and here, 
 despite all the detracting influences of mean surroundings 
 and abandoned ruin, we behold in his veiy isolation an 
 individuality all the more clearly defined, and virtues all 
 the more absolutely his own. No augustf dome rears its 
 regal arch over his head, — nought to intercept the smile of 
 
 * AH>ert Memorial. 
 tSt rani's. 
 
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 4 *!> t. 
 
 f ST''' ' 
 
 il^ il 
 
 nil 
 
168 
 
 REVERIES OF AN OLD SiMOKER. 
 
 heaven or break the glancing rays of .sun, and moon, and 
 star — out in sunshine an in storm, amid the twittering of 
 birds and the rolling of thunder, he sleeps now, calmly, 
 
 blissfully, THAT SLUMBROUS REST WHICH BIDES THE GOD 
 
 OF Day TO bid him rise, and be marshalled with "the 
 
 SPIRITS OF the just MADE PERFECT." 
 
 ,;V 
 
Itnagindtan. 
 
 
 
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 C.J 
 
 
 
 
 
IMAGINATION. 
 I 
 
 IN coinniencini,^ this article, T desire, in the first place, 
 to apologize for giving it so gran<l a name, and to 
 explain that its objective feature is, in one sense, the 
 opposite of wheat its title would indicate ; it being my 
 intention not to confine myself exclusively to the ideal, the 
 handling of which recfuires a tangil»ility which is found 
 only in a contrast with the real. In other words, while 
 using the word imagination as a heading, it is not my pur- 
 pose to attempt an elaborate* analysis of the mighty and 
 complex elements which it comprehends ; on the contrary, 
 I ap])eal to the sph'udid luminary whosr name I have 
 l.orrowed only foi* such glimmerings as may be acconh.'d 
 my poor but caiuest efforts to illuminate those other 
 darker phases of existence which I shall biing up for 
 examination, and whither I wouM direct those searching 
 rays with a view to contrasting the relative inHuences of 
 two great opposing elements, the real and the iinr^af, on 
 the ups and downs of life. 
 
 The title, then, rather denotes the source whence comes 
 that rosy flame which, drawn by fancy pinnacles from the 
 darkest tloudy, lights up not siniply tlie aiudess, beguile 
 
 \m 
 
 •■^^ Iff 
 
 ■■ »i 
 
172 
 
 UEVEIUES OK AN OLD SMOKEK. 
 
 'k 
 
 [i i 
 
 ing labyrinth of mere reverie, Imt also that other path, 
 iM'att'ii hard, winding its tortuous way along the steep 
 decline — throu<,di time seam, and mountain gorge— down 
 the hill-side into the vale. 
 
 Here let me say that whatever eulogy I may feel like 
 i)ronouncing on Imagination, I would not have it regarded 
 as an exclusive virtue, comprehending in itself all the re- 
 (puremcntM of happiness. The natural obstacles to its 
 free hoalthfid exercise may be, and doubtless are, many ; 
 but the fewer these are the greater our enjoyment, and 
 the unwise multiplication of them has the reverse ten- 
 dency to make us miserable. 
 
 In keeping, as 1 propose, within an easy range of the 
 two extremes of lleality and Imagination, I shall leave it 
 to others to say whore the line between the two should 
 be diawn the most I shall attempt to do is to suggest ; 
 but while in my predisposition to favor the ideal, 1 may 
 fail in justice to the real, it will be found the burden of 
 my lament is largc^ly a protest against the frantic zeal 
 evinced in the univeisal nuinia to realize, and against the 
 sleepless anxiety, as in the case of the holdei* of a note 
 on a doubtful bank, to redeem ideas and to materialize 
 thought. 
 
 Apiopos of favoring extremes, we njay observe that, 
 practically, divinity as well uh wisdom lies sonxwhere 
 between what I was about to call the narjow golden strip, 
 but it is not golden, at least not in our vulgar sense 
 of being adorned, but all undefined, exists .a mysterious 
 borderland called by that good word inodeiation. There 
 
IMAr.lNATfON. 
 
 17.1 
 
 is, indecil, a !iic«1inm in all tliin*^ tluit to some rxtoiii 
 falsifies ami puts to shame extremes ; to find the former, 
 however, it is necessary to have a proper appreeiation 
 of the latter, auvl ulthough there is no easy metluxl by 
 which this may Ik) accomplished in all cases, yet it is al)out 
 the line <lrawn midway l)etween these two opposites, the 
 happy goal lies, the exact estimate of which is our hi<^h- 
 est conception of right, and the reward for its observance, 
 the corresp()n<ling measure of felicity. Hut these extremes 
 are capricious and beguiling — they are as drifting sand 
 or the confusing glamour of n mirage, and often lead 
 astray the most unbiassed and sober ju<lgment. — Peace 
 may be a mere respite from war, — the breathing spell of 
 a nation recuperating from some stunning blow, but the 
 people of which are, or may ])e, secretly planning retali- 
 ation. — Then it is Vengeance hiding his lowering V)row 
 under the smiling ma.sk of reconciliation. — Between these 
 extremes rises the sublime image of the Reproving Angel, 
 and before Her they shrink back abashed. — Her do- 
 minion is maintained by a power more potent than the 
 sword, and less susceptible to mistrust than the " olive 
 branch." — Her sceptre is the [)ivot on which is balanced 
 the magic scale of right and wrong. — Her tranciuillity is 
 better than peace, it is neutrality, and Her triumph the 
 majesty of conscious strength reposing in the midst of 
 contention ! ^ - 
 
 Thus, too, save for disbelief and inability to com[)rehend, 
 the soul would shrink back appalled at the extreme specta- 
 cle of writhing bodies in an eternal Hell of (quenchless fire 
 
 } 
 
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174 
 
 KKVKKIKS OF \S (M.l> SMOKKH. 
 
 ft' 
 
 hihI it is ut^imlly ii l)l< ssiiigtliat rvcii iiiiiiginatiuu is tlmul» 
 and expressionless to a^^lequateiy appreciate the contrast 
 iKitwoen that and the opposite extreni** ot* perpetual and 
 perfect bliss. In<leed, the realizjition of either, in tli- 
 slight«\st ap[>r('('ial>le(h'gree, woidd be overwhehninjjf ; l»ut 
 the comparative stolidity with which we listen to all ex- 
 treme preaching, in«li<ates not so much our inditiercnce as 
 that we are mercifully constituted and constrained to imbibe 
 only the more moderate view; and, in the prodigious issue 
 involving our salvation, tluit is as nnich as it is possible for 
 }K)or blind mortality to reali/.e, or even partially to com- 
 prehend. Thus does finite Purgatory, take a stronger grip 
 than infinite Hell, and while Reason, in religion, as in the 
 most petty affairs of every day life, lies between extremes, 
 the finger of Truth points inward from the outer verge to 
 the true goal of E(piity and Justice, instinct, Humanity, 
 Conscience may teach us our true bearings to this haven ; 
 but when tliey are the result of calculation a contrast of 
 extremes is necessary, and the etfert, as in the hajangiui of 
 zealots to the same end, is all ^ the more marked that 
 exorcism, by way of comparison, introduces elements 
 so widely at variance as to seem hostile. Fanaticism is 
 the confounding of these extremes for the means — it may 
 be on the light road, but moving in the wrong direc- 
 tion. — I claim, however, its devotee will reach the goal 
 at last, though it be in a contrary way that prolongs the 
 toil without Imrring hope; and, furthermore, that any 
 departure from the true way will bring us back in the 
 spirit to the shrine from whence we started. Indeed, it is 
 
IMA«;IN UlDN. 
 
 !>•• 
 !/•> 
 
 /•> 
 
 not unt'ref|uently the case that the heart ot'tlw inont per- 
 verse niifl persevering in vice, is entwined in certain re- 
 I lainiing iriHuences which cri»ppin;r, insensibly, out of 
 depravity itself, the outcast is conducted through inrx- 
 ))licabl( ordeal to the si)ot whence lie Ixgan his downward 
 career. The place, in onr moral compass, is hallowe<l, then, 
 as the thri shold of home to the returned prodigBl ; and 
 wounded in the c^onHict 'twixt right and wrong, the 
 scarred veteran in criiin sinks sanfjuishrd before the altar 
 of bleeding memories. 
 
 Tlie idea that all true political and social refonn is 
 }»rogre8s directly opposite to aud aw;-,^ irom the condition 
 whence it dates the naw order of improvement, is erroneous 
 and fanatical, and conies of that jnopensity f(»r antagonism 
 in human nature which, instead of reconciling <lis(repan- 
 cies, sets them in conflict. Indeed, it is the misapprehension 
 of progress that makes the people of the nineteenth centuiy 
 exult in an exclusive wis* »m and rii;liteousness all their 
 own, and sneer at the so-called sensuality and inifiiety of 
 earlier generations. Reform, however, generally a<lvo- 
 Ciites extremes, — it progresses and retrogrades, — it surges 
 as in the throes of a mighty wave, — it inundates a country 
 and then subsides into old-time channels. — Aye, as light- 
 ning flashing through a pent-up atmos[)heie, and dissolving 
 its inky vapours into grateful showers,- -disappears, — so 
 Reform, opening up the Hood-gates on filthy Conservatism, 
 and cleansing humanity of social and political scurf, evap- 
 orates; satiated in turmoil, it is assuaged by the very 
 agony itself creates, and as tears couvsini: down the grim 
 
 
 i.||;: 
 
 71 
 
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 Photographic 
 
 Sciences 
 
 Corporation 
 
 23 WEST MAIN STREET 
 
 WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 
 
 (716)872-4503 
 
 <«^'» 
 
 ■.*■ 
 

 } 
 
176 
 
 UEVEIUES uK an OLt> SMOKElt. 
 
 
 
 profile of mountains, an<l along- the jagged sloi)es of hills, 
 it rushes down in torrents into the valleys, and is lost 
 in the sluggish, almost imperceptible current of "mighty 
 waters." 
 
 First, then, let us intjuire, what is Reality — what is Ima- 
 gination. In their connection, and according to the view 
 herein, realization is as the lead that probes the briny blue 
 depths of crystal ocean, and tells the anxious mariner 
 what is beneath the buoyant wave ; the bits of sand, or 
 rock, or slime adhering, being the facts that bespeak to his 
 practised eye what sort of anchorage he may expect, and 
 what are the dregs of Imagination. 
 
 Again, measureless as the fathomless sea would be the 
 volume of language necessary, ever so briefly but ade- 
 quately, to define and explain Imagination ; and here 
 it must suffice to say, it is the family name of that in- 
 numerable progeny of angelic visions that people and 
 beautify the gorgeous realm of the incorporeal. Its 
 mission is not to tantalize but to comfort ; and in this re- 
 respect its fancies are not all mythical reasonless phantoms 
 to be despised and repelled, but kind, ever thoughtful, 
 and faithful friends, whose virtues, unhappily, w'e are too 
 prone to imbibe in the spirit and falsify in the flesh. 
 
 The purest, the most delightful and fascinating of these 
 
 ideal attractions, not unfrequently, are found where Reality 
 
 presents, in contradistinction, what is most unpreposses* 
 
 sing and repulsive; — sympathizing with the flesh, they 
 
 » fraternize only with the spirit, — gratification is thti 
 
 '1' 
 
IMAGINATION. 
 
 177 
 
 cloud, the blurring mist that obscures them, — this, desire 
 dispels, and in adversity or want they assume a loveliness 
 preternaturally sublime, and shine down upon us in the 
 full splendor of midnight stars. 
 
 As in music there are no refrains so sweet as those 
 which are attuned to pain, so in imagery, our brightest 
 conceptions of life are the gleanings of its darkest hours. 
 But while the most splendid dream of the poet is bom in 
 deprivation and agony, and mutilated in song, the highest 
 realization of the painter or sculptor is comparative defor- 
 mity, dumb, senseless, spiritless — and hence, the chef cV 
 uiuvre that typifies Liberty in her most perfect symmetry, 
 is not perched, as we see it, on the capitol dome of a free, 
 opulent people, but pictured rather, in the imagination of 
 the fettered and oppressed — radiating the heart of the 
 galley slave, or set in conjuration against the dark, slimy 
 walls of hopeless incarceration. - 
 
 All the pleasure, all the pain in life are summed up in 
 two words — Imagination, — ideality. I would fain leave 
 out the pang of the latter, and confine myself to the bliss 
 of the former, not simply for the brief span of this hastily 
 concocted article, but could I exist a thousand years, live, 
 and think, and write in the delightful task of sapping to 
 the fullest extent a subject so vast, so resplendent, so su- 
 blime as Imagination. That may not be, I know it can- 
 not, and yet looking out upon its magnificent expanse, I 
 am inspired with an ever increasing awe and adoration 
 for the beauty and grandeur of this superb attribute of 
 infinity. Standing, as I feel I am, in the obscurity and 
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178 
 
 REVKRIKS OF /.X OLD SMOKKll. 
 
 silent HolitiKlc of the aborigine, gazin<^ out on that glit- 
 tering sea, a sentiment not altogether vain, makes the 
 temptation strong to take the plunge and swim or sink. 
 There are trophies there, in which, though all may claim 
 participation, none but august minds may grasp and secure 
 possession ; and while I am restrained by a knowledge of 
 the pitiable doom of the legions who have yielded and 
 been engulfed, I confess to no slight envy of the 
 chosen few who found in those limpid depths an ineffa- 
 ble delight — a blessed immortality ! Could one dive and 
 not sink forever, what a " Lethe" in its oblivion it would be 
 to all trouble — what a delicious unconsciousness of all re- 
 ality and vexation. One takes courage in thinking, as I 
 do in the handling of this subject, that he will not risk 
 himself far out nor where the water is very deep — that 
 he will avoid the bi-eakers — the conflicting tides — the 
 treacherous undertow — and then, in the effort of the 
 shrinking flesh to follow the soul into its native and most 
 genial element, the most intrepid, all shivering in abject 
 fear, dips the ends of his fingers in and lets that suffice. 
 But though we may forego the plunge, how longingly the 
 poorest and least eligible of us looks further sea-wards. — 
 There, in yon blue depths, we know, are scattered count- 
 ess hoards of ungarnered, unreclaimed pearls, and yet the 
 world has decided on the possessors of that exhaustless 
 store. — Ah, we sigh to think to venture there were 
 to impeach the validity of titled deeds, and by impugning 
 the integrity of hallowed records, we should disturb the 
 well-merited repose of those great Leviathans whose ele- 
 
glit- 
 
 IMA(aNATlON. 
 
 170 
 
 incnt it is. Indeed, the very thought of venturing, were a 
 sacrilegious ignoring of those giant intellects whose ap- 
 propriate dominion it is ; and although they might not re- 
 sent the intrusion, — they sleep, but their dreams are 
 amongst the triumphs of an ever wakeful, jealous World. 
 
 True, we may not fetter nor circumscribe even the 
 humblest thought, nevertheless, it may not range through 
 the universe of letters untrammelled by any considera- 
 tion for others, or where others have been ; and even in 
 the airy sphere of imagination, all are constrained to yield 
 to lordly minds, that exclusive proprietorship which comes 
 of hard wrought mental exploration and discovery. 
 
 In this connection, however, we may observe that even 
 in the case of those whose attainments, in the ideal realm 
 we glorify, how puny may their best efforts justly be con- 
 sidered, how stinted and inadequate, in comparison to the 
 boundless store on which it has been their rare privilege 
 to have drawn. In yielding then, even the poor tribute of 
 my submission, to the universal and omnipotent rule that 
 grants us glimpses but denies us Paradise, it is consoling to 
 reflect that the greatest have not been altogether an ex- 
 ception, — nay, nor so far removed from those humble ones, 
 who like myself, while yearning for exemption, can offer 
 no better plea than that of conscious disability. 
 
 While all may enjoy the pleasures of Fancy, it is doubt- 
 less a luxury to the world that they do not require to 
 write all they imagine. It is easy enough to construct a 
 vision in the mind, but to transcribe it without marring, in 
 fact without mutilation, is not so easy as throwing one's 
 
 
 
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180 
 
 IIEVEUIES OF AN OLD SMOKEll. 
 
 [,ii !■ 
 
 ,1 
 
 hat over a buttei-fly ; and let anyone, even the most 
 cultured, sit down and attempt to write on Imagination 
 and he will soon begin to feel uncomfortably oppressed 
 with the magnitude of thought which the word suggests. 
 It is a sublime subject to think about, but a frizzling 
 one to handle, and difficult and guideless in its immen- 
 sity. — Its horizon is ever receding — indeed, its scope 
 is boundless, and as the very means by which we seek 
 to compass it are those by which it is inflated, so does its 
 beauty beguile and its elasticity bewilder. But while it 
 cannot be described, nor measured, nor confined, it blends 
 in reason only when associated with what is real. 
 
 In the manipulation of such an element, I am not un- 
 mindful of the peril invob^ed. — A chemist, experimenting 
 on the volatility of gas, may be caught up and carried 
 away by the very contrivance he uses to explain its power ; 
 and to grapple with Imagination, even with the usual care 
 and precaution, might expose the most expert to the 
 mishap of getting entangled in some hidden coil attached 
 to the buoyant bauble, and then, whatever satisfaction 
 might otherwise have been felt in an illustration so em- 
 phatic of its elevating tendency, he would appear to those 
 looking on below, dangling in mid-air or shooting with 
 meteoric velocity sky-wards. ,,., ,=,, ;. v 
 
 III. 
 
 ''M: 
 
 It must be confessed that whatever charms theldealmay 
 have, it is so far from true we cannot ignore the Real, that it is 
 the hope to realize which constitutes a special, if not thechief 
 
IMAfJINATION. 
 
 1<S1 
 
 attraction. IikIolmI, loalities in tlicir inception aio pliantoins 
 of the Imagination, and those beautiful islands we see stud- 
 ding the placid waters of the ideal, and all so charming in 
 the distance, become in actual impact a reassuring evi- 
 dence, it is tmie, of our substantial existence, but alas for 
 the maii:aetic charm that attracted and bejjfuiled us ! it is 
 gone. Our insatiable love of possession, however, and the 
 spirit of discontent we call Enterprise, will not let us 
 rest; we follow from one to another of these infatuating 
 objects, and in each are we successively and invariably 
 disappointed. Hope reanimates Despair, and onward 
 through many a perplexing labyrinth we drag our weary 
 limbs inpursuitof thedelusion. — We meetfiiendsand those 
 we love, we enlist their sympathies, ami they join eagerly 
 in the chase. — All are fascinated, maddened, — and emula- 
 lation degenerating into rivalry, the expedition becomes a 
 race, a struggle, a contest ! And all for what ! Echo sends 
 back the uoual provoking refrain, " and all for what ! " 
 With those in front whose speed has outstripped the 
 other.?, we hear the anxious query, ** where is it ? " — and 
 those behind, overcome in the agony of feeling the 
 prize is lost, fall with the mournful ejaculation, — ■" Ah, I 
 have missed it ! " But the cry whose pathos penetrates 
 above the babel is " ivhat is it ? " It bespeaks volumes of 
 the trophy, as " ah, I have missed it !" does of the vanity 
 of human wants and wishes. Oftentimes it is mute, but 
 we interpret its appeal in the eloquent physiognomy of 
 Hope and Despair, and, though it be not uttered, we note 
 its silent impulse as it gleams in the eye, throbs in the 
 heart, and pants upon the tongue I 
 
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 UKVF:niKS op AN OLD SMOKKtl. 
 
 
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 In the t'linui of luxurious lioiucs, — in tliu liun«;('rin«^ 
 hauntsof the poor, — it is the novelty and splendor of that 
 mysterious, "what is it" which at one time vexes, at 
 another charms and eternally beguiles. It is the motive 
 power in concjucst, in enterprise and in Iovh,'. The van- 
 quisher stauds in full possession of the citadel wliich has so 
 long withstood the ordeal of an arduous and gallant siege, 
 he ransacks its treasure, hut finds it not. — Those who have 
 achieved the highest distinction in politics, art, or com- 
 merce, look about them in the mi<lst of their triumjdis, and 
 remarking its absence with a pang, wohder where and what 
 it is ! Aye, what is it. It is the subtle humor of life's name- 
 less yearning. All feel it ; the infant in its first troubled 
 wail indicates a guileless inkling of the inexi)licable want, 
 it is soothed in slumber, but when it wakes it cries. — 
 Youth, in the blushing nudity of unfledged confidence, 
 plumes himself he knows " what it is," and slyly revels in 
 the tempting vision of v/aking love, — then, thread- 
 ing the rosy labyrinth that leads him to his goal, be- 
 holds in the incarnation of his dream the charm is fled ! 
 It was only a glimpse he had of the fleeting fugitive, 
 entangled for a few brief moments in the warp and woof 
 of Imagination. Alas, it was only the sweet image of a 
 mirage, cast in the amorous deception of a spell. Like 
 him, we struggle forward, — the vision vanishes further 
 away ; we pursue it all through life, and find it always 
 and for ever fled. Its flight leads through a shadowy vale, 
 along the darkened trail of lost love and of faded beauty — 
 its refuge, that elysiimi of spent harmony where blend 
 
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r.MAUlN'ATloN. 
 
 183 
 
 iruiii;'i'li(; clionis tlio rcccdiMl (K'Iiocs cf niiisic iun\ of soivf 
 
 IV. 
 
 In opposition to, or rather in prostitution of, the Ideal, it 
 is a marked chaiacteristie of this clever aj^e to materialize, 
 and v.e have now come to reganl not only profit as the 
 main object of production, })ut also the market value as the 
 iiK^asure of merit. This a[)plios not only to thin<^s in 
 fancy, but in flesh, and not alone to substances, but to 
 persons. 
 
 . Here we may observe, that so far as the utility of a 
 thing may connnend it to the wants of a connnunity, 
 patronage following approval makes the reward not only 
 an evidence of merit, but a substantial mark of public 
 favour ; and he who confers this reqidrement on society, 
 may be satisfactorily recompensed, not in gratitude, but 
 in money — not in public thanks, Init in national funds. 
 While this is the practical return commonly preferred as 
 offering the strongest inducements to labor, neverthe- 
 less, regarded as an all-preyailing incentive to exertion, 
 it is a humiliating fact that such a compen.sation is want- 
 ing very materially in those finer attributes calculated to 
 encourage and develop the higher nature in man. 
 
 It requires no effort in imagination to conceive such noble 
 deeds as may have no price, no money equivalent, but 
 how far short of this do those schemes fall wherein merit 
 depends exclusively on pecuniary success ; and the discre- 
 pancy herein does not simply indicate the exception I 
 have taken to the market value of merit, but it explains 
 
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184 
 
 UEVEIIIES OF AN OLD SMoKi^.tt. 
 
 4 
 
 II way the shabby raiment in winch we not unfreciuently 
 find the miserable crenture of good impulses. 
 
 It requires very little knowledge of the world to have 
 peiceived that any product or project appertaining to al»- 
 stract worth, though it be of rare humane and intellectual 
 desert is, if not openly taljooed, left to suffer such a dis- 
 count in the public mart as virtually to languish and all 
 but starve. At the same time, designs subserving the most 
 vicious propensities of a people are in eager demand at a 
 high premium. — So true is this that we may approve and 
 neglect one thing on abstract principles, and, though con- 
 demning, patronize another from motives of avaricious 
 policy ; but then, it is only in view of profit we consent 
 to countenance what conscience reprobates. 
 
 Thus, while in the realm of letters, the finest v/orks that 
 embellish our book-world have emanated in the privation 
 and penur}' of profitless ideal, titles and fabulous sums 
 have accrued to the invention of big guns, murderous tor- 
 pedoes, and to such political bravado as leads to a periodical 
 rupture of the iron-clad peace of nations. So it comes about 
 that the best thoughts, the purest motives, the most disin- 
 terested projects, while endowed with the noblest qualities 
 and the highest integrity, are for that very reason w^anting 
 in those elements necessary to render them profitable, and 
 as such must submit to what, in a money age, is a worse 
 stigma than crime — pecuniary failure. At the same time, 
 while it might be expected the possessor would, in one 
 sense, be regarded as a moral triumph, — he is not, as society 
 is at present organized, even a popular example of the 
 
iMACnXATloX. 
 
 IS.' 
 
 notion, coiiitnonly inculcnttMl, of tlio almiuluiuM' and swrot- 
 iiess of virtue's rewar<l. 
 
 In this connection we may notice further, that while 
 public opinion, thou<^h freijueiitly in error, otters in the lony; 
 run, a fair trial of merit, that test of public esteem which is 
 obtaininl in the knockin*^ down of a thing to the highest 
 bidder, is to make merit turn on llie caprice of a preju- 
 diced and oftentimes depraved taste. Besides, the boon of 
 oven such a faulty judgment, is practically forestalled, 
 and public approbation anticipated by go-betweens, — 
 men whose duty it is to propitiate patronage and cater 
 to the general appetite, — and who, though profcf^sin^ a 
 latent appreciation of abstract merit, find their verdict, 
 like their service, controlle<l by an exclusive regard for the 
 momentous question of profit and loss. 
 
 These censors exist, and many by this means subsist in 
 every conceivable form and capacity. Indeed, in their omni- 
 present character, any act or expression which attains be- 
 yond the privacy of one's own thoughts comes, one way 
 or another, under their scrutiny, and is subjected not sim- 
 ply to their criticism but arbitrament. Then, while no 
 sentiment is thought of much consequence, unless stamped 
 by regularly constituted authorities, ideas that do not 
 bear the uncjuestionable " Hall mark," are regarded with 
 suspicion, not to say contempt ; finding that difficulty in 
 passing current as does a bank cheque that is wanting the 
 " cross " or magic '* initials " which, in the mercantile hier- 
 archy, denote the extent of its endow^ment Avith the re- 
 deemable essence of the God of Bullion. — ^ ---_ ,^ ii^ 
 
 '4 
 
 
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180 
 
 1 ;Uf if 
 
 HKVKHIKS OF AN OLD SMOKKR. 
 
 V. 
 
 Not iiulikf the hold Piocrustt's, who Io|)|mmI off or 
 slretched out all Hubjccts to suit his peculiar notion of u 
 good fit, the modern In(|uisitor, who, in a minor capacity, 
 is reflected in every splicie and walk of life, evinces, in 
 his pleniiKjtential character a hardly less depraved taste. 
 It is true he exhibits his knowlcilgc; of what is wanted in 
 a manner somewhat Lss cruel than his ancient prototype, 
 that is, he neither /u/w nor »tretch('8, but he prunes and 
 eliminates just as heartlessly, and though he may not 
 nuitilate, he re[)udiatcs all that does not come up to a 
 certain specitic gravity whose omniscient standard is (Jold. 
 
 Suflice it, however, for these to say — they are the 
 proxies of public opinion, with their ofl^ce in the vestibule 
 of posterity ; and it is to them we are indebted for such 
 a grotes(pie misconception of the abiding sentiment of 
 ages as declined Goldsmith's " Vicar," — till the old man 
 Johnson, obtruding the weight of his colossal indignation 
 on the scene, forced the bid up only to such a starvation 
 price, as hastened the demise of the author, whose energies, 
 we may add, expiring with the immortality of the 
 " Traveller," and " The Deserted Village," a portion of the 
 paltry income that had otherwise been needed to reim- 
 burse society for the (to him) extravagant luxury of a 
 more prolonged illness, went as an appropriate fund for 
 the partial liquidation of funeral expenses. 
 
 There is no doubt, the business of life is getting to be 
 exclusively to make money, and a man's ability to accumu- 
 late w^ealth, or the extent of his property, is taken as the 
 
tMAOlNATfOS. 
 
 187 
 
 ]KH»ulHr iiH'usuit? of his rrMjM'ctjil>ility ami uscruliiess. 
 Now-a-days, in our pious udoratioii of opulent virtue, an 
 indivi'lual without a ;^'oo<l Itank-account ^cts l»ut scant 
 Iwuison, and tins, notwitlistandin;,' lie Ik* the pink of 
 moral indij^ence. — A son who may not have the kiuick of 
 makinj]^ money, is deemed, even hy liis paicnts, abnormally 
 deficient in the purposes of his existence — a providential 
 misfit nnd a useless ineumhrance. So too, a daughter, a 
 dearly' d >eloved dau^^hter, whom we have reared in accord- 
 ance with those golden rules, who cannot or does not 
 marry a f(>rtune, or at least eonsiderahlc property, strikes 
 a death-hlow to fannly ])ride, and is even a worse fail- 
 ure than the son. — Sh(^ has " thrown herself away," we 
 say, and wantonly prostrated in tin; dust tlu; gilded fahrie 
 which her <loting parents and admiiing relatives have 
 reared, aye, and connnenced holding up to her dazzled hut 
 delighted vision, almost from the time thev first tauirht 
 her to lisp her wants. 
 
 Everything, in fact, of any utility is come to be looke<l 
 upon as a promise to pay, and the person or thing that 
 does not pay is held in about the same esteem as the 
 drawer of a protested note. Verily, it is hard to conceive 
 a more sordid state of human deiiravity. — Religion, with 
 all her high-toned accessories, is contaminated, and the 
 question " will it pay" is marching and counter-njarching 
 the great army of modern crusaders, who look more anx- 
 iously to the New Jerusalem foi" redeemed paper than for 
 redeemed souls. — -Friendship is contaminated, and w^e 
 can conceive no noble sentiment to sanction "what is 
 
 n^ 
 
 
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188 
 
 REVERIES OF AN Ol.D SMOKER, 
 
 sluibliy and proHtless. — Tlio iimsic* iiiid sunsliiiic of lifcs 
 Hiiblimest heroism, Love, is contaminated, and now Mam- 
 mon says Vn'usquely, to the living embodiment of our 
 lovin<( heart's ideal, "come;," and she follows, — and behold 
 the tender but sensitive chords, the blossoming vine, 
 and floral lace work that woman's witchery has inextri- 
 cably interwoven and embowered our shrine, droop and 
 fade, and tall, under the gleam of that yellow blight, like 
 autumn leaves, — and the idol of a worship all too divine, 
 unmasking the hidden Paradise of our yearning faith, re- 
 veals the mean imposture by which we have been be- 
 guiled. 
 
 The poor girl is not altogether to blame, in such a case, 
 it is rather the fault of her tutors ; and the generation 
 of the present may in turn shift the guilt back u[)on 
 others who, having transmitted the curse, passed away. 
 And here we may observe, if these early ones burn, as 
 we are told, till all accounts are sent in against them, 
 they will wait and linger long in turmoil, for crimes which 
 they only bequeathed, and the evil of which they ignored, 
 but the misery, consequent, endured centuries after they 
 had vanished in dust ! Thus, we might expect the re- 
 sponsibility of sin to be divided and mutually borne, and 
 it would not be unreasonable to suppose the beginning 
 waited on the ending, but for that divine proclamation 
 of amnesty to the mouldering and dying races of man, 
 — " let the dead bury their dead." 
 
 ...; .i:Z. VI. 'I/^■i:.;w^■ 
 
 I cite the amassing of wealth as an example of the pre- 
 vailing passion to materialize, and the consequent impa- 
 
IMAGIJJATION. 
 
 189 
 
 tience and discontent with which we re<rard every thino* 
 in a transitory and imperfect state, lead naturally to our 
 contempt for the ideal, which is looked upon as opposed 
 to the real. Our business and our triumphs now-a-days 
 are not, we think, with the incorporeal, which is rather 
 the bug- bear against which we bar our doors and windows, 
 and close up all the avenues of our treasure. Despite our 
 caution, however, we may not lock our hearts — they may 
 be the grim, tenautless rookeries of bachelordom, but they 
 are all the more eligible in imagination, as the sequestered 
 haunts of love's piracy and passion's lawless witchery^ 
 
 Still the cry is for the substantial, the tangible ! — The 
 etherial is not solid enough, it won't bear the beating, 
 the hauling, and squeezing that comes up to our ideas of a 
 real trophy ; so we push on and hardly stop to breathe 
 till we have reduced our ideas of earthly treasure into 
 hard cash, — our thoughts of an abiding place into brick 
 and mortar, — our dreams of love into wives, and then 
 all restless and fagged, we lose appreciation in the drowsy 
 daze of disappointment, and Dame Fortune, tired of our 
 service, says with Delilah, " The Philistines be upon thee !" 
 
 We have progressed so far in our material civilization, 
 that we measure character as we would gas, and purse and 
 credit are synonimous terms. So too, happiness and 
 misery are bargained for and against, and sold and doled 
 out by the ounce, or ton, or dose, as is wine or physic and 
 the consequence is, we are either in the frantic intox- 
 ication of artificial excitement or reduced to despair by a 
 })ernicious reaction. rj'A-vf:;;;h-i^:-'^-'f /'^ --■'.-"- v.-c.'N4?\:>--;b.;;,i. ., 
 
 
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 REVElllKS OF AN OLD SMOKEU. 
 
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 Meanwhile, racked by these contending elements and 
 debasing influences, we are expected to imbibe, and actu- 
 ally profess to practise, withal, a righteous sense of living, 
 and to make and apply all the subtle distinctions between 
 right and wrong. A feat of mental equilibrium, the 
 performance of which requires our utmost sobriety, and 
 the exercise of our keenest moral perception, and even 
 then, our best attainments, in reality, are only worthy of 
 the rare distinction of being pardonable failures. Indeed, 
 the most energetic and successful workera for good, 
 triumph actually, only so far as to at last struggle and fall 
 on the right side of the neutral line ; but while some drop 
 with only a leg, or an arm, or a finger over the magic 
 boundary, we pray some pitying spirit may help them 
 the rest of the way. - - ; •> ; 
 
 It may be urged in extenuation, that, owing to the high 
 standard of propriety professedly in vogue, we are forced 
 to dissemble for appearance sake, and we submit — it 
 is to be hoped, with commendable reluctance — to cloak 
 our debauchery under the proud assumption of better 
 living. In this disguise then, we strut abroad with the 
 dazzling concomitants of wealth and so called refinement, 
 conspiring in our honor and protection ; and thus too, our 
 pretensions pass current in the eyes of those we meet, — 
 not however, in the impulse of mutual esteem, but as two 
 individuals (I will not say thieves), encountering in some 
 lonely place at night, — each suspecting the other to be a 
 rogue, they pass one another with that deference and 
 civility engendered by mutual distrust. 
 
TMA(UNATION. 
 
 VII. 
 
 191 
 
 I would not deny the caprice of better-impulses, those 
 choicer strains of virtue that keep on trying to tug our 
 baser carcase along in the direction the spirit prompts; but 
 I fail to see in a prescribed, formal reiteration of good 
 resolves and in that orthodox, ostentatious " mending" 
 of people's " ways,'' any higher efficacy for the cure of the 
 evil of which I speak, than such as makes abstinence an 
 appetizer, and such a fasting for a day as gives gusto to 
 feasting of a week ! 
 
 This may be a discouraging and in itself a depraved 
 view of human nature ; but while it may be regarded by 
 some as an intemperate and exaggerated criticism, it 
 is proffered in good faith as a sober, and, as I think, ra- 
 tional estimate, — the colors, only, being touched up, here 
 and there, to suit at once the ideal and the real com- 
 plexion of Truth. So it is, without doubt or scepticism, 
 I most emphatically reaffirm, that to any one of the virtues 
 we profess to patronize, our sphere must appear simply a 
 pandemonium of carnal riot ; and in our drunken, sensual 
 conviviality we must seem, at best, what we really are, 
 the agreeable perfection of all that is most depraved. Re- 
 garded in this light, then, it follows, that in the remorse 
 of sober reaction, and in the chagrin of prostituted homage, 
 we should revenge outraged humanity on each other, and 
 malign, harass, destroy. So, too, even in the much glori- 
 fied efforts of some to relegate these evils, — stripped of all 
 fulsome panegyric, what is there to extol ? Why a man 
 whose surfeit of debauchery makes him ill, sneaking away 
 
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192 
 
 UEVKUIES OF AN OLD SMOKEH. 
 
 to find relief, calls the tilthy mission Reform ; again, he 
 sees, with the sated eye of the gourmand, poverty starv- 
 ing in the street and, returning to the festive board, re- 
 calls the vision only with the s3'^mpathetic pang of a 
 keener relish. Meanwhile, WANT covets bread and 
 PLENTY calls the hankering Communism! ! ! 
 
 viii. • . 
 
 But you say, why introduce into a subject like this 
 such glum phases of our social existence, or pass in review 
 such scurvy evidences of our defiled humanity ; why re- 
 call the battered and stinking characteristics of our mea- 
 ner mortality, — what have they to do with imagination, 
 unless, perhaps, to deodorize the sweeter graces of Fancy. 
 I answer, they have everything to do with it; in com- 
 parison with the ideal, they are the dismal range of bleak - 
 hill and dusky mountain banked up against a rosy sun- 
 set. — They figure in the gloaming of dispelled fancy, 
 chinked away inside the partition that divides the earthly 
 Day from the celestial Morrow, and though screened and 
 embellished constitute the inner lining of dark between 
 two gilded walls ! The result of the all prevailing mania 
 to subsidize, is the rapid accumulation of these time scars 
 which it requires no over-keen perception to see grouped in 
 a dim shadowy array of grim Realities. 
 
 Against the sombre shades of this darkened back- 
 ground, Iihagination rears those magic illusions which 
 though intangible, are real as the emotion that calls them 
 into being, and though defective, in com]»arison with the 
 
IMAGINATION. 
 
 193 
 
 Supreme, are faultless as our highest concej^tion of all per- 
 fect loveliness. These are not all portraits, some are pic- 
 tures of life which we people with the forms we like best, 
 and enact scenes wherein Love, Friendship, Devotion, 
 each plays a favoure<l role in some pet drama in which 
 Affection has written the story of cherished memories, and 
 in which Hope blends her spice of untasted joys. 
 
 Artists, highest in the art of portraying pathetic scenes 
 in life, have won imperishable fame, and justly so. While 
 I would not presume to detract from their laurels, neverthe- 
 less with all their great works before us, offering as they do, 
 the highest evidence that the knack of transferring the 
 ideal to canvas, was known and practised long ago by a 
 few of the old masters, it must be admitted, notwithstand- 
 ing, by those who take the trouble to think, that the 
 grandest achievement of the greatest painter can only bo 
 merely suggestive. After all it is God's own handiwork 
 wrought in the imagination that gives it its splendor, 
 its spirituality, its life ! In this view, the corresponding 
 ability on our part necessary to make it admirable, ren- 
 ders those sublime touches of Art a mutual success — not 
 alone an exclusive honor to one, but a general triumph 
 in which the humblest may claim participation. — Aye, and 
 so the mendicant, crouched in abject adoration before 
 that master-piece, " The Transfiguration," might, if he 
 only knew and appreciated the high estate pertaining to 
 his being, rise in the dignity of his manhood, and shaking 
 off the trammels of mere social abasement, assume an in- 
 
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 IIKVEHIKS l)F AN (>M) SMOKKK. 
 
 <lisput;il»le sliaie in the [U'ide and yloiy of lii.s brotlicr 
 Hattaollc. 
 
 IX. 
 
 
 Reality may be defined in many ways, and in its re- 
 lation to things animate, may be regarded as one stage 
 in life which infinitesimal space of time marks in our 
 progress towards the end — evolved, as it were, in a com- 
 plex system of whirlpools, round which we are propelled 
 by all our inclinations, and the focus of all these minor 
 pools is the bottomless vortex which we call the grave. 
 
 That we should take to these fateful stages of our mo- 
 mentous journey so willingly, comes about in that delight- 
 ful exercise of the ideal which, by magnifying and radiating 
 these friction sparks of time into a variety of pleasing 
 fonns, the period of fruition, becomes devoutly wished for 
 epochs, to which, in perspective, we cleave lovingly. It 
 is characteristic of our nature, as well as of the times, 
 to want to draw near reality ; I mean, the consum- 
 mation of wishes and plans by which we are expect- 
 ing a legacy of pleasure. All our faces turn that way, 
 and there is a magnetism as well as a fascination about 
 it that we cannot or do not resist. In fact, we are so far 
 from simply submitting to be borne along, we use every 
 means in our power to propel ourselves forward, and 
 out of all patience, even with the rapid flight of time, 
 in our contempt for its too tardy habits we cleverly ig- 
 nore intervals, — opening our eyes only at certain periods, 
 in<licatinif we have arrived at this or that staire of our 
 
IMACJINATION. 
 
 11)5 
 
 journey, which we are consoled to feel, is being expedited 
 by the accelerated speed of lightning express. 
 
 These intervals which oftentimes we doze away and count 
 as naught, constitute th(» ever perspective season we term 
 A ntlcipatlon ; the stopping-places being the Reality. The 
 former is the blossoming, — the latter the fruition, of life ; 
 and thus classified, they represent respectively, pleasure 
 and disappointment. It is no doubt true, with many people, 
 this order is reversed, and they impatiently fi*et and fume 
 for what they believe to be felicity, not in hand but coming, 
 and they postpone their enjoyment till the happy period of 
 arrival. But even then, our modicum of ])leasure is doled 
 out in anticipation, and to expedite the meeting we has- 
 ten foi'ward in advance — like a bridegroom to meet his 
 bride — rejoicing, indeed, rather than tiring as we wander, 
 year after year, in a vain search for an affinity existing 
 only in imagination. 
 
 X. 
 
 These intervals of waiting and longing, we all too fre- 
 quently count as an ordeal of probation and self-denial to 
 which we yield of necessity but most grudgingly. They are 
 to us a tedious tension of mind and body, an agony of sus- 
 pense which if we only outlive we think will usher in an 
 ample compensation. Aye, and we bide the time as chil- 
 dren do, itching and scratching through the interminable 
 age twixt Christmas Eve and the tardy dawn that signals 
 the sweet assault on socks. 
 
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 IIEVKIIIKS OF AN Ol.D SMOKKH. 
 
 All, how WO lonjLf for tlic ^oal ami that precious period 
 of l)an(iuetin<]^anrlh)ve-making! — how we strain oiir mental 
 vision to catch a <^liinpse of it ahead ; hut we will wait, we 
 think consolingly, and not take anything in the mean- 
 time to spoil our afipetite. And yet how impatient we are 
 of our speed. We would outstiip Time. The one who 
 drives the fastest it is taken for granted will get there 
 Ijrst, and so we say, put on more steam, apply the whip, 
 faster, faster ! Old chums pass us in the race, — we con- 
 gratulate them as they are hurled past ; rivals go by us 
 exultingly, — we envy them and are chagrined to be left 
 behind. 
 
 If we have a dear and anxious friend with a film before 
 his eyes, just a gauzy partition, say, between him and his 
 promised land, we wrench it away feeling we have per- 
 formed for him an invaluable service. But, great Heavens! 
 we exclaim in alarm and consternation, what ails him now ;• 
 he seems transfixed in terror -broken in grief What have 
 we done ? Nothing we need mind about, it is what all 
 the world does, it is a way they have ; we waked him up, 
 that is all. We thought it was the station where he 
 wanted to stop, and in waiting for wdiich he had been 
 in such eager suspense, or perhaps we only informed him 
 of something which we thought he ouglit to know and of 
 which he was in blissful ignorance. Now, howevei-, there 
 is a change of aspect. Our disinterested performance was 
 to him the nn welcome signal of some dread calamity, or 
 may l>e only some lesser misfortune or vexation ; but the 
 contrast to present pain makes the retrospect seem as if 
 
 » 'p 
 
IMACJINATIOX. 
 
 197 
 
 it iiiij^lit Iiavr iM'uiMli'liglitful, atul may iiu it was. I'cr- 
 liaps, our kindly uHicu was a duty ; still wo say — tliuu«rli it 
 may sound like the policy of the sick-room — we bad 
 done much better not to havt; disturbed liini. 
 
 Who says nay, I care not what his belief, is thr fanatic 
 wlio issues forth in pious frenzy into the tian([uil night of 
 so called heathendom, and in the assumed voice of the 
 avengin*,' angel cries, " Fire I Fire !" when there is no fire. It 
 fulls upon the startled ear of the slumbering devotee, and 
 wakes him to the carnal apprehension he will be burnt; and 
 with no higher instinct than the nuid impulse to savehim- 
 sL'lf, he sees the opening where the light is let in — it is made 
 to seem the only means of egress from his perilous situa- 
 tion — he jumps and then he falls into that lethargic state 
 of new-fangled evangelism, whose boasted liberality is only 
 too apt to be the arrogance of bigotry, the serenity of 
 apathy. 
 
 Whatever orthodoxy may dictate to the contrary, 
 I believe there is reason in the indulgence that inclines 
 in such a case to give him back his dream, i admit that 
 dream may be all erjoneous, but then if it be happy, it is 
 as good as right, and if serenely confident that all is well, it 
 is better than wisdom, it is faith. In making such a start- 
 ling affirmation as, — if it be happy it must be right, — I 
 mean that in following the simple promptings of humanity, 
 all have the benefit of a monitor whose kindly suasion is 
 not only in unison with the finest instincts of our nature, 
 but also as nearly in accordance as it be possible to con- 
 
 
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 RKVKIUKS OK AN Of.f) SMOKER 
 
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 ceivc, >vitli that Divine will whose ex puiieiit, ineurimte, in 
 tho hninuii heart. 
 
 VVould I apj)i*()ve the iiniimlation of a fellow Iwing 
 as n sacred rite ^ N<j. Why^ Because the instinct of wliiirh 
 I speak condenins not only that horrid custom, but 
 many others for whieh we have to thank, not the will of 
 the poo})le or of (Jod, but rather the ordinance of a heart- 
 less Hieraieliy, that they (!ver prevailed. We have ex- 
 alted evidence of tlie fact that the worst atrocities in all 
 the })lack roll of crime have been perpetrated in the name 
 and misconception of ri^ht; but that does not disprov 
 the view above enunciated. Nay, even in the tableau 
 of the unhapi)y Abraham, sacrificing^ his own son, we 
 see a fc«rther illustration of the commcm sense of mak- 
 ing peace-of-mind the in<licator of right doing; an' I the 
 atrocious triumph of the saint over the father, on that 
 occasion, is only redeemed from universal reprobation by 
 the God of Silence having broken the spell of speech- 
 less wrath to bid him stay ! '- 
 
 We may add, furthermore, that many of the doc- 
 trines we would substitute, are neither enlightened, 
 peaceful, nor humane. There is no sense, no justice, no 
 love in the abominable expedient of cruelty, — all virtues 
 are opposed as with one voice to vengeance, — and the 
 theory of a lake of fire, is no doubt a crude and glaring 
 example of the sensual tendency of this and an obsolete 
 age to materialize. Hov/ever politic its use may have been 
 in an early period, it is needless to inquire ; but now it is 
 not simply illogical, it is vicious to maintain, that to eke 
 
I. MA(JI NATION. 
 
 Mm 
 
 out tlio n!\vur<l uf spiritiiul felicity, we iimst iummIs not only 
 Im- threatcntM] witli corporal punishnicnt l)ut Imve, as \vc 
 (Jo, this Hwect fore taste of fragrant Paradise, made at 
 once redolent with the o<lors of appi'usiiin; incense and 
 stifling with the fumes of pui'j^aitorial hrinistone. Indeed, 
 it can be r('<j;anle(l iik no l)etter light tlmn as a sacrilegious 
 monstrosity, the effete virtues of which are conceded only 
 by those who have the brazen effrontery to profess what 
 they do not believe,— and, without wanting in ability to 
 ap{)rehend, nie lacking in n)anlines3 to condemn. I reit- 
 erate, it is a i)ious leprosy tiansmitted, despite the disin- 
 fecting fumes of incense, through the contagion of putrid 
 generations. The effect being worse than in the darkest 
 days of bigotry and intolerance; for without the faith that 
 then obtained to dis[)Ose us to purchase absolution, we 
 save our money and in the oblivion of its luxury enjoy a 
 comfortable indifference erroneously dubbed liberal piety 
 
 XL 
 
 'Mr: 
 
 Reality is the wreck of Imagination ; and we see the 
 evidences, all too sad and true, that Time has cast upon 
 the shore. To a great extent, this is inevitable. We are all 
 drifting on that rocky ^^ortage which, looming in a black 
 banier against the sky, betokens at once the end and the 
 origin of the turbid waters of life. Well, let it come in 
 the gradual progress of events ; and w^hy I raise my voice 
 is to expostulate with that mad seamanship which, crowd- 
 ing on all sail and steaming directly for the land, precipi- 
 
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2lK) 
 
 UKVEUIKS OK AN OM) SMOKKU. 
 
 
 tales futa.stiophu. The uiiiMtloii of people in tlirse livtfiil, 
 enterpiisiiig tiiaes Is, us I have said, to reduce all thin^^s 
 pertaining to the ideal to the real — thiH, too, as quickly as 
 possible — ami therein, I claim, lies the secret of much tri- 
 bidation, as well as the cause of that \vitherin«:j I lii^dit 
 which, fallin<^ in the 1 u<ldin;( sprin«^-tide of life, heaps 
 upon a barren strand, joyless mounds of drifted leaves. 
 
 While the dream of happiness should not be awakenc:d 
 simply because it is a dream, the <lispelling of anythinj^ 
 so absurdly pleasant as many of our illusions may l^e, 
 not unfre(piently invites a worse deception in the fact 
 that j)roves it a chimera. Besides, too, ideas nursed 
 from their inception with parental tenderness, will attain 
 later, the strength and maturity of reason ami utility ; 
 whereas, to force their growth, as we do, is to invite de- 
 cline and precipitate disappointment. Indeed, it is the 
 cultivation of anticipation, — long drawn out, that becomes, 
 in its gradual ripening, a fruitful source of happiness. — It 
 does not perish from day to day as the shrivelling flesh, 
 but fructifies in the spirit, and makes the ordeal of final 
 dissolution only the birth of new life and the perj)etuation 
 of uninterrupted joy. - 
 
 Here we may observe that, while consummation comes 
 as the natural se(][uence to the hard wishing and toil 
 preceding it, nevertheless, its tardy approach may be 
 felicitated in the reflection that, the last blow struck 
 in the completion of any work dispels the charm that 
 made the idea of its origin the delight of its creation. 
 Mere sensual gratification is, as a rule, the mainspring of 
 
IMAtJlNATIoN. 
 
 t!Ol 
 
 all (iiir plans ami attioiis ; lait it is only in lliu uxceptioii, 
 and that rarely, wo realiz*; expectation, and totind tlu* true 
 .secret of happiness, we discover, when tcjo late to enjoy, 
 we nuist set ahout nncloin^, or at least repenting much 
 wo have ilonr. 'J'his, too, notwithstaiulinj^ our aehieve- 
 inei ts may liave been counted hy the worhl a success. 
 
 In tlic lal)or of retrospection, we not unfretpiently tirnl 
 tiiose works hy which wc set the least store, assume the 
 <,'reater prominenco «n<l reveal the most worth. And in 
 this connection we may note, the attainment of anythin«( 
 that is a mere contri})ution to our own pleasure must he 
 distinguished from the performance of a <luty, or some ai t 
 of pure benevolence or kindness in behalf of others. In 
 the latter case we may go about it with a degree of de- 
 libeiation borderinjij on reluctance, and think wistfully ( f 
 more genial tasks we have put aside for this work of self, 
 abnegation. It is, or appears a sacriHce for which we may 
 not expect nuich return, but now the pleasure, in the re- 
 verse order of the former case, instead of being the anli- 
 cedent glow or thiill of greedy impulse, comes to lighten 
 the retrospect of which I speak, and is, in effect, ha[>piness 
 sown for subseciuent enjoyment — the recompense, the 
 abundant gratiKcation of a perpetual harvest. 
 
 In opposition to the real, one feature of the ideal is that 
 it assumes persons and things to be better than they are, 
 and more attractive than the}' would otherwise appear ; 
 and to this peculiarity are we indebted, not a little, for 
 peace-of-mind under adverse circumstances. Indeed, it is 
 not too much to assume there is no misfortune, taken in 
 
 Mill 
 
 M < 
 
202 
 
 nKVEHlKS OF AN OLD SMoKKH. 
 
 w 
 
 
 tlio hoiKt fide course of ovuiits, that lias not, as lit'iviii, its 
 attendant and adequate halm to solace and reeuperate. — 
 We may go a little further even, and say there is no con- 
 dition in life that has not the latent and natural, althouj^di 
 wanting in the ostensible and mateiial attributes to 
 make all men ecinal and all things well. — That while the 
 world is naturally as enjoyable for one as for another, 
 the iliscrepancies that seem at variance with this are, for 
 the most part, brought about by an improper exercise ol 
 nature's gifts ; or, at best, by such a misconception of our 
 duty as to make nnicli of our boasted enteiprise, greatly, 
 if not wholly, at variance with the higher plans of a most 
 kindly and impartial Providence. These plans for our 
 liappinoss are neither difficult nor obscure ; at least, 
 they would not be, did not our schooling and enlighten- 
 ment make them so, and our advisers, instead of guiding, 
 mislead us as regards what constitutes the true treasure 
 and correct object of life. 
 
 It must be confessed some may appear more bountifully 
 favored than others, but so far as worldly goods are con- 
 cerned, while api^reciation makes the poor man rich, 
 avarice makes the rich man poor. Physically, however, 
 the above exception would seem to obtain, but even those 
 cases are endowed with ret rie vino- irraces of the mind. 
 Besides, the man who carts his body around with him 
 every where is under the muscular dominion of appe- 
 tite, and is beguiled by something worse than the vanity 
 of his ow^n shadow. Then, too, while the exercise of our 
 corporeal being is conducive to pleasure, it is equally 
 
IMAGINATION'. 
 
 20r, 
 
 «;nscept)l)l«^ to paiii : youtli liivors tlio furnior, old {i;^c 
 the latter. Now wlule we lal)or prot'essedly to provide 
 for the infirinities of the one, our efforts are really to 
 supply the appetites of the other ; and the store, however 
 tempting it would have been in our early days, seems, on 
 the contrary, more especially adapted to the punishment of a 
 Tantalus than to the succoring of our enfeebled energies. So 
 it is, old and incapable, we find we have succeeded, by exer- 
 cising all the keener instincts of the gourmand, in realizing 
 the dream of the voluptuary ; but in the attainment of a 
 luxurious establishment, ]>erfect in all its appointments, 
 there is still one (h-awback. — It is, indeed, an elysium for 
 youth, but the very oi)posite of an asylum for old age, and 
 ])estered with the cruel inconsistency between the arm- 
 chair of the patriarch and the goal of the juvenile, — poor, 
 miserable, chagrined, — we turn from the gilded fraud, a 
 wholly ineligible candidate for the temporary use, nmch 
 less the unrestricted enjoyment, of our own possessions. 
 
 
 *.i 
 
 XII. 
 
 The measure of misery which a thing may produce is 
 in inverse ratio to the pleasure it is capable of affording. 
 Though we derive exquisite enjoyment from the FLESH, it 
 is only in the exception it is not made the instrument of 
 our sufiering ; meanwhile a little of that observation be- 
 stowed on less worthy objects discovers this mistake, — that 
 we set our chief store of happiness by it. As, however, we 
 may not blind ourselves to the fact that it must perish, we 
 
204 
 
 REVKIUKS OF AN OLD SMoKEU. 
 
 ?1 
 
 M 
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 ii 
 
 becoiuu the natural prey to a well-f(jiiii(lod apprehcnsiuii 
 and, instead of rejoicino-, lament in tlie midst of our mate- 
 rial triumphs. 
 
 Why the jjoorer classes are not happier is because they 
 are not educated beyond the satisfying of mere brute ap- 
 petite ; and amongst the wealthy and more cultivated tlie 
 same animal propensities are only the more largely but 
 gracefully developed and exercised. So, also, the use and 
 discipline, and not alone the exaltation and praise, of those 
 higher faculties which would raise them above the dread 
 of petty failure and a shabby living, although professedly 
 observed to the letter, are virtually ignored, both in spirit 
 and practice, or at best patronized only for effect. 
 
 In other words, the so-called refinement we see paraded 
 all around us, and bought and paid for, is to man what a 
 brush or curry-comb is to a horse — a means for showing 
 them off to greater advantage. But being, in the former 
 case, adapted especially to the embellishment of prosperity, 
 it does not in any degree develop those other latent quali- 
 ties and deep-hidden gems, which, constituting at < »nce the 
 glittering regalia of man's innate royalty and the patent 
 of his nobility, go so far to win homage and respect even 
 for the refugee in adversity. 
 
 The truth is, we do not foster a proper esteem for 
 the idealistic. Nay, and the time stolen, as if in shame, 
 from the all too engrossing cares of business, and dedi- 
 cated grudgingly to the seemingly unprofitable, culti- 
 vation of that beautiful and prolific field, should not 
 be, as it is, the fag-end of a idle hour, — a dusky intrusion 
 
1MA(JINATI0X. 
 
 205 
 
 ona weaned spirit, — and, altogether, the peevish tribute of 
 a vexed day's old age, but rather a goodly share of that 
 period which gladdens the f^rst springy impulses of re- 
 stored nature — I mean that sjolden border to the niffht 
 when the mellow flame that lights our dreams merges in 
 the rosy blush of dawn — that nick of time when starry 
 Eve, rising in sweet embarrassment from the arms of Mor- 
 pheus, yields with maternal instinct to the ever recur- 
 ling infancy of elastic morn, and, — vanishing, — we still 
 behold the imprint of her kiss in sprinkled dew-drops 
 sparkling on the baby face of the new-born day ! 
 
 ♦ ! 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Youth is supposed to be overflowing with romantic 
 visions, which it is presumed by the older ones to be 
 their duty to dispel, and so they belabor themselves in 
 hacking and pruning and trimming. Give us, say these 
 knowing ones, corn not roses, and the flower they encou- 
 rage is the kind they eat. This reminds one of the fanati- 
 cism of the reformer or pioneer, who cuts down and clears 
 away every vestige of tree, and shrub, and vine, in his con- 
 tempt for what he styles vain and ])rotitless ornament. 
 Later generations, however, frequently find that what their 
 extinct daddies prudently condemned as an extraneous 
 and worthless growth, was not all a superfluous produc- 
 tion and a mistake in nature, and thereu])on invoke 
 bountiful and ever-forgiving Providence, to lestore the 
 grateful luxuiy of this old-time heritage. 'J'hen it is the 
 
 
 *iit? 
 
206 
 
 llEVKRIES OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 I 
 
 bushy chestnut and the leafy oak, the ever-green hedge- 
 row and blossoming gorse, once so unceremoniously ex- 
 pelled, are recalled and reinstated. Then, too, as the scions 
 of an ancient noblesse in the gorgeous pageant of a i-e- 
 stored dynasty, they are pointed out with pride and love, 
 not only as amongst the courtly gi*aces of a benigncr 
 regiTne, but also as the most admirable tokens of an im- 
 proved social polity. 
 
 Generally speaking, in our treatment of the mind, we 
 seek to sow only what will mature quickest, and as regards 
 expeditiousness in yielding, are rather disposed to favor 
 the example of some of the lower orders of animals. We 
 would, if we could, make production simultaneous witli 
 conception, sowing and reaping all in the same stride. The 
 variety of production aimed at, being that which will the 
 most readily contribute to the making up of v/hat is termed 
 a ** living," beyond this we have in view what constitutes 
 our highest conception of an earthly el-dorado — it is com- 
 prehended in an article and a substantive, and this noun, 
 together with its adjunct, is about all the great majority 
 of us ever realize of " A fortune." 
 
 In this manner the minds of our children are " trained," 
 only in such teaching as, like the wares of a common 
 huckster, can be the soonest realized in the market ; and 
 thus, with all the ridiculous gravity of learned baboons, 
 we apply ourselves to enlarging their understanding, by 
 warping their aspirations. The one all-absorbing object 
 in life is money- making, ami to accomplish this en<l 
 
TMACJINATION. 
 
 207 
 
 we subordinate both tlie uses of Kducation ami the pur- 
 poses of Existence. 
 
 Nor are the liigher systems of what is erroneously called 
 " University" education, without such warping characteris- 
 tics as make them like the "religion" of sects, catholic only 
 in name. We mighi have hoped (might still hope) to see 
 our universities convalescent homes for diseased prejudice ; 
 but instead of that, they are contagious resorts, where 
 healthy minds are sent to be inoculated with the prevail- 
 ing distempers of the age, and are graduated invalids 
 physically, — and mentally, maniacs on every subject per- 
 taining to the liberal doctrine of common smse. Edu- 
 cation, however, ordinarily speaking, is largely the re- 
 sult of a hasty cramming, and mechanical committal to 
 memory, of numberless text-books — many of which are 
 " garbled," and the true meaning of the original perverted 
 and mystified. Its use, the dexterous application of certain 
 rales and formulas, not in the commoner business affairs of 
 life merely, but in those professions where the ministering 
 of these forms are become lucrative occupations and crafts 
 for the exclusive benefit of the few, and to the impover- 
 ishment and general hardship of the many. Beyond 
 "coaching" the intellect to profit by and maintain " pro- 
 fessions" and "cliques" which are already become a griev- 
 ous public nuisance, our process of "culture," inculcates no 
 more liberality than is observable in the arrogance of the 
 pedant, whom we see delivering himself with such senten- 
 tious gravity and aplomb oi hifi unimpeachable "authori- 
 ties." Hei'e let us observe there is nothing, speaking within 
 
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208 
 
 llEVKUIES OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 l)f)un<ls, that the Innnan inin»l in the exercise of its natural 
 energy and foresiglit, does not possess the faculty to analyze 
 and test. Without doubt, too, the truly ennobling part of 
 knowledge is the real hard study and thought by which 
 it is originally conceived. But this effort of mental brood- 
 ing and hatching, is impossible, when it is considered the 
 number of rules, regulati(ms, and exceptions one must be 
 able to rattle ofi* in order to stand hi<xh in his class. So 
 ignoring our own self-producing faculties, we take and 
 pay for the intellectual food prepared for our consumption, 
 and, with no thought of the altered conditions of life, 
 shut our eyes and blindly swallow. 
 
 In this way it comes about, the youth aspiring to 
 <.'ollegiate honors is set to the routine of acquiring know- 
 ledge when he is not considered fit for anything else ; 
 graduating later, literally stuffed with ideas not his own, 
 he astonishes an ignorant community by fathering con- 
 ceptions whose real parents are as old as the Pyramids. 
 
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 . ^:-,,;: ;.;■ ,. xiV. ■•■•■•-■;■!■■ --vy-i'. 
 
 In athletics, each different exercis^i brings into requisi- 
 tion new sets of muscles, all of which become strongei 
 with the strain. This applies as well to the mental, as to th 
 physical organisms. In the former case,however, these com- 
 binations, rightly exercised assume, through the medium of 
 fancy, all the brilliancy of pyrotechnics, together with the 
 changeful splendors of the kaleidoscope, — this, too, with 
 .the additional and fatofid charm of that vitalizing essence 
 
I MA(J1 NATION. 
 
 •JO!) 
 
 wliicli, instead of conveying to the senses the marvellous 
 phenomena of pleasing and wonderful colors only, endows 
 those coruscant fltishes in the ideal lieavens, with the 
 liighest perfection of human virtue and intelligence. Then 
 it is, that in the sublimity of their conception, and in the 
 infinitude of their variety, we identify mind with soul» — 
 and, stamping thought with those regal attributes of pri- 
 mitive creation, blend the likeness of man with that of 
 the Supreme, and unite mortality with immortality I 
 
 In confining ourselves to the more grovelling aftairs 
 of material advancement, our greed, in the effort to 
 plunder others, overleaps itself, and we pass indifferently 
 over the fact that each and all of us possess immense 
 territories in the mind, which, though we regard them 
 in many cases as of no particular value or utility, are 
 only veile<l in a mystic wealth, whose hidden veins of 
 latent riches intersect our ideal being. While these only 
 need a little exploring and opening up to be brought most 
 agreeably and beneficially into play, they are permitted, 
 nay encouraged, to lie fallow; hence, though ignorance 
 may sometimes be bliss, it is not economy. 
 
 There is the impression we have already noticed, which 
 is, if we leave the Imagination free it would run riot; sober 
 teaching, it is claimed, isnecessary to keep it within bounds. 
 80 they clftp on the brakes and set the young mind, not to 
 grubbing always, but to copying after the example of 
 certain models so antiquated as to merit the unique title of 
 " classical." Barring, however, their opportunity to thus 
 discipline the Imagination they do what is considered by 
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210 
 
 IIKVKIUKS OF AN OLD SMUKEH. 
 
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 Nuiue the best, unci by many tlu* next best thin^', — tliey 
 hobble it. Later, forsooth, the highest conception such 
 a stinted mind can have, is to get rid of its shackles ; 
 like the poor cripple, whose dream of bliss is to be ri<l of 
 his deformity. 
 
 Generally speaking, time, labor, and treasure spent in the 
 imbibing of certain so-called knowledge and doctrines in- 
 variably secure, if not our belief, at least our acquiescence 
 in the truth and infallibility of such acquirements. Our 
 puny intellects have wrestled with the mighty works of 
 famous masters, and we come out of the scholastic tussle 
 mental athletes in the handling of the ponderous prob- 
 lems and prodigious ideas of other men. We are easily 
 made proud of our achievements, and the refined world 
 applauds ; but what are the acquirements of which we 
 l)(mst ? Some, it is true, may be genuine trophies won in 
 the bloodless warfare that is waged with all the pomp and 
 gallantry of the mock-heroic against that vandal Igno- 
 rance ; but the most of them are ideas plundered in the 
 anarchy of conflicting theories, — pratings, cribbed in th(^ 
 abstraction of adverse opinion. - :; 
 
 Some of these mental offshoots may and do bear trans- 
 planting, and taking root, on the principle of the graft, 
 find sap enough in our heads to be kept alive ; and though 
 they become a surface growth — the ivy of wisdom only — 
 are both highly ornamental, and admirably adapted to 
 the difficulty of fastening their delicate tendrils into the 
 hardest and most opaque substances. But here we may 
 indulge the conceit suggested by the thought that, in the 
 
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 .i. I $ 
 
lMA(iINATinN'. 
 
 211 
 
 «l«)iiiiiii<^ of this suit of a))[>ai'(;i, if Natiiri! was as ubli^ini^ 
 to the lower orders of aniuials as witli man, we should he 
 treated to the e<lifyiiig spectacle of the male of the goose 
 assuming the ])ri]!iant ])lumaj;e of the peacock, and the 
 female of the hahoon decke<l out in the incomparahle 
 splendors of the hird of paradise. 1 do not intend to enter 
 into a lengthy criticpie on sucli acipiirements; while heing 
 capital in stock to the possessor, they are in many ctwes 
 the mysterious fountain of professional reverence nnd 
 success, and as such cannot he too highly prized or 
 too zealously sought after. Satisfying, in this view then, 
 the purposes for which they are intended, it is not surpris- 
 ing that, despite the imposing amount of erudition upon 
 which Progress and Civilization are supposed to wait to get 
 their authority and impetus to go on, how often we find 
 amongst the votaries of this species of knowledge, if not 
 the most bigotry, at any rate the least originality. Then, 
 t.oo,many minds supposed in this way to be most abundantly 
 enriched, are rather hampered and weighed down with a 
 mighty load of fossil trumpery, impeding the free activit}'' 
 of the Imagination which, instead of being allowed to 
 swim, like a fish, propelled by the graceful unity and com- 
 bined symmetry of all its parts, is packed like a donkey 
 and made to climb. Thus, with a limpid sea before us, cf 
 myriad springs of living waters, and with the mind's hea- 
 ven of peerless blue, in which Imagination mirrors all the 
 jewelled wealth of the other starry realm, we confine our 
 thoughts to commerce and to skipping, like flies, over the 
 
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 HKVKUIES OK AN <)Ll> SMUKKU. 
 
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 <laiik, feti^l iiioistiiiii whii'li sopulclnul ay;L's have uecuiiiu- 
 lated in tlie foot-priiitH of pigmies! 
 
 XV. 
 
 Many tlnn<,'s we know by heart, we never took the 
 trouble to ascertain the meaning of, and tl»e true merit of 
 which had we known, we had never taken the trouble to 
 learn by heart. To various forms of this sort of rubbish are 
 we lashed, as was Moses in the rushes, and thus swathed, 
 are sent out into the world, not simply to battle for life, 
 but to perform a ceitain task wliich is to make money, and 
 to get j)ossession of our neighbors' property, without actu- 
 ally robbing him. 
 
 Tliis dowery of anticjuated lore is supposed to keep our 
 moral being afloat, and we are enjoined by the guardians 
 of our intellectual welfare to stick to it for dear life. Then, 
 when we are aroused later to rational consciousness, that is 
 the sort of stuff* to which we tind we have been clinging as 
 do sailors to the debris of a shipwreck. In some respects this 
 maybe all well enough, but in others its ludicrousness is ex- 
 hibited in the spectacle of people, who never see more than 
 water enough to wash themselves in, walking in rugged 
 Vv'ays miles in-land, lashed as I have said to these grotesque 
 moral life-preservers. Thus it is that the manners of the 
 Nineteenth-Century assume the characteristics of the De- 
 luge, and the grand avenues of our boasted free-thought 
 and free speech retain all the tortuous windings, which in a 
 
IMAGINATION. 
 
 213 
 
 primitive aj^o was traced by ihi) rneainlering path of soii»o 
 l)lear-eye(l, crazy, old «,'oat. 
 
 While this may he regarded as an exaggeration, there 
 is no douht that many of the teaelungs and writings with 
 which we burden our memories are to <lay higldy venera- 
 ble specimens of obsolete nonsense — admirably adapttnl, 
 no doubt, to the circumstances that gave them birth, but 
 may we not presume they have served the purposes of 
 their creation, and ought to be allowed to become extinct; 
 instead of which, their general and eternal application to 
 all similar cases and recjuirements are not simply taken 
 for granted, but ligidly enforced. Thus, emergencies in 
 the lives of our piously revered ancestors, whose vicissi- 
 tudes partisan History in its efforts to glorify has obscured, 
 and who lived too long ago, eithei* to excite interest, or to 
 he known, are kept in a state of perpetual and mock resur- 
 rection. In this way, too, the crime, heroism and convi- 
 viality, which, together with their concomitants anguish, 
 cowardice, and heart-burn, that <listurbed the peace of in- 
 dividuals thousands of years ago, are made subjects of 
 religious tuition and kept alive, fostered, and moralized. 
 
 Again, if we take the man who in his early youth was 
 sliortened or pulled out to suit the Procrustean measure 
 of " useful knowledge," and has used his intellect like a 
 tread-mill. Is he struggling for " creature comforts ?" Well, 
 talk to him about the virtues of the idealistic, and you 
 will either excite his contempt or scare the life out of 
 him; at least, he will suspect your sanity or designs. He 
 hs^s becoipe so as to feel that anything outside the itenihi 
 
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 UKVEUIKS OK AN UlJ) SMOKKll. 
 
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 regulating his liiie and siil>Nistenoo, an«l the routiiiii of 
 his (k'partniuntal diitius are a " tluluMion and a snare." 
 Or let \\H presume he has plodded into " a fortune," 
 and that all liis aspirations and efforts havt; lieen en- 
 listed an<l a}>sorl)ed in the work. Well, in the zenith 
 of his triumph he is a monomaniac, — neither can ho 
 stop even to taste in peace the fruits of his labor. 
 This man went in exclusively for tin* substantial, not 
 the idealistic, an<l as the incentive to exertion, so th<> 
 measure of the reward partakes of the nature of the body 
 and not of the spirit. Talk to hitn of the trophies of an ideal 
 realm, and you oidy excite his derision. It is true he may 
 ape an admiration for some things pertaining to Art, an<l 
 even condescend to patronize them, but his " forte" is 
 business and all his energies aie focussed on the prospect 
 of accumulating pi'ope'ty. He can't bring his cramped 
 abilities to bear on any thing else, an<l though not origi- 
 nally a brute, he has gone in for and must be satisfied 
 with the enjoyment of the brute. 
 
 I don't say he may not enjoy a certain amount of gra- 
 tification in his way, no long as his treasures stay by him, 
 but these do not rise above the dignity or satisfaction of 
 mere chattels, and on them he is as helplessly dependent 
 as a child. Indeed, in the case of him or any one else, 
 whose life objects are embodied in his possessions, loss of 
 property is the most pregnant source of misery. Even 
 though he secure his means against reverses, then, since 
 his wealth cannot be taken from him, he is tortured with 
 another still darker apprehension, — may not he be tjiken 
 
IMACJINATION. 
 
 215 
 
 away, ki<ln>i|)pe<l a-s it w«»rc from his wealth, and removed 
 iKjyond all hope of re.storatioii from that which has catertMl 
 so fondly to his appetites. This phantom stays hy liim to 
 the last; ovei-shadowin^ not only his own future, hut also 
 that of his children, whoso liappiness ho may think, and 
 has taught them to feel, is dependent on tho same grovel- 
 ling' and penurious conditions.— Ah, it is a spoctre only to 
 hi3 driven away hy the lusty exorcist; of a superahunilanco 
 of animal, or as is most frequently the case, oi ;• roholic 
 spirits. So too, consistently with this man's manner of 
 living, the anniversary of his dissolution is tho serving 
 of a bountiful feast, — a most sumptuous spread of costly 
 plate and tempting viands — and at tho head of the tahle, in 
 the great arm chair of domestic state, sits enthroned a 
 bleaching skeleton. Then straightway, his hones are 
 hustled away as are the debris of a Christmas banquet, and 
 the routine of twixt holidays goes on. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 I have no doubt if you could have met this man in his 
 more clammy moments. — I mean when the steam of a 
 hardly contested competition had condensed somewhat — 
 he would have assured you in tho vacant contem})lation 
 of an absent mind, he was not what the world 
 thought him — a success. That he had made a great 
 mistake in life, and in his own private opinion, Ids 
 career had been a failure. — That business vexations, from 
 which ho had ever been powerless to claim exemption, 
 
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 IIKVEUIKS OF AN OLD SM()K1-:H. 
 
 had always kept, liim tlissatisfiod, perplexed, miserable ; 
 fai'thermore, he doubted whether there was any such 
 thing as happiness except in the fevered visions of extatic 
 dreamers. 
 
 Well, I do not favor any more than he or anybody 
 else the apathetic dozing away of precious life ; but 
 what 1 do object to is, on the one hand, the chaining down 
 of the mind to the exiorencies and vanities of a mere bodv- 
 service ; and on the other, that species of supei'ficial cul- 
 ture which while being the other extreme of vacant senti- 
 mentality, only tickles the fancy by such a mechanical ab- 
 sorption of the l)eautiful ideals of others as, aping the 
 inborn refinement of which these are the exteriial evidence, 
 enables us to shine, as does the moon, in the virtue of a 
 letlected light. What I wovdd like to see is less trafficking 
 in extraneous opinion and borrowed wisdom, and an ini- 
 l)roved growth of unsophisticated common sense and native 
 originality. 
 
 To bring this about we need not necessarily go to college 
 to be hampered with garbled versions of ancient lore ; nor 
 need we give up projects and employments, the further- 
 ance of which are nticessary for our subsistence ; but spend 
 less money on the body and more time on the mind. Do 
 not dissipate the vital forces in false excitement, but hus- 
 band and develop nature's wealth in tranquil meditation. 
 This of itself will lead on to that most important deside- 
 ratum of our existence, which is the cultivation of a free, 
 healthful range of independent thought and study. Then 
 without stinting the Imagination,'give all things pertain- 
 
IMAGINATION. 
 
 217 
 
 hv^ to the ideal as much scope as possible — and this, with- 
 out let or hindrance on the part of those craunching, blight- 
 ing mill-stones, business and especially domestic affaii-s. 
 It alone can establish our claim, not to the paltry posses- 
 sion of lands and tenements, but to the universe ; and while 
 it raises us above the vexed repining over mean estate 
 and humble fare, so does it soothe the more saddening con- 
 sciousness of our shrivelling and ever-ailing flesh. For just 
 inasmuch as they become wedded to the body or the 
 spirit, and make the one or the other of these the chief 
 object of adoration, so are the poor amongst us wealthier 
 than the rich, and the rich poorer than penury itself. 
 Behold the hermit whom we see cloistered and seemingly 
 sequestered from the world ! Is it sanctity, " pure and sim- 
 ple " that eradiates his cheerful soul ^ *No ! at least, not as 
 we think ; he enjoys in his voluntary incarceration an 
 undisturbed libeity of the fancy free as the unfettered 
 dream of Paradise ! Aye, though the body be imprisoned, 
 let the Imagination sail about the air like a hawk. — It 
 sees in the grand ensemble of nature, outspread beneath, 
 the true sublimity of ( -reation ; then, too, the order 
 of greatness amongst the living is reversed, and while the 
 IVIastodons of the human race are seen wallowing in the 
 mire, behold, the despised insects weaving their " man- 
 sions in the isky," and in all the atoms that people the 
 air, there is a harmony of purpose which makes their in* 
 stinct diviner than our wisdom, ^ 
 
 
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218 
 
 IIKVKUIES OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 «'l. \ 
 
 .^1 
 
 Here we may observe, that to let these Fancies simply 
 " run wild," were to neglect them. I do not mean that. 
 Give them the appropriate means of wholesome and 
 agreeable expression; and, to accomplish this, Imagination 
 can have no more admirable or satisfying an interpreter 
 than music or painting. But as we observed regarding the 
 ways and uses of culture generally, these accomplishments, 
 as such, we treat as gilding or use as hacks ; and, without 
 the application necessary to give them the stamp of our 
 individuality, abandon them after a few lessons, leaving 
 their highera.ttainment to a few whose uevotion is esteemed 
 genius, and whose performances are made, to us, the hired 
 luxury of bodily, rather than of intellectual entertainmet. 
 As it is, with youthful dabblers and even older perform- 
 ers, the exercise and cultivation of the former and most 
 pleasing of these vehicles of sentiment, is made the dreaded 
 task of a penance, and not, as it ought to be, the soul-in- 
 spiring delight of a passion. Indeed, to regard those more 
 exquisite strains of melody, we sometime liear, as mere 
 acquisitions to the duller forms of conviv tij'w, is to de- 
 base, (as most of our pursuits incline us ' > do,) the 
 noblest gifts of man or brute. If, however, we may take 
 a hint from the more soothing and exalting effects we 
 know these produce, may we not presume, as claimed 
 herein, that in the cultivation of the idealistic generally, 
 we bring into grateful play the most refining influences 
 of the mind ; and while its exercise, in the many ways con-^ 
 
IMAd I NATION. 
 
 219 
 
 ducive to enjoyment, is not confined to music alone, never- 
 theless to give it tongue its language is song. 
 
 All proper minded people now-a-days say take away 
 your novels, take away your romances and give us what 
 is real. I do not intend to discuss the merit or utility of 
 works of tiction. They might be, though rarely are, beau- 
 tiful products of the imagination, and like pictured land- 
 scapes, are, or ought to be, true to nature, and hence no 
 fiction. But now, I admit, they are prostituted and pan- 
 der, only too often, to those cravings which revel in the 
 portrayal of other and more exciting scenes in the down- 
 ward stage of lifvj. But then, even the worst of these arc 
 only poultices, highly seasoned, with which we swathe 
 our diseased minds and bring to the surface the more 
 corrupt humors of the body. They deserve an item of 
 credit too, and sometimes serve a little good ; for like 
 swine, they root about, as many another more pieten- 
 tious radical, pointing their noses at holes in our fences. 
 And so viewed in an unprejudiced light may be regarded 
 as no worse a visitation, perhaps, than the old time curse 
 
 of frosrs and locusts. 
 
 XVllI. 
 
 Apropos of realities, however, it is but just to admit 
 that some of them are as pleasant as could be wished, and 
 would be delightful, for that matter, did not our schemes of 
 enjoyment overshoot their mark and leave us unconscious 
 of the goal, which, by the way, we may be in the midst of, 
 
 
 
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 REVERIEfi OF AN OLD SMOKER 
 
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 but in our haste and ignorance think it far away. The 
 fact is, there is no royal standard to designate that particu- 
 lar hallowed spot, and the truth of its proximity, dawns 
 upon us, if at all, insensibly — most invariably, too, after we 
 have passed it, and when, alas, it is too late to go back. 
 
 In this connection I am reminded of one place in our 
 racing, steaming career where our train slacks sometimes, 
 and even offers, now and again, the luxury of a full stop. 
 It is the most genial halt on the line. Then it is we are 
 partially aroused from our listless indifferent state by the 
 shock produced in a sudden cessation of the infernal 
 vibration and rumble attendant on our tremendous speed 
 — and are brought full out of our drowsy letharg}' by 
 the porter shouting in stentorian tones, " Nunda ! Nunda ! 
 twenty minutes for refreshments ! " Nunda, we exclaim 
 almost involuntarily, why Nunda is home ! And there is 
 a tremulousness in the voice in which is breathed the; 
 nmsic of that magic word home. Not home-in-law but in- 
 nature ; not the teasing invention of a later fancy, but the 
 original and indisputable heritage of immaculate mother 
 love. The old, old home, — that one embalmed in sweetest 
 memories of bygone days, — hallowed and saddened as time 
 goes on with the imperilled wealth of all its early associ- 
 ations, but treasured still as the <lear old moss-grown re- 
 miniscence of " lang syne." 
 
 In boyhood we have romped and revelled there — and 
 in the dust and turmoil of later years, have cleaved to 
 the grateful shade. In distant lands, amongst strangers 
 ftnd ajone we have sighed to think of th^t fair abode so 
 
IMAGINATION. 
 
 a. W i 
 
 far aWiiy, and Weary of the fascinatious that heguilcd us 
 hence, have closed our eyes on grander sights to welcome 
 hack again the dear old vision. Is it, indeed, the old, old 
 home ? Yes ; the old, old home. With some, perchance, this 
 temple of boyhood's idolatry has passed forever away ; but 
 even then it is seen in imagination, where it remains up 
 to the veiy last — pictured in the mind. Old Age, propped 
 upon the elbow of declining years — watching his sun set — 
 sees it in the direction in which the sunbeams slant, bathed 
 in a flood of golden light, and in the puzzled delight of 
 childish rapture, mistaking it for the other Paradise, thinks 
 it the ineffable goal of life's troubled prayer ! 
 
 Alas, how little does this sentiment affect many of us in 
 reality ; and on this occasion, it is appalling how coolly 
 and indifferently we take in the situation. "Ah, Nunda ; 
 — let me see, the old people live here now I believe. 
 Twenty minutes ! let's see, I'll just have time to drop in and 
 say how-d'ye do. Home right on the way — what a happy 
 coincidence — won't lose any time and I would like very 
 well to see the old folks." So we hurry away with this good 
 object in view. But as we pick our way in vexed bewilder- 
 ment through the labyrinth that environs home, we are 
 just the least bit irritated by an unpleasant feeling that 
 we are somewhat a stranger in that once familiar maze 
 whose puzzling ways it was amongst our earliest impulses 
 to explore ; and we recall, with a certain gravity and even 
 qualm of conscience, the long time that has elapsed since 
 last with tearful pang we dropped the silken thread of its 
 magic traceiy. , . :; 
 
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 llEVElllES OF AN OLD SMOKEU. 
 
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 Clam 1)0 rin<^ up the grass-grown stops leading to those once 
 cherished portals we seciu to cast a shadow on the porch. 
 Ah, it is the phantom of " Love's Young Dream," hover- 
 ing over the sheltered screen of its early slumber. Then, 
 too, that old door-bell, we think, sounds stiangely liko 
 Vespers, and theie are other shades gathering al)out the 
 place as of the twilight of waning years. Well, it may 
 not be so bright as memory has so often pictured it, and 
 yet it is the dear old hon»e still. And there is about it all a 
 mellow^ liaze, like unto the autunm summer, betokening 
 a welcome assurance of the unquenched source within of 
 all our boyhood love, and simshine. 
 
 There is but little time for meditation, how^ever; we soon 
 find ourselves in the eager embrace of "first love;" and anxi- 
 ous inquiries and tearful eyes greet us in the warm impulse 
 of genuine solicitude and affection. Then it is we feel a 
 slight touch of childishness,and for a moment hesitate about 
 throwing aside oui- coat and the other paraphernalia of our 
 toilsome pilgrimage. A thought creeps in, and seems more 
 than usually persistent in its appeal, to let our journey end 
 here — at least for a time. But nay ; our route shows this 
 to be only a " flag station " where one pulls up when he 
 gets a special signal, it may be, of distress. — "This our goal I 
 No, — it is only the place we started from and here we're 
 back again." Then we think, ruefully, we must have made 
 a mistake in our calculation to have stopped at all, and are 
 nearly vexed at the idea of being in such a profitless place 
 as home. No, we must push on and make up for what 
 seems lost time. But there is Mother — Heaven bless her 
 
IMAtJINATlOX. 
 
 2l>.S 
 
 — .she who knew our likiri^\s once so well ; ami at tlio fust 
 glimpse of a face so (juickly renienibeicMl as ours, notwith- 
 standing the disguise of beard, she is <livided in the 
 sweet perplexity of joy at our return and tlie pleasure 
 she will have in the design of " something good." Tlien, 
 straightway she conjures up some tempting dish that with 
 her boys never failed to win their suffrage and their praise. 
 It is not necessary they should come home loaded with 
 presents, and followed by the plaudits of admiring multi- 
 tudes ; but hunted to earth — battered and broken, penni- 
 If^ss and hungry as they may be, and too often are, still 
 there is the greater wealth of gladness in getting home, 
 and, the son's feast is the mother's banquet. 
 
 Ten minutes have passed and we are almost getting to 
 dread we must so soon say " good-bye." Besides, the 
 old folks have so much to tell us and there is such a 
 treasured fund of unanswered quer}'- they would glean 
 from our lips. Aye, they brought us into being, and 
 crave, with w^istful eyes and longing hearts the welcome 
 boon of a fragment of our, to them, dear life's precious 
 story. 'Tis vain — the bt;ll rings — time is up. — We bid 
 the stunned and bewildered old couple a hasty adieu — 
 it may be their last glimpse of us on earth — and are 
 gone before their enfeebled minds could well have found 
 fit expression for their full hearts. But we have not 
 missed the train. — The cr}^ " all aboard " breaks the spell 
 of home — and again we are rushing on with a frantic, tire- 
 less eagerness to realize other and more lucrative stages 
 in the progress to our goal. 
 
 ■m 
 
 
 HI 
 
 i 
 
 IS** 
 
 
 »,! 
 
21H 
 
 |{KVKIUK.S OK AN OLD S.MoKKU. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 •111 
 
 I 
 
 Tlie florist knows the name and nature of every one of 
 the little wilderness of plants under his care, thougli we 
 commonly blend them all under the general appellation and 
 aspect of flowers. While the examination of each family 
 specimen of this blooming progeny reveals a correspon- 
 ding resemblance to the human plant, it is but one of the 
 many sublime objects offered the conscientious idealist in 
 the anatomy of the human mind. Indeed, the analysis of 
 character, presents the same delightful task as the study of 
 all these different varieties of bud and blossom, with the 
 enhanced charm of human instead of vegetable life. And 
 while the cultivation of the idealistic faculties, together 
 with that vigilant exercise of them as will keep them from 
 becoming blurred, tend the more strongly to define and 
 individualize each distinctive feature and phase of our 
 nature, we thus ac(iuire an appreciation of our mental 
 powers and resources, and therein, also, a knowledge of 
 self. 
 
 Ideas susceptible of being realized in this life constitute 
 the immediate and most pleasing incentive to action. 
 They incline us in the performance of nearly everything 
 that is said or done, and only tend, in their higher adultera- 
 tions, to that restless distemper we call ambition. These 
 ideas are identical with that most prolific element in the 
 mind we know as imagination — their conception being 
 that sensation of delight we esteem happiness. The 
 nobler and purer thes(^ ai-e the less exciting, perhaps, but 
 
 't <i 
 
IMAGINATION. 
 
 22.*) 
 
 the iiiui'c exquisite the pleasure, arnl the more prolonged 
 the enjoyment ; and just insomuch as our aspirations glory- 
 in hopes and expectations which can only be realized in 
 another world, do we revel in those exalte<l realms of 
 thought to which we may consistently apply the sacred 
 appellation of Religion. Again, that revelation in the mind 
 enabling? some to realize the full fruition of thin<;.s irene- 
 rally found impossible of attainment, and overleai>ing in 
 their demonstration the commonly accepted bounds of 
 reason, is a conception bordering on the supernatural: — 
 we call it, in some cases, madness ; in others, genius ; and 
 this phenomenon in religion is either spurned as fanaticism 
 or glorified as Inspiration. ' ' 
 
 There are many things we know to be not only actual 
 facts but sources of useful knowledge, and as such I have 
 no desire to undervalue them ; at any rate, we cannot 
 change them at will. While i many respects facts par- 
 take very much of the caprice of things in general, never- 
 theless they possess this peculiarity for constancy, viz: 
 they won't " budge" just when we want them to; they are 
 part of the heterogeneous estate of man, and many times, 
 alas, standing directly in our path incommode us sorely. 
 Indeed, how often they obtrude themselves, as grim, 
 mouldy walls, built in the exercise of proprietorial greed, 
 right up in front of our window ! — aye, reared in the legal 
 right of man to monopolize the air, but cutting off for ever 
 a most charming view of some pet-landscape. 
 
 Anticipation finds in Reality the arch enemy by whom 
 she is beguiled and betrayed ; he sucks her life-blood, 
 o 
 
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22G 
 
 IIEVERIKS OF AN OLD SMOKKU. 
 
 i 
 
 i ;H 
 
 nor is he siited till nhe becomes a corpse — then, that the 
 sweet ideal no longer lives becomes a Fact. Illusion may 
 be regarded as the dream of Anticipation — when slir 
 wakes her smile is gone, and when she dies she gives 
 ]>iith to Experience: — this latter progeny assumes to br 
 resigned and virtuous, but is really all the time plotting t<» 
 revenge the mother, and for this purpose employs a spy, 
 which we know by the name of Doubt. 
 
 Neither /ia*^ nov reality nmy be considered incontrovert- 
 ible; talk of either and you confront us with the uncer- 
 tainty of all things, temporal as well as spiritual. True, 
 we see and know, in one sense, many things that actually 
 exist or transpire, but even then, in our relations and in- 
 tercourse with each other, comes in the inevitable adjunct 
 of which I speak, to taint the purity and to disturb the 
 tran<|uillity of our most confident asisin-ances. While this 
 seems engendered in the inexj)licable mystery of our sepa- 
 rate individualities, we find Friendship, Love, Divinity, 
 sublimest Trinity, conspiring with their subtle afHnities 
 and meanest opposites, in unkindly confederacy to nuise 
 Suspicion. — Aye, and thus, pampered and pufled till abnor- 
 mally plump, does that sinister trait over-lap, while yet a 
 cherub, the rosy bed of the world's sweetest nuptials! 
 Later, old and lean, and gaunt and hungry Doubt is the 
 vulture that sweeps down upon poor Fidelity, and, with a 
 rapacity worse than that which feeds on carrion, laps up 
 the bloom that glistens on the fresh, dewy leaves of Truth ! 
 
 m"^ 
 
 M< T'.>: T-' 
 
rWAaiNATION. 
 
 XX. 
 
 227 
 
 There is a feature alnnit tlio ideal wliich it may 1)C no 
 more tlian fair to rival claims to mention. I refei- to that 
 discrepancy in the imu<^ination known as Appreliension. 
 This latter ([uality was intended, we mi«rht naturally pre- 
 Huine, to ]>e a provision in ournature to insure a judicious 
 amount of caution ; but, in the case of many, bad habits 
 and teachin*^^, and still woi*se consciences, have given it a 
 painfully ludicrous form and <,aowth, and then it becomes 
 a jungle of phantom animals, — many of the magnitude and 
 ferocity of the species termed " e::tinct," and as grotesque 
 and unreal as those of the " antediluvian period." Indeed 
 nothing was ever seen except in apprehension so absunl, 
 so unreasonable, and withal so terrible, except, perhaps, 
 those regal phantasms incorporated in armorial monstrosi- 
 ties which modern history keeps resuscitated, — aye, and 
 which some aristocratic Democracies still retain, in palatial 
 nmseums of princely pedigree, as mementos of the less en- 
 lightened reign of Griffins, Dragons, and Unicorns ! 
 
 Assuming for the nonce the smallest animal in all the 
 mimic menagerie of Apprehension to be that grunting 
 pigmy which distinguishes Guinea; then, let this inoffen- 
 sive quadruped fancy itself a Colossus in whose presence 
 all the other and greater monsters become tame and sub- 
 servient and virtually lose their identity, and we shall 
 see typified in the most diminutive of hogs the meaner 
 sort of characteristic called " Conceit." Again, were I 
 a magician I might change all these animals into one, 
 
 •li 
 
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 ,;l 
 
ti28 
 
 UKVERIF.S OK AN OLD SMOKKIl. 
 
 :.m:^;i. .: 
 
 unil, K^^'*"o '^ ^^^^ instincts of all tlio utliei*s, call it 
 Cliaineleon. Then, with tho craft of the fox, would be 
 hlentletl the confiding <;race of the gazelle ; — with the 
 Htrength and arrogance of the lion, the gravity and wisdom 
 of the baljoon ; — with the radical inipnlMes of tho porcu- 
 pine, the conservatism of the owl ; — an<l with all repellant 
 attributes of the skunk would be mixed the rtnleeminir 
 characteristics of the musk-rat, togt^ther with the 
 peculiar fascination of the anaconda ! 1 would call it 
 Chameleon, because of the presumption that this mongi'el 
 would be able to change itself into any or all the other 
 characters to suit the occasion; but in the phraseology we 
 Use to make ourselves understood, you will probably 
 comprehend better what this monster would be like when 
 I tell you in plain English it w d be Man ! — and the 
 female, Woman ! and their corresponding affinities in this 
 aspect of human traits would be Egotism and V'anity. 
 
 XXI. '■' ; 
 
 --44 
 
 In the higher ideal of life we may conceive poor Mor- 
 tality proceeding along lus journey, surrounded by 
 a queenly retinue of sympathizing spirits and goodly in- 
 fluences : each of these is known by a certain name, and 
 the absence of any one of them may be regarded as a 
 moral deficiency. They are incorporeal, but incorruptible, 
 and while they may not control, they point tho way. 
 \Vorking against these,however, are all the brute instincts 
 of the body, and the ups an«l downs of life are but the 
 
IMAUlNATiON. 
 
 229 
 
 outward h'i^uh of the iiiaiiM'ial triiiinpliH ami deft'ato 
 that distinguish these opposing eluineiitH. 
 
 In the onwanl rush to rcilizc — in thn turmoil an<l 
 strife of this great tratHt; of life, or say ir\ the ven- 
 ture of some pet scheme — as we are about to plunge 
 forward, and are gathering our energi«;s for the spring, 
 we sometimes feel conscious of something nudging our 
 elbow ; tliere is magic in the thrill of that touch, and 
 a voice so soft and sweet, that it seems to blend in 
 the liarmony of the air whispers, — "pause, rc^Hect !" It is 
 Prudence !— one of the fostering band above noted — and her 
 duty is to watch and restrain. She may generally be 
 found in company with Patience, whose mission is tran- 
 (|uill't and contentment: and here we may observe to 
 think of Patience as " on a monument, smiling at grief," is 
 an atrocious caricature, and it is su<rh erroneous, but 
 graceful phrases, that give us wrong impressions of these 
 traits of character. She is not a goddess of lethargy, and 
 does not and couhl not live in apathy. Prudence 
 leaves her to keep us company while we wait, and were 
 we not blind to her winning ways, we should find her may- 
 be, even a pleasanter companicm than the <h>ubtful charmer 
 that keeps us in suspense ; but we cannot bear to tarry, we 
 even mistrust the agents by which we are delayed, so we 
 regard Patience as a decoy, and suspect and dislike her 
 exceedingly. Sometimes we do manage to tolerate her 
 after a fashion ; she is, we think, a necessary restiaint ; 
 but then we blame Prudence for it all, and she, we find 
 simply insufferable. When we go about the enjoyment 
 
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 I II 
 
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230 
 
 REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 
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 ii III |i II 
 
 ^1 
 
 of any thing — we may bo only going to call on some par- 
 ticularly agj'ceable and genial companions, or to some 
 entertainment of especial attraction ; — or, it may be in the 
 more sober course of business, to look after a speculation 
 or project that appeals with more than the usual force 
 and attractiveness to the weaker points in our nature ; 
 but just in the flush of animal impulse, we must needs 
 meet Prudence brushing past us in a contrary direction. 
 And then it is she turns, and motioning us aside from 
 the exciting throng, tries to persuade us to take some 
 other course, — which, by the way, is generally opposed to 
 that we would most willingly have taken, and very often 
 at shai'p and galling angles to our inclinations. 
 
 No ; she doesn't bid us godspeed on all our expedi- 
 tions, and still she sticks to us like a jealous spouse. 
 She is an imperious beauty, however, and we are 
 afraid to tell her to be gone ; nevertheless, we don't 
 like her — dread her, in fact, because she knows all 
 the wrong we ever did, and being about, as usual, in 
 good time, advised us against it. Often have we tried, 
 but not quite succeeded, in deceiving her, or even in 
 prevailing on her to take a nap. Now and then she 
 seems as if she would like to have us make love to 
 her, but she is not our peculiar style, and we can't 
 " warm up " to her. — Nay, there is about the phlegm of 
 that passionless face the cheerless complexion of polished 
 marble ! — her air is cold, — and her breath upon our little 
 floral world 's a frost ! She would freeze us, we say, and 
 we turn away to conjure up some genial and more glow- 
 
 , R ' ; 
 
IMAGINATION. 
 
 231 
 
 ing picture whore un train mel led Desire cuckllef. in the 
 drowsy luxury of heart's-content that less prudish dame, 
 Indulgence. 
 
 So much do our ideas partake of the venal, we are 
 scarcely able to comprehend ahlessing, and are too prone 
 in our ignorance and selfishness to mistake good, for ill ; 
 hlame, when we should commend ; and lament when wc 
 ought to rejoice. 
 
 As with Prudence, so with all the other ways of Provi- 
 dence : they may, and often do, seem harsh, and cold, and 
 unsympathetic; nevertheless, they are ministering, nourish- 
 ing agents of a Love, compared with which the noblest of 
 our own is but a peevish fancy — a base amour. With all 
 the sublime consistency, then, of a great, overruling affec- 
 tion, do these messengers perform their silent, thankless 
 part, as attributes of that Higher Compassion that, in the 
 effort to dissuade us from wrong-doing, would, through 
 these means, admonish, — but failing that, the task is 
 yielded to a Divinity who never fails, — and that is— Mercy! 
 
 Brutalized as we are, however, we can not dis- 
 criminate, and our habits and perceptions are not re- 
 fined enough to enable us to see in the moist eye of 
 Providence a diamond sparkling in pity there, whose 
 radiance is a reflex of the celestial fount. Even while 
 we sleep it falls, and what seems so like a frost to 
 us, is the tears of an all-prevailing Commiseration de- 
 scending, in a gentle ineffable balm of mist, through the 
 slumberous twilight earthward. — To relapsed but restless, 
 yearning nature, it is the harbinger of renewed vital- 
 
'? 
 
 232 
 
 REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 ity. — It is repast to the homeless and shelterless of 
 all dumb creation, and they return thanks in the son«; 
 01 the night-bird, in the purling stream, and in the 
 plashing waterfall. — It reinvigorates the tenderest plants, 
 and gives to the Violets their sweetest attributes of love- 
 liness. — It is the magic elixir that revives the drooping 
 Lily, and touching the ruby lips of Roses, its kiss is their 
 bloom. — It settles upon the twig and it leaves — It is 
 breathed upon the bud and it blossoms — and in the first 
 ardent sunbeam of early morn, blends and expands into 
 the perfect Flower ! ! 
 
 
 4<i 
 
 s 
 
 ^} 
 It 
 I. 
 
 Apropos of those phantom spirits to which I have re- 
 ferred, there is one amongst them we may not forget to 
 notice here ; and I may say, in its behalf, if there be any- 
 thing that is able to make the worship of mortals espe- 
 cially acceptable to the Reader of Hearts, it is that one 
 quality to which I desire in this connection to call parti- 
 cular attention. 
 
 Imagination may take us to the " Pearly Gates," but to 
 pass the Heavenly Wicket into Paradise, it is most essen- 
 tial to possess the " open sesame " of a spirit whose true 
 virtue is known only to the Custodian of purest love : — 1 
 mean, Sincerity. Of all the good traits that commend us to 
 approbation, this one is the strongest element in our pro- 
 pitiation, and however defective our title to h,voY, it is oui 
 highest claim to forgiveness. While Sincerity alone can 
 make intangible thought and intention prevail over ad- 
 
IMAGINATION. 
 
 233 
 
 verse deeds, its absence is a mortal defect in the most 
 graceful service, and while needing no adornment to make 
 it beautiful, the want of it is not atoned by the gorgeous 
 trumpery that embellishes its counterfeit. And here let us 
 observe, of that fashionably attired modern Serapis, whose 
 worship exalts Hypocrisy : its glory is the ostentatious 
 profession of a splendid creed ! — its prerogative, the pious 
 assumption of an organized power ! and its praise, forsooth , 
 such a " Deuni Laudamus," as makes the chanting of the 
 most imposing hymnal a chorus of melodized antagonisms, 
 whose sweetest strains are but too apt to be the blending 
 of false tongues, and the mockery of discordant hearts. 
 Then, indeed^ the sublimest Te Deum is only such a skil- 
 ful manipulation of sound waves as conspires with the 
 resonant qualities of the atmosphere tomake a musical tem- 
 pest in the air. — The vocal accompaniment, meanwhile, 
 combining in such a disturbance of Nature's tranquillity, 
 as turns silence into uproar, and above the grinding 
 of the ] iodern Juggernaut,* as we listen to the mimic 
 " weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth," we seem 
 to hear the shrieks of agonized spirits aping immola- 
 tion through the dulcet medium of a sound-mill. God does 
 not hear it — Christ does not hear it — it has none of that 
 hallowed volatility that can make it rise — it is propelled, 
 and does not reach beyond the compass of our own bodily 
 diversion. 
 
 But if there be a voice that awakens a responsive 
 echo in the other world, it is that of Sincerity ; and while 
 
 r:| 
 
 4 
 
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 h !■'<■; ': 1 
 
 * The organ. 
 
234 
 
 REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER 
 
 hi 
 
 "f 
 
 1*1 L. J 
 
 'J it : 
 
 1 r; 
 
 
 
 her symmetry reflected in us is the nearest likeness we 
 bear to the Supreme, so it is, I venture so confidently to 
 affirm, that the best efficacy in prayer is that nuitc 
 eloquence of ideal praise conceived by Sincerity in tlie 
 isolation of secret, silent tears : — it rises heavenwards on 
 the incense of an unburdened spirit, and blossoms at 
 the foot of the " Throne ! " — there it is breathed upon by 
 angels, and perfumes all Paradise ! • • 
 
 One reason for sincerity being so precious, perhaps, is 
 booause it is so rare. We do not possess it as a common 
 gift — it is lent to us — 'tis a borrowed attribute, or may 
 be a part of our better nature, that has undergone trans- 
 lation, and giving the hand back to the viler, wins it over 
 to confidence, love, and friendship. — Aye, 'tis that wealtli 
 of the most admirable which, by some kind magic, is re- 
 deemed from "Treasure Trove," — and out from beneath 
 the surface of what seems a bleak and barren soil, is 
 revealed the diamond, — the opal, — or that other mellow 
 grateful flame we see kindled from the juices of the cold 
 and clammy rock. _ 
 
 XXIII. ' 
 
 No; there is no exercise so exalting as a systematic, cheer- 
 ful cultivation of the ideal. While people, too, w^ho have 
 made the noblest use of it have been a class who would 
 rank in a fashionable and financial estimate as both poor 
 and common, we may presimie that it does not thrive only 
 in cases of leisure and afliuence ; and, therefore, within the 
 I'each of spme whose meagre allowance in other things 
 
IMAGINATION. 
 
 235 
 
 conveys the iiupiossion they arc nut "gifted, and that their 
 Hfctle store of treasure, even in a hopeful view, is goinj^ 
 through this world in bond. 
 
 The development of our corporeal inheritance may 
 he all very well in the attainment of muscular superi- 
 rity or wealth ; but then let it become, as it most gen- 
 erally does, the one absorbing object of existence, and 
 where shall we find in the whole ranire of fateful se- 
 (juence a more pitiable sight than the bankrupt creature 
 of commerce ; unless, indeed, it be that even more 
 saddening spectacle — the broken athlete. The former 
 was always dreading losses and ever haunted by the 
 gaunt spectre of ultimate poverty ; while in the case of 
 the latter, the slightest ailment is to him the dreaded 
 adinonisher of that greatest of all calamities, which is the 
 inevitable loss of his comeliness and strength. This applies 
 to all who set their store by property or physique. I 
 do not advise letting the body subserve the mind simply, 
 hut open the flood gates of the imagination, or at any 
 rate, do not batten them down ; and then basking in the 
 refulgent summer light that irradiates all ideal creation, 
 forofet the bodv altoofether. 
 
 Music, Painting, Writing, may be mentioned as a few 
 of the many pleasant hobbies offered the imagination to 
 dwell upon; and we may, by these means, acquire healthful 
 resources of pure enjoyment which, while they may not 
 he dissipated are infinitely more profitable to our moral 
 being and ]ieace-of-mind than the most successful money- 
 m£^,king. In^leed there is no subject viewed in this light 
 
 * 
 
 I* 
 
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 i 
 
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 1 
 
 
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 ^■fl 
 
236 
 
 KEVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 11 
 
 $i 
 
 
 
 M4 
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 k 
 
 -it 
 
 that does not offer an always increasing fund of whoU'- 
 soine attraction to counteract the too engrossing cares of 
 business, besides combining therewith, such retrieviii<f 
 graces as assuage those other more grievous bereaveiuonts 
 incident to life. 
 
 We may note, however, that to humanize the Imagin- 
 ation we must give it heart, and to individualize it w<; 
 must give it thought. While it is commendable to emulate, 
 we must admit, it is far nobler to originate, and better 
 even by hard thinking to bring into the world an indif- 
 ferent pattern, than by sheer force of copying to ei[uii\ 
 the finer standard. Persevering in this spirit the reward 
 of our exertion comes rather in the effort than in the 
 result, and hours, days, months, years glide smoothly and 
 happily by. We may be carrying forward other work, 
 but then we should not be so impatient to realize, as 
 otherwise we would be and are, in concentrating all our 
 faculties on the mere dice by which money is lost or won. 
 
 ■■'■ ■:-:■■ '-; XXIV. 
 
 The counsel herein contained may seem visionary and 
 impracticable ; I believe, nevertheless, it is not, and that 
 my view of the case is sustained by actual experience, as 
 illustrated by innumerable examples in the careers of our 
 noblest and greatest men. There is no doubt the relaxa- 
 tion of spirit Disraeli enjoyed in his writings and ideal 
 creations, was, and is still in retrospect, his greatest source 
 of pleasure and consolation, and not only the true secret 
 of his prolonged existence, but at the same time such an 
 
IMAGINATION. 
 
 237 
 
 inipoi'taiit auxiliary to his power aii<l usefulness, as has 
 conduced, in no ijniall measure, to his otlier successes. 
 Besides, too, is it not one of the finest traits in this man's 
 cliaracter, that beset, as he has always been, by so many 
 perplexing cares, he could so far to dismiss them all 
 as to be enabled in the midst of Hubbub to invoke Sere- 
 nity, and using his pen as the visible emblem of his ideal 
 witchery, to disclose the hidden and abundant riches of his 
 harassed mind (but exhaustless imagination), in a flow of 
 sentiment so graceful and satisfying as that which peico- 
 lates through " Vivian Grey," "Coningsby," or " Lothair !" — 
 Again, how little did Milton think about or care for his 
 Ijjindness in that resplendent vision and gorgeous revela- 
 tion of ' Paradise Lost!" — Ah, and how oblivious was Byron 
 to the soreness of his love or lameness, in the sweeter 
 amour and symmetry of the " Corsair ! " — as far from 
 native land, — on the crest of passion's billow, he smites 
 tlie pent up pinnacle with an ideal wand, and the breath 
 of the tempest, gathering up the disgorged wealth of 
 " deep blue ocean," scatters broadcast that lustrous shower, 
 whence in poetic sorcery is reclaimed only the glinting 
 splendor of the spray ! In the prodigality of imagina- 
 tion, those grosser jewels that will not float in air are left 
 to sink to earth, and naught is treasured butthose super- 
 nal tints that give to the magic mirror of the Mist the 
 })eerless image of its Rainbow. 
 
 Again, what mattered it to Tom Moore, that the nig- 
 gardly estimate of his market value drove him Avell nigh 
 to beggary— that in the midst of plenty he hungered — • 
 
 i 
 
 I 
 
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 I- 
 it 
 
 r 
 
2^8 
 
 llKVERtKS Oh* AN OLT) SMOKER. 
 
 
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 with a sumptuous 1)an([uet, like his " mt'lodies," set for 
 the world ! 
 
 So, too, of poor Bobbie Burns ; with his nei^^dibors and 
 (only since his death, his idolatrous) countrymen heap- 
 ing slandei"s on his head, he could be so blissfully in- 
 different to it all and so happy in introducing dear oM 
 *' Tam," that while all Scotlpnd scolded, he, the outlavvi'd 
 Burns, could retort upon them and their children, only 
 with such kindliness and good fellowship as — 
 
 *' Care, mad to see a man sa happy, 
 
 E'een drowned himsel amang the nappy, 
 As bees flee hame with lades o' treasure, 
 The minutes winged their way wi' pleasure ; 
 Kings may be blessed, but Tam was glorious 
 O'er a' the ills of life victorious." ' 
 
 Or take Goldsmith, — Enijfland's <jreat hearted vajxrant anil 
 the world's "prince of poets!" — he who,amid the sneers and 
 contempt of the more industrious devotees of pious job- 
 bery, could record sentiments so beautiful, so sublime as 
 blend in the harmonious song of the " Deserted Village." 
 Aye, how much nobler was his " shiftless " preparation for 
 the final end, meandering down into the " vale " with siuli 
 thoughts thrilling through his soul, tingling in his heart, 
 and vibrating on his lips, as come to us like the distant 
 chime of monastery bells, in a strain so sweet as that 
 which tells of that once fair Auburn : — 
 
 " When oft at evening's close, _: 
 Up yonder hill the village murmur rose ; 
 There, as l pass'cl with careless steps and slow. 
 The mingling notes came soften 'd from below ; 
 
1MA(}INATI0N. 230 
 
 Thu Hwaiii respoiiHivo an the milkmaid HUiig, 
 Tho sober hurd that lowM to moot tliuir youii{{ ; 
 The noiay geese tliat gabbled o'er the pool, 
 The playful children just let loose from school ; 
 The watch dog's voice thr.t bay'd tho whispering wind, 
 And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind ; 
 These all in sweet confusion sought the shade, 
 And tillM each pause the ni;.'htingale had nuide.'* 
 
 And then, too, in lapse of time, of its desolation, in that 
 exijuisite lament, wliich hespeaks at once the illusicm ami 
 disencluintment of youth and old aj^e. Alas ! it was only 
 the dream of a vanishe<l abode and the exile returning to 
 realize the vision that solaced long years of banishment, 
 finds his goal a solitude, and pillowing his hijad upon a 
 stone, thus repines : 
 
 '* In all my wanderings round this world of care, 
 In all my griefs — and God has given my share — 
 T still had hopes my latest hours to crown, 
 Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down ; 
 To husband out life's taper at the chjse, 
 And keep the Hame from wasting by repose : 
 I still had hopes, for pride attends us stil), 
 Amidst the swains to show my book-learn'd skill ; ^ 
 
 Ar«)und my fire an evening group to draw, 
 And tell of all I felt and all I saw : 
 And, as a hare whom hounds and horns pursue, 
 * Pants to the place from whence at first he Hew, 
 I still had hopes, my long vexations pjist. 
 Here to return — and die at home at lusty 
 
 "■■ ,- XXV. /. . :,-.-'" 
 
 ~ Here we may observe, apropos of the cases instanced 
 above, that it is erroneous to consider all mere bodily dis* 
 
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240 
 
 REVERIES OV AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
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 comfoitor pain, su Muring, — at least in that crude sen.se in 
 which we coiiniioiily regard ami [>ityit jukI hoM'cveroj*- 
 pOHed our circumstances nuiy be to the hackneye<l notion 
 of enjoyment, thcjre is, or may be through the medium of 
 tliat higher intellect pertaining to my theme, a source of 
 deliglit that can make us indifferent and oblivious to mere 
 physical drawbacks. Many fallacies of laute creation, 
 tending to a wrong im[)ression of what is happiness, ob- 
 tains from such a})petizing propensities as liave pictured 
 a land " flowing with milk and honey," and a paradise 
 peopled with amorous maids. To corroborate the truth 
 of this, we have only to invoke the shades of that carnivo- 
 rous tribe who was kept wandering an indefinite period in 
 order that the people thereof, while being admonished of 
 their error concerning an eaiiihly " Eldorado," might dis- 
 abuse their minds of the monstrous assumption then ob- 
 taining, that the higher Kingdom of God should he 
 prostituted to gratify the lowest propensities in man. 
 Then, allowing their conception of the blessed goal, chas- 
 tened and elevated by long and severe ordeal, to have 
 attained the nobler perfection of the true ideal, it is in 
 accord with the policy herein advocated, that the realization 
 should have been deferred, and by making their " pro- 
 mised land " an ever receding mirage, the so called " Chil- 
 dren " had been saved the more pitiable catastrophe of 
 disenchantment. So, Moses, whom we all commiserate 
 for not having reached the delectable region which his 
 imagination and eloquence had so often depicted, was 
 more blessed in the exile of his mountain retreat than all 
 
 y • m 
 
IMAGINATION. 
 
 241 
 
 the I «8t ot Israel. Nay, it is pKuMing, as well to the instincts 
 of humanity as to the purposes of illustration, to assume 
 that the mis;,'uioie(l good man in ({uoHtion, experienced in 
 liis denial and hanishnient, not the wrath of the Maj^ter as 
 we are led to Iwlievc, hut a prolongation of that ideal feli- 
 city that made the whereabouts of the body a secondary 
 consiiloration, — aye, and his spiritual destiny a gladsome 
 ])erspective far exceeding any tiling in the exuberant fancy 
 of the tlesh ! 
 
 I have referred to Bunyan in another place ; but apro- 
 pos of Imagination, T would for the sake of illustration 
 once more recall the spirit of the venerable Evangelist, as 
 it shone in the night of its greatest apparent travail. 
 ]jet us go back to the time when Bunyan lived, and 
 take a peep at him in his incarceration. This picture has 
 been drawn so many times it is in the minds of all, and I 
 will not reproduce it here; but it strikes me we need not 
 sympathize with him in his lonely cell, when v/e consider 
 how his mind was employed. Ts it possible he could have 
 been unhappy with such ideas teeming in his brain as 
 inspired Pilgrim's Progress ? Nay, we may sympathize 
 with him, but pity him — never ! There was a feast in the 
 creation of that Work of his, which made bread and water, 
 and the hard desert of a donjon, a treat that the gourmands 
 of Jjouis Fourteenth might be teased with the dreamy ink- 
 ling of but never realize ! — aye, that the gluttons, who 
 basked in the glowing zenith of Imperial Rome, might envy 
 Ijut nevei attain ! Indeed, their pleasure, in comparison 
 with hLs inspiration, had made the most delightsome 
 
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242 
 
 JltVfcUlKS Ol: AN OLD hMuKKU. 
 
 'W 
 
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 raptuiH^ i)f tlie Hesh, simply pining in ftinai and its 
 HweieHt thrillH conciotiMcd all into unu ox([ui.slti3 pang u 
 — Yaum ! 
 
 Or, to bring my illustration nearer liome, to mark 
 t.he ditterencc between the material and tlie ideal, 
 what a i)0or famishe<l pro<luct must be the grand work 
 above contemplated when contrasted with that prolific 
 luxury of thought of which it h, comparatively speaking, 
 the barren, puny «)ffspring ! At the same time, how ad- 
 mirable, how iiiHnite, how (Jod-like does the Imagination 
 jippear when in the most brilliant efforts of man to ma- 
 terialize he seeks to clothe it in the mean garb of 
 language ! It is throwing a dirty veil of cloud over the 
 " starry litter of the moon 1" Then, too, while the interval 
 between each of these celestial gems is spanned by mil- 
 lions of miles of hidden splendor, nevertheless, as here 
 and there, twinkling through the vapory bank, we dis- 
 cern one solitary baby smile, it is in rapture we exclaim, 
 — " how oautiful are the Heavens \" 
 
 There is an elasticity about the mind — a volatility 
 about thought — that bids defitince to language ; and 
 the effort to catch the glowing rays of transient vis- 
 ions that pass in regal bewildering pageantry be- 
 fore us, offei^s to the most skilful adept and to the 
 most nimble play of words, oidy the poor, barren re- 
 compense that comes of the child's grip on the brittlt; 
 mirror of some giant bubble. Aye, it is the condensed 
 puddle of a dispelled rainbow ! Applying such an esti- 
 mate as this, then, to an imagination whose puddle is a 
 
lMA(i I NATION. 
 
 243 
 
 Pilj^riin H Pro^ni'ss, ati«l it gives us a )»roa«lor, U»ttor con- 
 ception of a mind and an attrilmto, which it may )iavo 
 seonied we were praising over tioridly. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 In conclusion, we may notice that one of th«^ most 
 seductive of all the luilliant progeny of Imagination is, 
 that sweet etherial creature we call Illusion. She is all 
 the more dear, too, strange to say, hecause she is deceitful; 
 one trait in her angelic nature heing that what in the 
 meaner characteristics of our poor mortality had heen a 
 fault, with her is a virtue. She is nearly allied to Charity, 
 and her mission Is as the sun-heam from the mother-orh, 
 and her smile to brighten and to soothe. 
 
 What was hopk in youth, later, is saved from Dl- 
 SPAIR by becoming illusion, and in age, still vain of 
 what we no longer possess we cleave to the grateful 
 cheat : Thus many charming features which in Reality 
 have vanished forever away, are reclaimed in Tmngina 
 tion, and we cherish the phantom till it almost seems a 
 Fact. The allusions of h(;althy people are almo^t 
 always pleasant, and even in tlu? case of those who 
 are ill, the most consoling of all comforters; insomuch 
 that, even in the last stagesof " Cijnsumption," we play- 
 fully dickey with Destiny for a new lease of life, and 
 to the end enjoy the unctious balm of thinking all is 
 well. Blessed are these illusions; they are tlu; holi- 
 days of the soul, and, an) id all the threatening ordeals 
 
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244 
 
 REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 
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 that frown upon us, lend sunshine to hearts that would 
 laugh and be gay. — Aye, and from this ideal realm of bliss 
 to earth and reality, we drop into a purgatory of tiesli 
 and pain. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 EPILOOUE. 
 
 Do you see that poor old mendicant woman there, 
 lying prostrate just off the high-w^ay ? See ! she with the 
 bleached locks and tattered laiment, with her bare head 
 pillowed on that mean old bundle. I saw" her not long 
 since as I passed ; she was sitting up then and looked so 
 worn and miserable and sad. I noticed, too, she had taken 
 something from her pack and was regarding it so intently 
 she did not see me although I was quite near. No doubt 
 it was a keep-sake, or something of that kind; because 1 
 was certain I saw tears in the poor old thing's eyes — but 
 then, what a luxury there must have been, even in the 
 briny Hood, it seemed bring of mellowing, dissolving recol- 
 lections ! Those precious tears ! — Crystal drops of nature's 
 balsam, that follow the cold iron and jagged gash wrought 
 in the hard knocks of the world ! But behold her now, — 
 prone and tram J uil, — and see too, what a placid almost happy 
 look ! Ah, what potent pacific could have breathed its 
 drowsy incense over that perturbed spirit, — what soothing 
 spell, — that with all the gladsome obliviousness of sleep, 
 there should be mingled such a rejoicing sense of perfect 
 wakefulness. She seems not to know she is cold, and tlic 
 
IMAfU.VATrOK. 
 
 245 
 
 chill aiituimi }iir of fiiomllcssnuss iiii<l poverty lias vcored 
 around. The trance may have lasted but a minute, hut in 
 tluittime what a grateful metamoiphosis! The keen No- 
 vember blast tugging at those white hairs, is to her, now, 
 only the soft aroma of June — and see how those seared and 
 battered lineaments relax ! — that liad been a smile on any 
 other face, on hers, it's more a look of pain — a strange 
 anomalous look, as of an aching heart s'lULjing to smile 
 at the pleasures of others who repine. J'ii)).: and trouble 
 have long since placed their dreaded seal upon that 
 shrivelled cheek; and now, we see only t] ^. wintery aspect 
 where once the roses bloomed. That look — that sort of 
 smile — may once have been a mirthful ringing laugh ! — 
 that form, elastic and comeh'^, — and she, have coquetted in 
 all the playfultyranny of conscious beauty. But what is she 
 thinking of now, I wonder — what vagary of "bitter sweet" 
 in that absent mind — what tender thoughts of loved and 
 lost make that expression so pathetically divided twixt 
 smilesand tears. — What rummaged leaves were those she 
 turned? — what impressof sweet memories saw she there? — 
 revealed in the light of long ago, — but pictured on that 
 broken tablet and retained in life gloaming, — as autumn 
 foliage, in decay, takes and holds the fairer tints of sum- 
 mer skies ! Ah, I have it now ! — The magic of an invisi- 
 ble hand has beckoned her back, and now she is with 
 that little prattling one, seen again through a long vista 
 of troubled wanderings. — And how she beams upon and 
 fondles it as of old — that fair, laughing, dimpled cherub! 
 And how completely forgotten are all those tearful years 
 
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 REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 he has l)(3en laid away in tliat cra<lle i'ucke<l by angels ! 
 Nay, how beautiful is the mercy shed upon her now — how 
 grateful the respite of that dream, in which her old eyes 
 behold, in the full glory of her blushing pride, that tender 
 blossom which, in the hey-day of her girlish joy, she 
 pressed to her lips and inhaled in its sweet, fresh frag- 
 rance, the first dawning consciousness of mother-love!! 
 Is it only a dream ? Yes ; a mere Illusion ; — hut do not 
 wahe her, let hey filer 2> ! , i , 
 
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 eHISELHURST* 
 
 -•\ ,. I. ■ : ,:- 
 
 FOR some time previously T had been looking forward 
 with considerable eagerness to the 10th of March, 
 on which day at Chiselhurst a gi'and fete was to take 
 ])lace in celebration of the coming of age of Prince Louis 
 Napoleon, heir in exile to the throne of Franc(\ It 
 had been made for some time before coming off* the sub- 
 ject of editorials in the newspapers, besides being com- 
 mented on a good deal in a (juiet way, and really it might 
 be looked forward to, it seemed to me, as one of the great 
 ])olitical events of the day. Under the circumstances, 
 1 was l>ound nothing should prevent my being there. 
 
 On the morning of the sixteenth I got away early, as 
 liad some distance to walk to reach the station of the 
 South-Eastern Railway, but made a miss nearly at tlie 
 outset, and lost the train at Sydenham Hill. Having over 
 an hour to wait, I put in the time in an easy stroll to 
 Penge, the next place en route, after which, taking the 
 down express at 10.20, had a quick, pleasant run to Bickley, 
 Getting off at the very pretty station which dots the line at 
 
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 'Written some time before the death of the Prince Imperial. 
 
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250 
 
 REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
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 this point, my further destination wjis indicated hy a 
 church .spire, glintin<^ in tlie sunlight, away to the left a 
 cotiple of miles. This offered another enjoyable opportunity 
 for a "constitutional," and after half-an-hour's hrisk exer- 
 cise I came in sight of ( 'amden Place, where the Bonapartes 
 reside. On nearing tlie town many signs of a fete-day 
 attracted my notice : there was that hurrying to and fio 
 which denotes in these rural solitudes something unusual, 
 and that enquiring look on the faces of many that 
 evinces both the presence of strangers, and the expectation 
 of something especially interesting about to transpire. 
 
 What struck me, also, as a somewhat novel sight was the 
 French " Tricolor," which was flying in a number of 
 places, — there being (|uite a little colony of Imperialists 
 living at this time at ( -hiselhurst. It was the first time, 1 
 think, I had ever seen this banner, except perhaps in 
 some fantastic display ; but now it was hoisted by tlu* 
 devoted followers of that identical party, and unfurled in 
 honor of the nearest living representative of that extra- 
 ordinary genius, whose pride and prowess, whose ambition 
 and triumph, have made it the most famous and popular 
 emblem in French history. I was not long in ascending 
 the gentle acclivity leading to the picturesque, gorse- 
 covered plateau above : this forms an attractive common, 
 at the w^est corner of which is Camden Place. 
 
 My first glimpse of this now famous dwelling, impressed 
 me with its being an extremely fine old homestead ; and al- 
 though the l^uilding itself may lack some of the more 
 superfluous attributes of a^randeur, these are all the moie 
 
CHISKLHURST. 
 
 251 
 
 suUstaiitially cunipensatocl for in the general sunoundin<jfs, 
 Tlie grounds to the rear arc slo})ing, and sink grachially 
 down to a valley beyond, in a magnificent sweep of rich, 
 undulating meadow an<l timber-land ; in the interval of 
 which is unfoMed to our refreshed and gladdened vision, 
 a pleasing variety of rural scenery, framed, as it were, in 
 a continuous wealth of superb, English landscape. Not the 
 least, too, of the worth)' living features in the prospectjan*! 
 grazing and feasting on the royal spread of ten<ler horbage, 
 are the flocks of fine sheep and blooded cattle, the^ like of 
 which one sees nowhere except in this favored land of 
 merry England. The house itself is surrounded by, and 
 almost hidden away behind, a deep, sombre rampart of 
 rich, dark foliage, — the splendi<l product of a grand array 
 of j)rolific elms and oaks, that stand guard over and hedge 
 it round ; constituting a fitting syml)ol of that benignant 
 hospitality, that makes this place a safe and princely 
 asylum as it is of royalty and exile. 
 
 On my arrival, 1 found a great crowd of pe(^ple gathered 
 about — some on horseback, many in carriages, but mostly on 
 foot, and the road through the common to St. Mary's Chapel 
 waswell lined on both sides all alongthe way forhalf-a-mile. 
 Inthis little chapel, which is a perfect gemin its way, are de- 
 posited the remains of Napoleon III. I had lieen there before 
 and seen within the alcove to the left of the aisle, the place 
 where the Emperor lies entombed ; but on this occasion 
 the church was so crowded I made no attempt to squeeze 
 in, though much desired to have a glimpse of the ser- 
 vices being performed there. As it was, made haste to 
 
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 REVERIES i)F AN f>M) SMOKER. 
 
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 return to CaiiKlcn Place, and .strai^j^litway found luy.self 
 liesct by a new obstacle. I had beard somewhere before 
 this late liour, that admission was to be regulated by tiek«'t, 
 but I always avoid bothering myself with that sort (»t 
 thing when I can lielp it, so the matter of looking after 
 this little technicality went by default. 1 afterwards as- 
 certained, however, that these permits were oidy granted 
 through favor to those who intended making the pil- 
 grimage from France to the Napoleonic shrine, and who 
 being no <loubt interested in the restoration, were, as a 
 matter of course, people of more or less political and social 
 importance. 8o possessing none of these qualifications 
 my petition as an outsider, on the ground of mere idle 
 cui'iosity, might not after all have been entertained. 
 
 Now, however, I began to labor under the disagreeal»le 
 consciousness that my not having a ticket would be likely 
 to interfere somewhat, and that considerable might be de- 
 pending on this little flaw in my arrangements. I con- 
 fess my apprehensions were far from being soothed, when 
 on approaching the main gates I saw the great crowd fac- 
 ing those frowning and inhospitable portals ; there, too, as 
 a reinforcement to these towering barriers of iron, was an 
 even tougher-looking line of policemen, standing guard, 
 and turning rudely and peremptorily away, all but the 
 lucky ones who could flourish what was now become a 
 very interesting novelty in cards. I had never before been 
 in such a hot- bed of French men and women and r/ar{'ov^ 
 as I now found myself. Not a word of English could he 
 heard ; I spoke to several, but they only shook their heads. 
 
CHISELHI'KST. 
 
 253 
 
 Hoys were selling French papers, luulges, hunches of vio- 
 lets and photographs — all in French, and it was for all the 
 world as it' I had plii?npe(l right down into the midst of 
 the excited populace of Paiis, and a inoh at that. There 
 was a motley crowd of, comparatively speaking, long- 
 shore ritfratf, who had lik«' myself, made the mistake of 
 thinking their physiognomy would pass them ; but the 
 mid-current, winding in sluggish uninterrupted progress 
 through this outer fringe, all, without exception, had 
 tickets. I observed this with a sinking heart and it ma<le 
 my chances seem more as they had been from the first, — 
 that is to say, the slimmest and bluest. At the same time 
 it was aggravating to see how can^lessly and indifferently 
 these other people handled their cards,and to note the magic 
 tluence those bits of pasteboard had on the iron visage and 
 stony heart cf the police officials who received them : ah, 
 liow precious they seemed to us, those cherished [)ass- 
 ports to the inner shrine of imperial exile. 
 
 II. 
 
 
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 I did not try actually to force my way, because I saw 
 others try it, and become suddenly and effectually dis- 
 a|)pointed ; found too, that coaxing, and a modest "tip" 
 generally so fertile in the opening u}) of ways and means, 
 were here of no avail, and then I began to feel very despon- 
 dent indeed, but all the moie anxious to get in. In short, T 
 found the ord(;r in regard to tickets imperative, and 
 1 igidly and cruelly enforced, and as a natural consecjuence 
 
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 I* ! fill 
 
254 
 
 RKVKRIKS OF \N OLD SMOKKR. 
 
 
 I was bitterly chagrined, and disappointed. They nixy 
 •' misery likes company," and according to that I ought to 
 have ))een liappy, from the numV)er .similarly situated to 
 myseli ; at least there was consolation in knowing I was 
 not alone. There was a host of peo|)le 1 now discovered 
 of various nationalities, w ho had come in from London) 
 probably as I had, to this feast — some with two or three 
 ladies apiece, and all lookin<^ dismayed and crushed. 
 
 A bright idea struck me ; and suddenly and secretly ex- 
 ultant, I sank my hand deep into my pants' pocket, and 
 drewforth a talisman in the shape of a cai'd case. Ah ! what 
 a great thing it is to be thoughtful and wise — and after all 
 " what's in a name I " • T simply put in additi(jn to mine, 
 United 8t os of America, and naturally thought it would 
 take lik( hot cakes ; but I reckoned, alas, without mint' 
 host. All intent on the succ« ss of my little enter- 
 prise I had not noticed a great number of others em- 
 ployed in the same way. By dint of most praise wort) ly 
 ))erseverance, and all soits of dumb-show, managed to 
 beckon towards me. an old fellow who was looking on 
 from within, and no doubt watching with self gratulation 
 the chagrin, and wretchedness of those outside in the 
 cold. Got him pretty well in reach of my fond embrace, 
 and stuck my card under his nose with the modest re- 
 quest that he would take it to — not the Empress but 
 some})ody — anybody — was not particulai whom ; even in- 
 sinuated he might keep it himself if- well, J had got 
 quite as far as that, when a tremendous rush was nifi'l*' 
 for my place, and my man ; and such a flourish of cards, 
 
MIIHPLHIRST. 
 
 255 
 
 and HUel. a clamor ot* tongues, in a score of ditt'fn'nt hui- 
 jifuagea 1 never heanl before. 
 
 I gently reproved and exjxjstulated, and lost no time 
 in trying to reinforce my (^laini to precedence under tho 
 un^wpular rule of one at a time, but only o\erawe<l two 
 or three deep of the foremost tiles ; those btliiud were be- 
 yond the power of persuasion, and on they came like mad. 
 The would-be bearer of my compliments made a rush 
 back for dear life ; and 1 made a frantic viYort to rescue 
 my hat, which I caught a glimpse of drifting away over 
 a sea of heads. When I got all together again — still out- 
 side, but gazing wistfully insi<le — I riveted my eye on the 
 same old chap in whom I thought 1 had detected a glim- 
 mer of interest in my attairs ; but it was no use to beckon 
 him any more ; he no doubt felt he had had a narrow 
 escape from being mobV>ed, and not unlikely did me tho 
 injustice to think I had wantonly abused his ctmtidence. 
 Well, I retired a short distance and sought solace in 
 glowering u{)on my competitors in tlie ci'owd, which by 
 this time had meekly subsided. N( ticed a few who 
 were so fortunate as to be chaperons, taking the advice 
 of their female comforters, but 1 was not blessed in 
 that way ; and the first thing I did after recovering my 
 presence of mind, w^as to put away my little cai-d, which 
 by this time, I need not add, I was somewhat ashamed of. 
 Held it w^ith becoming modesty under my coat-tail— a 
 course which 1 innocently ado})ted as most eft'ectually to 
 conceal it from observation, and to enable me to produce it 
 at a moment's notice. It was about this time I discovered 
 
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 nKVKIUF-S OF AN OLU SMOKER. 
 
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 i-i 
 
 additional proof tliat 1 ha<l not been a pioneer in this new 
 <l(wl^e pertaininjjf to tlietani huHinesH, and it was not lonj; 
 liet'on' I detected several of those around holdin^^eardsinliki! 
 manner. The speetaele disgusted me too miieli to persevere 
 longer in so mean an tixpedient ; it was ludierou.s emm^'h, 
 though, that it miglit have been amusing, but for the 
 thought of my luird fate ; meanwhile we all looked <h'!nun^ 
 enough, and a band of music striking up about this tiiiu; 
 set us all oft' ay:ain. 
 
 It was not till I had decided upon the sensible plan of 
 going home, and thus avoiding any further aggravation in 
 the nuitter, that I betliought me of a lane which led away 
 round one side of the estate — I had been through it once 
 before on the way to Shortlands — why not make a Hank 
 movement, I asked myself, and come up in the rear i No 
 sooner said than <lone — I slipped (piietly away. Feaiv<l 
 the place would be guarded, but luckily for me it was 
 not; so, passing thiough to the right-rear of the grounds, 
 I completed tlie detour by crossing over to the other side, 
 through a ravine, to the cover of a clump of trees, whirli 
 I now had between me and the rabble. So far 1 had met 
 with no opposition : in crossing the fields, it is true, I start- 
 led half a dozen lazy looking cows out of a pleasant 
 trance — they Hirted their tails and stared at me languidly, 
 but relapsed very soon into their accustomed trancpiil- 
 lity, and I left them in the drowsy luxury of a stand-u}) 
 dream. 
 
 Seeing my way fairly clear now, and my game well in 
 hand, my anxiety abated somewhat, and I decided to have n 
 
CmSKMfrRST. 
 
 i':»7 
 
 bit of Mofiu'tliiiijj to eiit, in ciih<5 then? iiii;(!it not iMMinntlinr 
 Ko j^oo<! a chance. I liad taken tho pnM'aution to ln*in^ 
 along a j^ooil supply of provtMulor, an«l tiuni(i<( my atten- 
 tion for a short tini«^ exchisively to my sainlwich«'M, 
 made short work of them and started on a;^ain. My pUin, 
 of course, was to i^ain an entrance hy the j^arden in the 
 rear. Luckily I hit fairly upon the wicket h'adiri;^ to my 
 f^oal, and hed<^o an<l sln'ul> disouisiui; my movements, 
 I threw back the holt — walked very delil)erately in, ami 
 then, ** Richard was himself again ! " 
 
 III. 
 
 It was not without a thrill of pleasant emotion that I 
 now found myself within the private grounds of her Im- 
 [)erial Majesty. T did not stop to apostrophize, hut pro- 
 ceeded along slowly, taking a close and leisurely survey 
 of everything that fell within the rang*' of my nuich 
 favored vision. At first it was a sort of tiny forest, a 
 miniature JJois de Buulotrne, after which cam** the evi- 
 deuces of a less sturdy but even more beautiful growth. 
 Indeed the grounds were much more extensive and finer, 
 than I hael anticipated. Splendid trees, rare shrubs 
 spring Howers, greeted the eye on all sides, and turn 
 which way you would, you saw, here a rustic arbor, 
 ingeniously modelled, tempting one to linger and rest — 
 or there, a charming grotto, all arched over with blos- 
 soming vines and thick, dark foliage, whei'e the dazzling 
 rays of a noonday-sun were tempered to the soft, grateful 
 twilight of eventide! All fascinated the eye and beguiled 
 
 
 
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 the senses with a delicious feeling- of enjoyment, whicli I 
 felt to a great degree was owing to the spell cast over 
 everything that conies within the influence of two ningic 
 vords — Napoleon — Eug<3nie. 
 
 I saw a good many devotees plucking flowers and leaves 
 to cany back to France as souvenirs ; managed, m3'self, to 
 get a few violets,and then, after a short time most pleasantly 
 spent, passed along to the lawn, and mixed with the throng 
 assembled there. Many were promenading, others sitting 
 or standing around in groups, and all in animated conver- 
 sation, of which I was not at a loss to guess the purport. 
 I was, indeed, in the very midst of the Bonapartist camp, 
 and looking about me felt, not without a tingling soni*> 
 where, and a slightly quickening pulse, I was among the 
 children of the " Old Guard," and cheek -by -jole with the 
 family of the " Little Corporal !" Aye, there was I, liter- 
 ally hemmed in b}^ a host of battle-tried heroes, who,witli 
 their domestic retinue, composed probably the most influ- 
 ential and devoted of all the faithful defenders of the Im- 
 perial cause. 
 
 Amongst these were men and soldiers, distinguished in 
 })olitics and in war. "Jlie former, representing in the higli- 
 est degree the jjersonnel of what was a short time befoie, 
 the most accoin})lished and brilliant civic establishment in 
 Europe, or the world ; the latter, the dismembered fugi- 
 tive elements of the most splendid martial array of anei- 
 ent or modern times. Nor was I unmindful of the fact 
 that there v/ere titles walking about there, which, with 
 their princely accessories and noble estates, had been 
 gleaned from the classic soils of Italy, and Syria, and 
 
rfllSRLTIURST. 
 
 250 
 
 %ypt, fiMiits of the gory Holds of Maivngo, and Acre, 
 an<l the Pyramids. There, too, were the latest scions 
 of distinguished families, who could have joined hands 
 in legitimate consort, and hohnohbed in kindred suc- 
 cession, and recognised each other back to the dim age 
 when chivalry only began to dawni, and France to learn 
 that art in war which has won her, as mistress, imj)urish- 
 able renown. All who were not present in person were 
 represented, we may be assured, by worthy substitutes, 
 who 'J I did not know, the Prince and Empress (I noticed 
 later) did, an<l received most cordially. The reading of 
 an address to the Prince and his reply came oft* in a 
 large tent provided for the purpose ; but I was too late 
 for that, and missed the aggravation it would otherwise 
 have been to me, not to have had a front seat, where I 
 could have devoured, with greedy eyes, the whole Bona- 
 parte family. As it was, by dint of a little effectual elbow- 
 ing, inflicted with an apprc priate air of absent-mindedness, 
 I succeeded in securing a glimpse of the distinguished 
 personages as they crossed the lawn on the w^ay back into 
 the drawling-room. After this the Prince and Empress 
 were to receive deputations from the different depart- 
 ments of France, all of which were represented ; a num- 
 ber of others, also, were to receive the honor of presenta- 
 tion. Many of these were influential politicians and gal- 
 lant officers, who had stood together in high places under 
 the Emperor. They formed in procession and went in by 
 sections. Many wore decorations — the '' Legion," especi- 
 ally, being well represented ; and all bore with becoming- 
 decorum the somewhat-trying scrutiny of the tremendous 
 
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 stretched round two sides of the hoi'se, to keep the >vay 
 clear leading to the entrance. 
 
 I, too, watched these once pampered favorites of for- 
 tune, now temporarily discarded, and regarded each coun- 
 tenance with an interest and sympathy most reverential 
 and profound. Some bore the marks of hard-fighting and 
 rough-service; all were in plain clothes, although many still 
 belonged to the army, and had come over incognito on ac~ 
 count of an order of the French War-Department, forbid- 
 ding their officers to be in England between the twelfth 
 and twentieth of March. A great many carried bou- 
 quets, — some, wreaths, with here and there a banner ; 
 all looked unutterable devotion and determination and 
 seemed regardless of everything but the one precious 
 thought that they" were about to pay their " devoirs " 
 to their beloved Empress, and ofi'er anew their unaltered 
 allegiance to the Prince and sovereign hope of all. My 
 attention was divided between this spectacle and the 
 doors and windows of the house, through which I tried 
 in vain to catch a glimpse of what was going on within ; 
 but we were too far off to distinguish anything, and I 
 now began to feel a mortal craving curiosity to see the 
 interior or even to obtain a glance into the hall. The 
 thought had suggested itself, whether I might not wedge 
 into some part of the procession and get a look in that 
 way ; I wondered what might be the result of such an 
 undertaking, but dismissed the idea as being too hazard- 
 ous. It seemed altogether too pokeiish — was afraid that ior 
 
CHISELHURST. 
 
 261 
 
 •:( 
 
 a novice like ine to join the " Legion of Honour," without 
 the appalling initiation of powder and shot and imperial 
 compliment, might involve the asking of a few ombnrras- 
 siug questions, which would make things uncomfortably 
 liot, and the upshot of which would most likely he, I should 
 have to walk precipitately back, with the countless eyes 
 of a gaping multitude fixed in derision upon me. 
 
 It was too distressing to think of ; still, good Dame 
 Fortune had been very accommodating thus far, and I 
 was rashly tempted to task her indulgence a little 
 further ; besides, now that I thought of it, I really 
 liad some claim in the award of privilege to martial 
 honors. Had I not had my " baptism of fire ? " jew- 
 elled decorations might rank first, but barring these, 
 ugly scars, won in honorable conflict, might pass, under 
 a clean shirt, ai>iong old soldiers; and if hard pressed 
 I could bare my bosom and point to a syndjol there 
 well known in the masonry of warriors — aye, one which 
 speaks in a language the tongue may not utter, a tribute wel- 
 come with the brave, and means, though the words be not 
 expressed, " gagne au champ d'honneur ! " Yes I that is all 
 very fine to think of, but at the same time it appeared 
 pleasanter in reverie than in practice. In the meantime 
 1 ol)served they did not all seem ac(iuainted with each 
 other, — at least, each, for the most part, kept silent and to 
 himself; besides there was more or less confusion till they 
 got near the entrance, all of which seemed in favour of my 
 passing in amongst them without being challenged. In 
 fact, it was naturally taken for granted no one would 
 venture to intrude without some special claini to impeiia] 
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 I reconnoitred about sometime for a favorable chance 
 to get through inside the rope ; my curiosity mean- 
 while getting stronger, I was beginning to feel impatient 
 and fool-hardy enough for any thing. About this time 
 I noticed there was a nairow opening where the different 
 deputations went in, and an imposing-looking genius 
 stood there with pencil and paper passing them through 
 and keeping tally; but sometimes four or five would 
 push on by in their impatience, without ))aying mucli 
 if any attention to the excited functionary who guarded 
 the breach. I was not long in perceiving that this was the 
 particular style and example I must endeavor to emulate ; 
 and led on by a cold-blooded audacity I never knew be- 
 fore I was capable of, edged up close, got a good ready, 
 and when the next rush in that way was made, was borne 
 inside ; a Frenchman on my right and left and one be- 
 fore and behind. In this order we all moved forward 
 half-way to the entrance door, under the admiring gaze of 
 the folks outside ; whose homage I now enjoyed, or rather 
 was compelled to submit to, on a par with the rest. 
 
 V. 
 
 Our progress was anything but lively ; the head of our 
 column would advance from time to time as the way 
 cleared, and we in the rear would close up smartly as 
 chance offered. It was literally a "stern chase," and 
 even worse than the proverbially " slow one ; " intensified 
 perhaps in my case, T)y that unusual strain on the nervous 
 system, incident to onv 'P jay |;yr ular situation, and this 
 
CHISKMIUHST. 
 
 203 
 
 was tar from soothed in perceiving or fancying a certain 
 anioiint of i)olito inquisitiveness about me. 
 
 Up to this time, I had had veiy little hope of getting 
 throiidi. Was in constant dread, and all alon^^ watchinor 
 with a restless eye and troubled s[)iriteach shifting move- 
 iin'iit of the crowd ahead; expecting each moment to see the 
 writhing monster resolve itself into the grim spectre of out- 
 raged propriety, and to behold the glimmering, beguiling 
 prospect before me transformed into a scroll, whereon I 
 sliould read in blighting characters, the dreadful warrant 
 for my expulsion. After turning the first corner of the 
 house to the left, it came my turn to pause befoie a window 
 tliere ; and looking into the drawing-room, where the recep- 
 tion was going on, was enabled to see everything nearly as 
 well as if I had been inside. I thought this very fortunate, 
 as at the start, only aspired to get a peep into the hal', 
 wliich I proposed to pass into, and out l)y the other door ; 
 hut after watching the proceedings for a short time, I 
 became so interested that all prudent resolves were for- 
 gotten. I was seized with the mad desire to get in 
 and indifterent to all considerations of propriety, I deter- 
 mined, let come what would, to follow the tide, and go 
 wlierever the rest did. 
 
 Well, we came at last to the entrance w here stood a pom- 
 pous-looking servant in formidable livery ; I began to fear 
 1 should have to produce my card again,but someone a little 
 in advance gave the " open sesame " — the different deputa^ 
 tions had a sort of chief at their head to attend to this sort 
 of thing, which was an arrangement I felt like applauding 
 — as it was, maiiitained a demure silence, and passed 
 
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 tlirough witli the rest The hall in which wc now 
 found ourselvovs was a 1 le one, — broad, lofty, and with 
 the doors of adjoinino- rooms thrown wide open, presented 
 the appearance of a spacious lobby. I noticed here, 
 besides the people assembled, many attractive decora- 
 tions and objects of vertu ; some fine bronzes and tro- 
 phies, many of tliom, no doubt, of pt'isonal, I mean Na- 
 poleonic, interest — also paintings which I only glanced 
 at, but would have liked a whole afternoon tostudvand 
 adniire. Aye, relics were they all of the Empire, and .sad, 
 (I could have wished touching) reminders of imperial, and 
 we may presume, happy days '' lang syne." Here, too, 
 were old baHle-flags, dilapidated and torn, and these espe- 
 cially struck me as being far from the least interestiiii,' 
 among many di.- tinguished features of the locality and 
 occasion. Appropriately draped, they seemed to me to 
 bear a peculiar significance ; they were not — like so many 
 other things tliatsimply awaken tender remembrances — me- 
 inentos over which to mourn, but symbols as well, throui,di 
 whose rents of shot and shell one sees the " silver lining 
 to the cloud" — and even out of those dreadful battle 
 scars there seemed to gleam quenchless rays of glorious 
 Jiope ! 
 
 yi. 
 
 Beyond, towards the other end of the hall were gath- 
 ered a distinguished company of ladies and gentlemen. 
 They were in groups, sitting or standingabout, conversing, 
 something after the fash ion of an "at home," only there was, 
 J noticed at once, a marked absence of gaiety. It is impos 
 
CmSELllUllST. 
 
 •2Go 
 
 sible to overcomo French vivacity, but there was a j^'cntle, 
 subdued air about them all liere now, as if tlie shadow of 
 a great troublt^ had fallen over them ; as, indeed, it had. 
 What a contrast to former occasions, it must have seemed 
 to them ; and what a contrast to the noisy set outside, it 
 seemed to me. No crowding, no jostling, but an easy, well- 
 bred decorum prevailed, that made every thing that was 
 said or done seem a refined and earnest expression of de- 
 ferential esteem and homage. 
 
 It would have been a grateful relief to me after the 
 excitement and confusion from which I had emerged, had 
 I not been all the more oppressed with the dreadful im- 
 pi'opriety I was conimitting. A little way down the hall, 
 we turned to the left through a doorway, and entered a 
 medium sized and very plain room, in which I noticed more 
 souvenirs and more interesting things. Over the mantel- 
 piece was a fine mirror, with a curiously wrought frame of 
 silver filagree, and among the articles of furniture two or 
 three camp-cliairs attracted my eye, one of which looked 
 as if it might have seen service under the first Napoleon. 
 T have no doubt there were many things that would 
 have been interesting objects to contemplate if I had had 
 time and could have known all about them ; but there 
 was no chance to get out a " Murray," or a " Bradshaw," 
 and I was left simply to look and wonder and imagine. 
 
 T was a little dashed at this period of our progress to 
 see my companions of the " Legion" doffing top-coats, and 
 poming out in full dress. 1 hjid on my best frock and 
 tried to look the enticing picture of juvenile innocence ; 
 but was far from feeling the swaggering assurance of a 
 
 111 
 
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 HKVKKIKS OK AN Ol.I) SMoKMIt. 
 
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 spoiled toddler, until presently I perceived one or two 
 others with morning coats, which relieved my mind a good 
 deal, and I at once liecame very much attached to them. 
 Adjoining this room was the drawing-room, where the 
 presentations were going on, and my eyes were already 
 turned in that direction ; I could see, there, the Empress 
 and Prince, and forijot all thouj^ht of embarrassment in 
 the rare and devoutly wished for spectacle. Then we all 
 resumed our places in colunni again, and prepared to move 
 forward; but some who had been in before us were now 
 coming out, and we paused. I had proceeded thus tar with- 
 out being asked one question, or having to utter a single 
 word ; it was the silence of discretion, persisted in with 
 conmiendable self-control, and endured with the noncha- 
 lance of outward calm and inward perturVrntion. I had 
 aniple reason to dread an cjvposd, which, at ariy moment 
 seemed inevitable ; indeed, I was compassed round in 
 jeopardy, and expected nothing less than to be col- 
 lared as an interloper, — scooped up, as it were, and 
 shovelled out ; and smilingly, placidly, I waited to be 
 2)ounced upon, — exterminated — blown to atoms by a 
 dreaded interrogatory, shot out of the mouth of some offici- 
 ous cannon. Thus did I scrutinize each successive phase 
 of my progress, with a tranrpiil heroism surprising in one 
 of my timid, retiring nature ; and to this day I marvel 1 
 should have presumed so far, and persevered so boldly. 1 
 was not unconscious of my danger, and though I saw my 
 peril, it found me by this time seemingly indifferent to my 
 fate, and all the more infatuated with " Destiny." Then 
 it was, I yielded to the sweet intoxication of an all absorl)- 
 
CHJSELllUKST. 
 
 207 
 
 iii«^' interest; with now and again a tliiill, at tlic thoiiolit 
 that I was not only meandering in the " course of Empire," 
 but in close proximity to that imperial magnet, whoso 
 ))ovver now drew all in common, and aV)out whose brilliance 
 there was that eccchomic isolation whi(;h blent all minor 
 shades in obscurity ; and already we felt retleetcd on our 
 dazzled vision the dawning splendor of our destination, 
 
 Vll. 
 
 This language may seem exaggerated, and it would l)e, 
 under any other circumstances; but I am emh'avoring 
 faithfully to describe my impressions on this occasion, 
 and though I may be peculiarly susceptible to sentimen- 
 tal influences, still, I found myself on this eventful day 
 under what may be explained as that mesmeric power 
 under whose subtle sway, not simply individuals and po- 
 tentates, but communities and nations, have yielded all 
 their prerogatives of self-government, and acknowledged, 
 if not vassalage, at least subordination. The fact is, from 
 the inception of my hazardous undertaking, T had been 
 • Iravvn within the current of that inexplicable magnetism, 
 whose manifestation and power had electrified a preced- 
 ing generation ; and which had not simply drawn out, but 
 at the bidding of its imperial will had impelled blindly, 
 devotedly forward, the victims of one, whom, forty cen- 
 turies will look back upon as the God of war ! I felt 
 what drew me on was the same power that had led them 
 across the narrow span that separated glory from perdi- 
 tion at Lodi, and through smoke and flame down into 
 
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 the tleath gaps of Jena and Wag i am — the .same whos*- 
 maj^otic destiny others followed smilingly, willingly, 
 suhlimely, throu<^di the midst of winter, ovtn- harrier of 
 ice, and craig, and mountain chain, — brushing asi<le th** 
 avalanche, or threading serenely the <lreadful gorges of 
 the Alps ! Aye, an<l posterity to this late day catches 
 an undying glimpse of that terrific power and its luMoii; 
 following, enveloped in the storm-cloud of the St. Ber- 
 nard, disguised like fabled genii in a tempest, "stealing 
 a march on Fate I " 
 
 Under the intluence of that same marvellous agency, T 
 should not, any more than these other men, have shrunk 
 from numbering my hund)le self in the honored cate- 
 gory ot the sacrificed ; indeed, I was ready and willing t(» 
 march right into the very "jaws of death," but the jaws, on 
 this occasion, fortunately, were the open portals that lei I 
 to no harder fate than into the presence of the wifk and 
 SON of France. The Prince, who now caught sight of our 
 party, was standing about the middle of the room with 
 the Empress a little way lihind, and to the right of hiui. 
 As we approached, he advanced a pace or two, and 
 our spokesman, or some one in front, said something, I 
 think, to let him know who we were, an<l thus presented, 
 all commenced bowing, the principal ones in the front- 
 rank shaking hands with the Prince. Several of these he 
 seemed to know and spoke to in a jdeasant, graceful 
 way, that I have no hesitation in saying, won my heart 
 at once. The Empress came forward also, and addressed 
 one or two with that peculiar grace and dignity which 
 have won the esteem and a<lmiration of all who have been 
 
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 fortumitii «'tlolii(h to Ih'IioM licr. MUi a fv\\ luief inomoniM, 
 wliicli passed so <[ui('kly n>< almost to seem an aj^^^nisa- 
 tion, we coinmcnecHl our retreat, and were soon l)ack 
 again in tlio tirst r< in. Hert; T saw another s(|uad \no' 
 parinjL^ to enter as we had, and 1 (jniekly sidled over, and 
 joined them with a view to ^oing in again. 
 
 It may seem absunl, but I was so absorbed witli the de- 
 sire to get baek into the reception room once more, and 
 if possible to ^ray there a little while, tha^ I really cared 
 tor nothing else ; and owing to th«' confusion generally T 
 was not interfered witii, and so entered with mv new 
 companions a second time. H )wever, inst»ad, of going up 
 all the way got off to one -ide, which was discreet; as ibis 
 time they nearly all grappled with the imperial paifcy, and 
 seemed entitled to personal recognition I thought I 
 might have reason to be satisfied if I did not come in 
 actual contact, so got a little out of range, and took a 
 calm, quiet survey of all that was going on. 1 wanted to 
 see how the Empress looked, and talked and acted on this 
 occasion, and was gratified beyond my most sanguine 
 expectations. I watched her for fully twenty minutes, 
 feeling tolerablyfree from observation ni}'self,as there were 
 so many coming and going, an«l all eyes were on the 
 Empress and the Prince. The former stood facing in our 
 direction, and to her right, and a little behind her, was a 
 very stout but fine, pleasant-looking dame (the Comtesse 
 Poeze), who was the only lady besides the Empress in the 
 room. 
 
 The prince was attired in plain clothes, but wore 
 over his left breast the broad ribbon and star denoting, I 
 
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 REVERIKS OF AN OU) SMOKEK. 
 
 believe, a high grade in the Legion of Honor. He had 
 his mother's look about the eyes, but in general features 
 resembled his father very strongly, without, however, the 
 slightest trace of a likeness to the first Napoleon. He had 
 a robust frame, a frank, manly bearing, and it seemed to 
 me, performed the task of receiving the deputations in a 
 very happy manner, and with admirable ease and self- 
 possession, for so young a courtier. The Empress, when 
 not engaged in conveisation, watched her son with a 
 mother's pride and solicitude plainly depicted on her 
 noble but worn and troubled features ; at the same time 
 seeming to hear, see everything that was going on, and to 
 feel, as no doubt she was warranted in doing, that it was 
 a trying and important time for both. Attired as usual 
 in deep mourning, it was, indeed, difficult to recognize 
 the once reigning Queen of Fashion ; but although the 
 blighting grief she has had to bear has told upon her 
 sadly, nevertheless she is still a beautiful woman, and all 
 her ways superbly graceful and winsome. In brief, then, 
 supreme without being ostentatious, and affable without 
 seeming to patronize, this widowed mother and that father- 
 less son acquitted themselves in a manner to reflect dig- 
 nity on their cause, and merit on their pretensions. 
 
 Lucien Bonaparte was in the room at one time, but 
 disappeared without my getting a very good sight at him. 
 Standing in the front rank a little to one side was the 
 Due de Padua, and near him the Due de Bassano. I had 
 seen them before on the way from the marqude, and it 
 was in their rear, and screened by their benign and im- 
 posing presence, I had planted my humble standard, and 
 
CHISEMIUUST. 
 
 271 
 
 took all my observations. Was so iinicli ilitorestod in 
 the spectacle I did not mind much about myself; until a 
 ])lain appearing individual came up and stood nearly in 
 front of me, and while there the Empress stepped up 
 and shook hands with him. J coiild not understand 
 what she said, but the movement admonished me 1 was 
 in too close quarters to retain my spectatorship much 
 longer, and I sidled off by degrees. Passing through 
 the adjoining room into the hall, I very nearly upset on 
 the way a stifly-starched genius in livery who said to me 
 quite civily, a (jauche ! It startled me for a moment, as 
 what he uttered sounded very like the English for " a 
 ghost," l)ut I regained my self-possession and turned, as 
 directed, to the left. 
 
 At one part of the hall another cuts it crosswise, 
 and at the intersection of these I made a stand for a 
 few minutes. It was a large open space furnished, 
 Aloorish fashion, like a room, with the sw^eet addition of 
 an almost tropical [)rofusion of flowers in the form of 
 bouquets and wreaths and offerings of that sort which had 
 been brought over from France. Here were gathered 
 a sroodlv share of the creme de la creme of all that multi- 
 tude who had come over to do honor to the occasion, and 
 whose homage and fealty, in the opinion of many, bid fair 
 to bring about a restoration. Among these were a goodly 
 number of ladies,finely dressed and fashionable looking,but 
 somewhat on the dowager order, and nearly all, I thought, 
 extremely plain-looking. Several of the gentlemen I ob- 
 served wore that decoration of the Legion of Honor, which 
 consists of a crimson ribbon with a star attached, worn 
 
 '1 
 1 
 
 

 ii 
 
 272 
 
 IIKVKUIES OK AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 like a linly's lockot loinul the neck. I cannot say how 
 far up in tlie scale of distinction it is, but as those only 
 wore it whose province it seemed to be to do the honors 
 of the Imperial household, a,nd submit to be lionized, and 
 to be treated with innnense deference, it struck me it de- 
 noted something of a very high order. Whilst standing 
 here two ladies passed close by me, one of whom said 
 " Pardon, Monsieur ! " and I made way for them. They 
 stopped within nudging distance of my right elbow, and 
 spoke to an old gentleman who had just come up ; he was 
 of slim stature, but courtly looking, with a large, square 
 head, fine features, and pleasing aspect. One of the ladies 
 was the wife of a Marshal of France (Canrobertj ; the 
 old gentleman who wore the grand cordon of the Legion 
 was Prince Jerome Bonaparte. 
 
 But I must bring my narrative to a close. Much as I 
 have written, I have but briefly, and inadequately de- 
 scribed all I saw and felt ; have exaggerated nothing ; in 
 fact have done no sort of justice to the theme, and simply 
 give these jottings as a truthful remembrance of what really 
 occurred. Suflice it then that as I moved slowly and reluct- 
 antly away and took my departure, it was with a profound 
 sense of gratification at all I had seen. I marvelled a 
 little at my extraordinary good fortune, in getting 
 through without a mishap ; and whilst being thankful for 
 this, was not a little proud to think, I was probably tlie 
 only representative of America in that historic picture^ 
 to which in thought, at least, the eyes of all Europe were 
 turned that day, with even more interest in its political 
 
CHISELHURST. 
 
 273 
 
 Importance, than I, through more curiosity, could ap- 
 preciate ; thi.ugh as far as I was concerned it was alto- 
 gether the most intensely interesting event in my re- 
 collection, and the most novel and gratifying of all my 
 adventures. There was nothing farcical about it, al- 
 though it is quite possible my description may niake it 
 seem so ; and the earnestness and enthusiasm evinced on 
 all sides by so many respectable people, and noted men, 
 impressed me strongly wuth a belief, that the cause of 
 the Imperial party is by no means a forlorn hope. Both 
 from the demonstration made a^. Chiselhurst on this oc- 
 casion, and a correspending one in Paris, there is good 
 reason to believe a great reaction has taken place in the 
 minds of the French people in this respect. The courts 
 of inquiry, too, that have been held recently, have in 
 every instance reflected credit on the patriotism and 
 fidelity of Napoleon and the Empress, who were no 
 doubt basely betrayed and sacrificed. Meanwhile the 
 remnants and scattered debris of monuments and sym- 
 ])ols levelled and defaced in madness and ingratitude 
 are being garnered up in kindliness and regret, and pre- 
 served as mementos.^ With the masses, especially the 
 low^er classes, these are treasured as precious souvenirs, 
 and despite the eifort of government a secret sympathy 
 not unmingled with pride and reverence is fast gaining 
 ground in the public mind. This sentiment is silent 
 generally and in many instances where expostulation is 
 loudest, denunciation is all assumed to palliate a con- 
 sciousness of self-shame. Not a few may seek by carry- 
 R 
 
 ii 
 
 n 
 
 fi 
 
 
274 
 
 REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 in^' ilu! Manic to aiiotliei's dorn- to shirk the opprolniiim 
 of their own pei'fidy and crime ; rival claimants, pai ty 
 men, ami blustcrini,' politicians may still cry " vengeance 
 on the man of Sedan," but the victim uf their dastardlv 
 meanness lies beyond tlie pale of further outrage, and 
 a rival nation and a great people are proud to k- 
 ceive his dust, and to honor his memory. They pulled 
 their Emperor down from the high place which his vir- 
 tues and abilities ha<l won, but they may not long depos*- 
 Justice ; both were dragged to shame, and burie<l under a 
 mountain of oldocjuy, but phcienix-like both have risen— 
 the one to assume the crown of the incorruptible — tliti 
 other to mount upward like the morning sun over the hill- 
 tops, its beaming rays dispelling the mists of prejudice, and 
 rolling })ack those dark threatening clouds that seemed 
 for a time to threaten the glorious memory of one whom 
 all must esteem as having been a wise man, an inde- 
 fatigable benefactor, and, by all odds, the greatest sover- 
 eign of his time. Say what they may France glories in 
 the name of Bonaparte, and that " star " which shone so 
 brilliantly on the victorious legions of Austerlitz and 
 Marengo, is looming in the horizon a grand refulgent oib, 
 in a constellation of solar magnates — blazing with a lustre 
 that the destiny of Waterloo could not eclipse, and that the 
 defeat of Sedan is powerless to tarnish ! Vive VEmperev.f ! 
 
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AMNESTY. 
 
 I. 
 
 rr^HERE arc other ideas sugoested by the precednig" 
 -*- essays, and having a sympathetic beaiiijg on the 
 general train of thought which we have adopted in these 
 reveries, and though jotting them down as tiiey crowd in 
 pell-mell on the mind, may make them seem irrelevant 
 and such a digression that each may appear the intro- 
 duction of an entirely new subject, nevertheless, they are 
 only branches of one broad theme, — tributaries which, 
 diverging at certain points, to embrace a wider field of 
 observation, converge latterly, as is natural with many 
 things in life, and clasp hands finally over that narrow 
 chasm where all differences blend in fraternal accord. 
 
 We find two things in the affairs of people, exercising 
 vital influence over their lives and destiny : I refer to the 
 opposite vicissitudes of, on the one hand, a great triumph 
 — on the other, a great reverse. There is no question 
 which is the more popular. — The former is greeted on every 
 liand with applause, — it is presumptive and undisputed 
 evidence of merit ; while the latter, it follows naturally, 
 we despise, condemn, and try to shun. But strange as it 
 may seem at first, when we ask which of these exercises 
 
 si 
 
 P 111 
 
 "'V li 
 
It 
 
 I ■)' 
 
 i 
 
 278 
 
 ItKVERlES OF AN OU) SMOKJ'R. 
 
 
 
 the Invst inflnonro, the »[uestion is more difficult to answer 
 than may he supposed : The one, no douht, kindh's our as- 
 piiationsand elevates our aims, — its motto is, " Excelsiorl" 
 — But th(! other operates as a restraining power, and rising 
 like a Bancpio on the ice, points to the thin and <langerous 
 places and cries " Beware ! Beware ! " 
 
 Crime is not unfrtMpU'ntly the ()tts})ringof thefirst, whilci 
 nohli'r, purer conception of living many times springs from 
 the last; but to give these two exemplary conditions in life, 
 the larger scope and detail exhibite<l in ordinary careers, 
 they may be d<^signated under the moie comprehensive and 
 familiar heads of Sticces8,aud Failure. It is not my purpose 
 here to investijiate all the fateful bearinfjs of these two 
 prolific words; it would take volumes to compass even the 
 smallest part of their full significance. We only point 
 them out in passing, as we would striking features in a 
 landscape ; comprehending as they do in our social status 
 all those varied irregularities of hill and dale, — of moun- 
 tain and valley, — which, running at right angles to the 
 more common wa3^s of our humdi-um existence, indicate 
 the crof^scuts of life — those rugged tortuous })aths, side by 
 side with graded, luxurious avenues, beneath whose tin- 
 selled foliage and beguiling shades; ambition and enter- 
 prise lure the eager, restless votaries of discontent and 
 avarice. 
 
 All our impulses, if acted upon, may be said to involve 
 to a greater or less extent, success and failure ; but re- 
 gaicled in the ct nventional phase most characteristic of 
 our times, these two flexible word may be defined as the 
 
AMNKSTY. 
 
 ^279 
 
 Mttaiiiiiicnt, on the one IuiikI, of positions or tlu' continl of 
 iiR'jins, wlu»iel»y we may coiimwind w Imtevt'i' luxiiiios and 
 comforts our a})petites may cravo or money procure ; on 
 the other, not only the ri;verse from this but sucli an un- 
 profitable issue in all we undertake, as to debar us t'roiu 
 making more than a precarious livelihood, if indeed so 
 much. These conditions, we may add, are presumed to re- 
 present happiness and abundance, misery and want. 
 
 II. 
 
 Taking the people who represent these two writhing 
 struggling divisions, we find ini([uity iidierent in both, and 
 neither exempt; but how much the greater burden of 
 blame are the unfortunates made to carry, and, as things 
 are, how much more largely do they share, not in the good 
 things of life, Imt in the ordeal of exclusion, expiation 
 and trial. When both are implicated, which of these nmst 
 suffer most to vindicate the riofhteous ri^jfor of our laws ? 
 Or turning away the <larker side of the grimy picture 
 and glancing at that which is generally, if not hidden 
 at least ignorsd, let us impure who does all the hard and 
 really dirty work of the world ? Wa may take pri<le 
 in our factories, our industries — who work them ? We 
 may be proud of our army, our navy — who comprise the 
 army — who are the navy ? Who do all the fighting in time 
 of war, and gain the victories that overthrow and con* 
 found the disturbers of our national peace ^ Who suffer on 
 the battle field — in the hospital — in the prison hulk — 
 and later, drag through a miserable, thankless, crippled 
 
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 it 1 > 
 
 i i » 
 
 Hi 
 
280 
 
 nKVKRlKS OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 
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 .if «' 
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 II ■ 
 it ■■'« 
 
 br^ 
 
 exisk'iicc ? We answer, they belong' to that (h'gi*a«h'<l set 
 wlio Moine way iiuina<^e to i'kc out a niea^ni .siihsistcnce 
 ami to livi', hut wlio, ici^anlleMs of their claims to tlie eon- 
 trary, an» re;;anle<l by society, and njayhap by themselves, 
 as — failures. 
 
 Notwithstanding the contempt that may be felt for tlirni 
 individually, we are altogether too prone to forg<'t that 
 collectively they have performed such service as to enable 
 us all so proudly to njaintain, not simply our families in 
 opulence and security, but, better still, to achieve and re- 
 tain our individuality and credit as a nation imd our pres- 
 tige as a great military and naval power. They, indeed, 
 are the true "sinews of war;" and on a morning that ushers 
 in a " Waterloo," or a "Balaklava," it is their valor, not our 
 "iuoney, that wins us the day ; — their hevowm, not our 
 Ttinrujlcence, that glorifies defeat. Aye, and when, in 
 the midst of our exultation, we give a thought to the 
 cost, well may we turn with contempt from the treasurt' 
 contributed by the higher class of successful stay-at-homes, 
 and regard reverentially the long death-roll which tells 
 the sad fate of the absent, the heroic, — for the names \\c 
 read thi're, are, with rare exceptions, the very lunnl>l('st 
 in the land; but they are the names, forsooth, that with 
 mute eloquence and speechless pathos, betoken wdiat n 
 hard struggle it all must have been for our country, our 
 home, and our fireside ! 
 
 Hence it is, when we ask ourselves whence comes the 
 sorrowing tears that through long years have drenched 
 our battle-fields, we have only to trace the bitter stream 
 to its source to find it issuincr from the miserable refu<]fe 
 
AMNKSTV 
 
 281 
 
 of the poor, tin' dcspistMl, tin fuilm»' ! In tiiiir of war, it 
 is true, we hiiiii up the JH<;ge«l <,'a.sh wlieiice wells thr life- 
 blood ; and yet in peace we leave all unattended and un- 
 lionored, wounds, that thou;;;h they c«'ase to bleed, have 
 not healed, an<l hearts, which thou;^di brokmjnay not die 
 The living' reai) tlicir harvest fiom the battle-field; the 
 (lead, theirs : It is well for the poor fellows who comprise 
 the latter that, as we may rationally presume, the pr-ice of 
 glory and of redemption being the same, debarred from 
 the enjoyment of the one they may havr entered into 
 the felicitv of the othei-. Thus, as we muse in ima<ri- 
 nation over the scene of former conHict, it is <lifh 
 cult, notwithstanding all our pious egotism, to sliut our 
 eyes to the impression that there is something better 
 than our humanity brooding over it all; — a spirit more 
 symi)athetic and nobler even than our Christianity — with 
 its long train of disputed right — its hoh)caust of bloody 
 sacrifice. The strife for these poor fellows is past, with us 
 it is only hushed ; the roar of ])roadsides and batteries, 
 the crash of volleys have ceased, but to all that murderous 
 <lin there seems still a comminjiflinf^ of faint and moiunful 
 echoes — thev lead far awav-— thev are shivered and scat- 
 tered like birds tieeing before the wintry blast; — scattered, 
 they are not parted, but only divided, and meet later in a 
 chorus of angelic song. — Ah, they are the death-sighs of 
 the fallen, wending their piteous way to the spirit land ; 
 they leave the reeking trophy of war behind, but carry 
 Avith them the passport to higher distinction : — It is that 
 race and forgiveness vjrowjht in a stiffed »oh of pain. 
 
 
 i 
 
 l! 
 
 ! ,1 
 
282 
 
 TlEVEUlES OP AN OLD SMOKtltt. 
 
 \n 
 
 ■^ .If ? 
 
 In the last sentence of the foregoing was struck what 
 is claimed herein to be the key-note of final and univer- 
 sal amnesty, and up to the word " pain," we have given 
 an inkling of the drift of thought (I will not say argu- 
 ment) which is to follow. 
 
 ' ■■ ■ - "'...,,/■■ "." 
 
 . . . Ill ^ ...- , ,;,,:;^--:;.-- 
 
 As what we have written thus far would indicate, we 
 find the subject of anmesty bristling with antagonism ; in- 
 deed, so far as this life is concerned, it is really less a 
 matter of amity than of enmity, and, confining the issue 
 to class, the inquiry resolves itself into one of strife. 
 
 As regards the two great divisions of society we have in 
 view, it is not so much my intention to go into an ela- 
 borate analysis of them as they stand in relation to suc- 
 cess and failure, although in this connection they could 
 be picked to pieces to advantage ; but my design in bring- 
 ing them together is to strike a level in the apparently 
 uneven surface thus presented, not simply in business af- 
 fairs and social position, but in human nature. In doing 
 this, it may not be irrational to assume, on the principle of 
 the husk, the possibility of clearing away, not by argument, 
 but by a more potent and diviner influence, the enormous 
 superstructure of good, bad, and indifferent that has accu- 
 mulated above such level. Then, however strongly these 
 opposing elements may seemingly incline to a disseverance 
 of ties, and to a division of race, it might be shown to be 
 so only in the temporal affkirs of men ; and that pertain- 
 ing to the conventionalities of life merely, they have no 
 
 1^'"> 
 
AMNESTY. 
 
 283 
 
 more to do with our hereafter, than liavetlu^lialtits and crot- 
 chets of good society or the petty decrees of social ostra- 
 cism. Thus, while being superficial, the irregularities of 
 life are neither profound no'- eternal, and, while obstruct- 
 ing, <lo not bar nature's evidence of counnon destiny. 
 
 IV. • ■ ■ 
 
 In m}' estimate of those comprehended under the 
 term success, I may fail to justify such apparent a])ase- 
 nient as shall bring them in the manner proposed down to 
 a level with the rest of mankind ; and judging from that 
 standpoint, which I confess to be the general sea-level of 
 failure, — contemplating success it may be inbias, — I would 
 seek to measure the lofty heights before me not in the light 
 of their crowning radiance, but grovelling in the mire be- 
 low and taking their altitude by the shadow they cast 
 upon the plain. I make no stint of confessing, further- 
 more, that my sympathies are most heartily enlisted on 
 the side of those who, as in the case of poverty and fail- 
 ure, — seem to have the greatest difficulty in establishing 
 their claims ; not that I love them best, but because they 
 are ccRdemned the worst ; not that I think them blame- 
 less, but that I would not have them bear the whole bur- 
 den of culpability. 
 
 Contrasting the respective qualities of the two classes 
 we have in mind — the high and the low, the trained and 
 the illiterate, — it must be admitted the latter exhibit the 
 most marked natural characteristics whether of good or 
 bad ; and notwithstanding the many blots, we read human 
 
 1 
 
 ^1 
 
 > \i 
 
 ir 
 
2<S4 
 
 REVEKIES OF AN OLt) SMOKEIt. 
 
 1 
 
 nature (as it is) among thein, better, and feel when wo 
 put the volume down it deserves the title not of polished 
 duplicity, but of plain unvarnished truth. In some re- 
 spects, these two classes stand in the relation of heads to 
 hearts ; indeed, one of the secrets, and a vital one, in the 
 achievements of that success which in the world's idea is 
 the accumulation of pioperty and power, is to be all head 
 and no heart. Success, too, always couples with it tlie 
 affectation of letinement, and now-a-days one marked 
 feature in our vulgar appreciation of that, if not its spe- 
 cial function, is to enable heads to banish oi* dissendde 
 all sentiment pertaining to the rival sect of hearts. 
 
 It requires very little experience of the world, however 
 to teach us with which of these the vantage lies; and when 
 we consider our state offices, our seats of learning, our 
 temples of precept are all monopolized by men whose pre- 
 tensions, at least, marshal them under the banner of 
 " brains," w^e need not feel surprised to find authority 
 yoked up with arrogance, — and the rules and regulations, 
 *the dicta emanating therefrom, if not to the prejudice of 
 the lower class, are not, we may be assured, at variance 
 wdth that consciousness of high-toned desert which we 
 may expect to find in such an exclusive appropriation of 
 all the superior virtues. 
 
 It may be urged that the learning and enlightenment 
 of the higher and cultured class are a blessing and a guid- 
 ance to the set who are groping (as represented) in intellec- 
 tual darkness and moral obscurity. Education, it will not 
 be denied, is a useful qualification, especially to him wdio 
 
 m 
 
AMNESTV. 
 
 285 
 
 possesses it ; but how far we may ask, is such exclusive eli- 
 gibility influenced by motives of personal aggrandizement 
 and individual and selfish monopoly ? Wherein has 
 all this polish and erudition evinced in any degree, much 
 less demonstrated, an exemption from the venal instincts 
 and petty spites that .stigmatize the duller and les* re- 
 fined capacity of our unsophisticated and sturdy yeo- 
 manry. Moreover,so far as the blessing of their guidance is 
 concerned, I must admit, I for one have lost much of my 
 schoolboy admiration for that high-cultured benevolence 
 and patriotism as exhibited in our public men, who, while 
 professing to cater exclusively to the welfare of the 
 needy and distressed, never fail to make the wants of a 
 people of personal advantage to themselves. 
 
 Of course, for me to impugn the integrity and disinter- 
 estedness of these men and the learned professions, would 
 be a shocking presumption; however that may be, wo 
 may instance, by way of general application, the fact that 
 experience has shown the necessity of representation, and 
 that our highest judicial authorities needed, and still need 
 from time to time, that regulating themselves which we 
 do not alv/ays see emanate from the spontaneous exercise 
 
 of their own wise volition. 
 
 V. 
 
 Not being one of those commendable exceptions who 
 boast of being dispassionate, I may be biassed when I say 
 it is not surprising the lower classes — I mean those who 
 figure in the comparative obscurity and diead pro- 
 scription of failure — should sometimes feel a consciousness 
 
 
 M 
 
 H 
 
 t" ', 
 
 Ml 
 
 ! I • 
 
^i: 
 
 
 280 
 
 REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 
 of desert which, it must be admitted, except in rare in- 
 stances, is not recognised, and far less substantially appre- 
 ciated by the class above them, who, having achieved a 
 little success, feel the ovei'shadowing importance of their 
 own superiority, and use the privileges in which they 
 profess a generous pride as the medium of an ill-disguisod 
 contempt and as the means of an equally unjust and cruel 
 oppression. 
 
 While this tendency, of course, is most strongly to 
 widen the breach of social relationship and mutual good- 
 will, it follows naturally these two classes should bei )iiie, 
 what they really are, adverse, discordant and opposing 
 elements. Under circumstances so favorable to provo- 
 cation complaints arise and combine in a baleful nucleus of 
 ill will. Round these are clustered — in the pacific guise of 
 societies or benefactors — organized legions of sympathiz- 
 ers, agitators, and adherents, who raise a mere partisan 
 grudge, or local irritation, to the dignity of a class griev- 
 ance — and this, under various pretexts, breaks out, fVoni 
 time to time, in those savage irruptions that go so far to 
 make history a mere partisan recital of bloody atrocities. 
 
 This state of things, it is only common sense to predict, 
 will obtain through all time, nor is it paradoxical to aver, 
 that the danger is most imminent when peace seems to 
 have accumulated the most abundant and gratifying evi- 
 dences to the contrary. Thus it is, when all things as- 
 sume an air the most pacific and admirable, there is re- 
 vealed underneath the outer scale of our opulence ami 
 splendor, the Scourge of War who, in the glitter of a more 
 
AMNESTY. 
 
 287 
 
 polished barbarity, has burnished his weapons, and only 
 awaits the signal to begin the fray. 
 
 Unlike the spark that ignited the great fires of London 
 and Chicago, in the case of social cond)Ustion the tlanie is 
 spontaneous, like that which precedes a storm in the 
 clouds. There may be no appearance of fire, but from tlio 
 impact of two or more sensitive and highly wrought up 
 elements; there issues in this case not an electric flash, but 
 a steady, deadly flame ; not the crash of thunder, but the 
 roar of cannon ; not the rush of the tempest, but the 
 rumble of revolution ! We see in the half frolicksome 
 tussle of '* Town and Gown," a fflimmerinir of the confla- 
 gration ; but increase these combatants by the hosts per- 
 taining to the ups and downs of society — the rich and the 
 poor, the patrician and the plebeian, as they severally be- 
 long — and we have marshalled under our observation not 
 two local factions merely, but the colossal aimies of two 
 great rival classes, between v;hom have been and is being 
 engendered, in the nature oi things, an ever smouldering 
 and irruptive hostility. It has been most providentially 
 neutralized by the ceaseless fluctuations of success and 
 failure, and the ever drifting sands of party lines ; besides, 
 iu the dire extremity which seems must usher in that 
 dreadful and most needless arbitrament of the sword, a 
 soothing calm has been breathed over the turbulent pas- 
 sions of angry men, and elements that loomed in the 
 horizon and threatened to inundate the country in a great 
 ensanguined wave, have subsided into safer channels an<l 
 a kindlier, more pacific feeling has prevailed. 
 
 
J 
 
 
 t 
 
 £1 
 
 III « ■ 
 
 288 
 
 REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Again, too, in the case of threatened collision, extremes 
 must yiel<l, and compromise, which has done so much for 
 V)oth' sides and sided with neither, has been as "oil upon 
 the troubled waters." It has won illustrious patronage 
 too, in high places ; an<l by way of example we may no- 
 tice that the innovation of new titles in the British Peer- 
 age, is but the ostentatious display of a prudent fore- 
 sight, as well as a conspi(;uous evidence of what the 
 great world of failure loses by success. In other words, 
 what prejudice may not abjure, it is policy to conciliate; 
 and in our inability to exterminate the next best resouice 
 is to patronize. As invective sobers, so flattery intoxi- 
 cates; and thus an element that may not be conquered by 
 force, is vanquished through the graceful medium of an 
 impotent prerogative. So it comes about, that a ceremony 
 which in a mediieval age had been deemed a sacrilege, in 
 this is looked upon as the ordination of a more enlight- 
 ened policy. Hence the world in our generation is treated 
 to the significant pantomime of royalty invoking the 
 spirit of amnesty, in the sprinkling of plebeian blood 
 over the hallowed dust of pedigree ! 
 
 Notwithstanding all this the ire of class is not appeased. 
 It is baffled in the loss of a chief perhaps, but the monster 
 grievance of real or ftincied wrong is fostered and suffered 
 by the lower orders. It recuperates from every blow^ aimed 
 by the opposing set at its subjugation or extinction ; aye 
 and when deemed no more, is only like many another evil, 
 taking new shape and ground, and not only existing Init 
 
AMNESTY. 
 
 280 
 
 gaining increased strength. Thus when it seems after a 
 terrible wrenching to be eradicated, it is only masked un- 
 der some new aspect and after a severe blow kept hidden 
 and resuscitated. This incubus can never be driven awav 
 it cannot even be induced to migrate ; and to banish it, for- 
 sooth, would require not only the extermination of the 
 cause of feud, but the utter annihilation of the race of man, 
 and a repeopling of the earth, under the devoutly wished 
 for regime not of strife but of amnesty. 
 
 As things are, however, the mischief I speak of as con- 
 spiring against amity and peace, not only lives but while 
 being the rankest, so it is the most flourishing attribute 
 of our nature. In its frenzy it would riot in anarchy ; 
 and barring the helplessness of all human authority to 
 keep it in 3ubjection, there is brought to bear at this criti- 
 cal juncture a means for its control the happy adaptabi- 
 lity of which might have been suggested by that subtle 
 instinct we call tact, but the successful w^orking of which— 
 saving the dispensation of an all-wise Providence — would 
 seem more like the artifice of an astute governor : — That 
 is, it is kept diverted; and a current too strong to be re- 
 sisted is simply turned aside. 
 
 : VII. 
 
 Here, we may remark, (and it will sound like a fa- 
 
 voming of the "all-is -for- the-best" principle) that the more 
 
 numerous the divisions of public opinion, the smaller and 
 
 less formidable the innate mischief we are considering; for 
 
 then these diminutive factions not being strong enough to 
 s 
 
 
20O 
 
 REVERIES OF AN Of.D SMOKER. 
 
 undertake each other's destruction, find vent for their ill 
 humor through a species of harmless initation ; the 
 general effect being comparative harmony and to some 
 extent co-operation. Thus, through a complex system of 
 petty storms, are we enabled to approach nearest to a per- 
 fect calm. 
 
 There is no doubt that much of the dissension amongst 
 us m.ay seem all wrong and out of place in our time ; but 
 while we may regard it — as wo do so many other things — 
 with distrust, as threatening our welfare and security, this 
 is only another one of innumerable reminders that we do 
 not alwa3^s know when or for what to be most grateful. In 
 fact, we are constantly admonished how erroneous and un- 
 kind are many of the estimates on which we borrow 
 trouble ; and it is not too much to assume that those very 
 differences which appear so dreadfully agitating and even 
 leading, as they often do, to worse contention, are not sim- 
 ply beneficial to our moral health, but indispensable in 
 acting as the waste-wears of inevitable spleen, and as the 
 safety-valves of irrepressible ferment. Hence in the wear 
 and tear which is so much deprecated, and in the sadder 
 destruction at times of life, as well as of property, the ten- 
 dency is most mercifully to soothe and assuage that tiger 
 in our nature which we see, not alone in the darker epochs 
 of history, as in the " reign of terror " in France, but also 
 in a small, but no less vindictive way, snapping and snarl- 
 ing individually, throughout every class and sphere of so- 
 ciety. _..,.:_.:;■■ .:..,_ ...;_,_..^,,,._';_:.^,.,:l:— : --^_..;,*^^1/ 
 
AMNKSTY. 
 
 21)1 
 
 III this view, then, much of that strife which is regarded 
 as so deplomble, may come in the divine onler of appro- 
 priate concomitants and he a(hiiirahly suited to regidate 
 those human animosities which must be appeased and, as 
 is often found necessary, fought down. Here we may note, 
 more particularly, that the people inheriting these dan- 
 gerous traits of character are not, as so many are inclined 
 to think, that much despi.^ed species of ghouls which 
 they assume are to be found only in the lowest stratum 
 of society, and inhabiting those dens of corruption which 
 are thought to distinguish the dwelling places of the poor. 
 
 There is no doubt that in the eyes of some, Poverty and 
 Opprobium seem always to walk together and to be in- 
 separable from vice ; indeed, it is characteristic of our 
 benevolence to yoke these two up together ; nevertheless, 
 I believe it is a grievous mistake, as well as a very ct m- 
 mon error to imagine the worst kind of wickedness may 
 not be found most prevalent in those places which are 
 surrounded by the most seductive of all excuses that 
 embellish our highest refinement. Of course an evil pro- 
 pensity is or seems to be a very general descrepancy in 
 our organism; but in none is it more deeply rooted, if not 
 so contemptibly conspicuous, as in him w^ho piques him- 
 self he is exempt. There is no exemption ! No, not 
 even alienation ; and, in the case of the best of us, no 
 amount of " moral suasion" ever did or ever will coax it 
 away. It may be diverted and pacified in many ways 
 that are pleasant and legal as w^ell as highly respectable, 
 nevertheless, however palliated it exists all the same. We 
 
 
 :i' 
 
 
 m. 
 
t-h iii 
 
 m 
 
 I"* 
 
 292 
 
 KEVKKIl!:8 OK AN OLD SMOKEK. 
 
 may rtMrognise it reiulily in a criminal or a mob — we .some- 
 times detect it amongst friends, but in self, never. — It is a 
 distemper that none of the nostrums known to onr 
 shrewdest adepts can purge away, and, like some otlur 
 ills so hard to wrestle with, we rarely recognise its true 
 character till ti.o late. v ' i 
 
 VIII. 
 
 According to the popular idea, wickedness is not only 
 moral disease but moral defoi'mity. It may wear this 
 aspect sometimes in the case of others, but in self, never ; 
 and generally speaking it is a wrong conception. Person- 
 ally, it has none of the sickly symptoms of a baleful malady 
 — none of the alarming concomitants of a wasting pesti- 
 lence ; it comes, on the contrary, comniended to us by our 
 conceit, and, not unfrequently, by all the rosy witchery of 
 robust health and lustful good nature; — then, childlike and 
 irresistible, it pillows its head upon our bosom and we 
 cuddle it ! 
 
 The (qualities, also, by which some of our worst propen- 
 sities are generally known, may be the very ones by 
 which in self the evil is harbored, screened, and beautified. 
 They are closely allied to self-love, and though we give 
 them the most endearing names in all our tender heart's 
 sweet vocabulary, yet the cruel, unfeeling world calls them 
 by such harsh, opprobrious epithets as "Envy" — "Jealousy'' 
 — "Hatred." Traits like these — with which we are all 
 amply endowed- — nourished, not maliciously, we will say 
 unconsciousl}^ grow into a species of gaunt, ever-hunger- 
 
 LLk4 
 
AMNESTY, 
 
 293 
 
 in^ carnivuni that, out of tlu'ir rofu^'r in tlic tiackh'ss 
 fastnessoHof otir darker passions, issue forth toj»ruhon the 
 tender blossom and to poison the more healthful juices of 
 the better fruit. 
 
 With individuals the evil is localized, and may not i^ 
 the case of some seem more obnoxious than may bi' in- 
 dulgently dubbe<l sj)iteful ; at any rate it is short lived, 
 as the span of existence; but under the fostering intlu- 
 ence of congenial " aFiSoeiations " that never die — com- 
 mingling with kindred Hocks and nursed by confreres 
 in the hot-bed of secret conclave, these traits of which I 
 speak are no longer the piecemeal of ill-will, but with 
 the homogeneousness of all unkindliness, become the 
 gigantic embodiment of sectional enmity. Then it is, we 
 see exliibited in private, the voracious beast we read of in 
 holy metaphor, — only that it is erroneous to think it is al- 
 ways " roaring ; " indeed, between the periods of its savage 
 irru|)ti(m, it is the inert monster of smiling duplicity,— 
 and then, in the saintly guise of certain "societies," solicits 
 and obtains patronage with an air of url»ane and even 
 pious benevolence. Although ever on the trail of its prey, 
 it appears on such occasions imi)elled by a more sympa- 
 thetic impulse, — as if in tender curiosity it was seeking 
 out the erring and wandering ways of poor troubled 
 spirits ; and thus transformed, without even the " cloven 
 foot" to indicate the brute, it meanders forth the per- 
 sonification of zealous philanthroj)y. To stri[) these 
 animals of their disguise — to harmonize them — to recon- 
 cile differences and obliterate feuds — all constitute the 
 
 4 
 
 I; 
 
 lSi| 
 
 t 1 
 
 lit 
 
]^ 
 
 iii 
 
 H 
 
 •% 
 
 
 
 
 J 
 
 204 
 
 RKVEUIKS OF AN OLD SMOKKIl. 
 
 piufesHt'd object that Im.s ('n^njjfCM! the attoiition of the 
 Moralist, tlie I)eiiiai;ogue, and the Evangelist, in every 
 phase of huniaii existence, — through struggling genera- 
 tions as far back as we have known those seething, warring 
 elements, Politics and Keligion. , 
 
 • ^- 
 
 Meanwhile the tendency of all this laudable interces- 
 sion has been and is, (whether fortunately or otlierwise)* 
 to inculcate and foster new ideas, envolving our fathers 
 in the past (and in the entail, our children in the futun») 
 in a heritage of unseemly controversy which, under the 
 pretext of glorifying causes, has been pushed to extre- 
 mities. Thus strife is engendered, — war precipitated, — 
 and the result, — failure — or, at best, such a patched 
 up compromise as leads to further contention and later 
 to a resumption of hostilities. The charge of failure, in 
 this connection would no doubt be denied, as botli 
 sides generally claim a triumph ; but, notwithstandinL,^ 
 the great bulwark of authorities and opinions to the 
 contrary, it does seem to my humble perceptive faculties 
 most conclusively evident that, the upshot of each of tlu> 
 innumerable ciiisades attempted in the vii-tue of the one 
 side against the so-called iniquity of the other, following 
 the rule of circumambulation, has been and will be simi)]y 
 to bring us back to somewhere in the hazy past where 
 all our opinions seem to have diverged, and whence we 
 started. Thus the end of one conflict has been, and is to 
 be, the beginning of another. 
 
AMNf-STY. 
 
 295 
 
 This I Ih^Hcvc may Ik; said witli only tmj much truih of 
 
 many 
 
 of 
 
 be.- 
 
 works, and a great deal of our 
 lM)a.st«d enterprise ; indeed, it is no idle hallucination to 
 assume, as I do heroin, that we have been for hund^e;^8 
 and thousands of years circling round a magic pivot ternu'd 
 the " Millennium," and calling the rotary exercise " pro- 
 gress;" at the same time looking back with contempt on 
 the foot prints of past generations, we call the last step 
 in our own " civilization." Occasionally we discover along 
 the line of march, signs of having been over the route be- 
 fore; that is, we sec directly confronting us or remotely 
 looming up ahead, virtually the siime obstacles tliat pre- 
 sented themselves, and that we undei-stood were overcome, 
 may be centuries ago; and this application may be carried 
 as far back as that remote age when necessity first con- 
 spired with expedient, and locomotion first suggested ob- 
 stacle. So it is, that nearer our own time we see old 
 wounds that were inflicted in the ware of the Huguenot 
 and Puritan, the Catholic and Jacobin, breaking out and 
 bleeding afresh and witness all about us, and menacing 
 our future, atrocities perpetrated in the names of reform 
 and religion, that bear a striking resemblance to the bar- 
 barity of St. Bartholemew, and the fanaticism of that 
 human grill of Smithfield. 
 
 But what does all this show ? It shows that the great 
 work of reconciliation, notwithstanding our splendid and 
 flourishing system of philanthropic and evangelical enter- 
 prise, has not been accomplished ; and taking the amount 
 of dissension as a criterion, it is not even commenced. It 
 
 
 
 \ I 
 
29C 
 
 IIEVERIKS OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 
 •HfH 
 
 mKii''" ' *' 
 
 li^'if 
 
 |m ., 1 
 
 |te 
 
 
 MiilUHMP' 
 
 
 would seem unfair to allege that the stint has been alto- 
 gether neglected, and may be a great deal has been done ; 
 but we have been so much absorbed in doctrinal contro- 
 versy and in sectarian triumph, as to overlook the main 
 object underlying all our exertion. 
 
 In one sense it is true, we have kept the good work of 
 amnesty before us, but such a long way ahead that, so fni- 
 as our little world is concerned, the worthy object may 
 have, and very likely has, lost its centripetal force, and 
 been attracted to some other planet ; at all events, it 
 seems to have left our sphere. Maybe it is temporarily 
 absent in search of the millenium, or wandering about 
 somewhere on this terrestrial home of ours in some in- 
 explicable disguise — circling round, as it were, resurrect- 
 ing and beautifying some dusty landmark whose term of 
 purgatorial) probation is ended. Thus, instead of com- 
 ing down like a beaconlight ajid commencing with us and 
 our generation, it is groping its sluggish way along behind, 
 and will reach us at a later day when, in the pride of onr 
 humiliation, the dust of our monuments shall have 
 mingled with the ashes of our ancestors ! ! But where, 
 let us inquire, are those good shepherds in whose care 
 was entrusted that most volatile of all properties, am- 
 nesty ? Well, there are those amongst us whose duty 
 and calling it has been to go out as did the dove of old, 
 and reclaim the lost spirit of brotherly love; but,alas,they 
 leave us on their errand of grace, and, like the raven, 
 never return. They perish uy the way; or, making a 
 luxuiy of the " olive branch," they stay and roost there — 
 
AMNESTY. 
 
 207 
 
 awaiting witli the cunning of the possum and tlie supine 
 idiocy of the owl, the twilight that shall usher in the 
 vesper-call of Gabriel ! 
 
 In the above connection we may remark, that while the 
 breach occasioned in the conflict of rival sects is not 
 unfrequently made the bloodless arena of clerical hero- 
 ism, it is rather in the trivi.al affairs of social intercourse 
 are planted the germs of universal love and of univereal 
 pacification ; and out of the tropical beams of the fireside 
 spring a fruitful vegetation and golden harvest that may 
 not s])rout and grow in the dim light and frosty air of 
 cloister and pulpit. We may not address masses of men 
 as we would individuals, and those dry, didactic utter- 
 ances discharged in the stiff order of professional rou- 
 tine, while they may not lack in many of the requirements 
 necessary in the elucidation of doctrine, are too fre- 
 quently, even in their highest erudition, only a fine spe- 
 cies of prosodical mosaic, manipulated with all the cold, 
 polished asceticism of faultless art. They may appeal to 
 the ear as gracefully chiselled marble to the eye, and 
 some of these models, amongst connoisseurs, seem indeed 
 more hiofhlv esteemed than flesh and blood. 
 
 My "bump "of reverence may be abnormally small, but 
 I have to admit, it is absolutely wanting in appreciation 
 for the sort of pious automaton to whom this description 
 applies. They are the bloodless incarnation of a phlegm — 
 their voice, the aimless barking of a rheum ! This may 
 
 I III 
 
 )! I 
 
 I 
 
I 
 
 298 
 
 REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 -I 
 
 ! 
 
 seem like extravagant language as applied even in excep- 
 tional cases ; and yet I claim theirs as applied to us, is not 
 that of a sympathetic spirit, conscious of other's pain and 
 peril — with voice vibrating in the trembling yearning 
 solicitude of that great ordeal of suffering which we are all 
 standing by and contemplating ! Nay, 'tis rather the mo- 
 notonous, hastily-despatched jargon pronounced, in the of- 
 ficial discharge of an unpleasant duty, over the odorifer- 
 ous clay of spent humanity. Besides, their apathetic pan- 
 tomime ever so gracefully "entoned " to masses, falls as 
 far short of individual application as the spasmodic zeal of 
 the partisan overshoots the mark ; and the blank car- 
 tridges of the one, and the random discharges of whole 
 broadsides of invective by the other, are blended in the 
 smoke and brimstone of a species of sham warfare, that 
 has for its prototype the early battles of the church. All, 
 too, so far at variance with the good work of pacification 
 — let alone evangelization — that Christian brothers and 
 "societies," professing a fraternal "grip" with all man- 
 kind, gather in those once gory fields — that would and 
 ought to be smiling, fruitful meadow-lands — and with in- 
 sufficient provocation to commend even their prejudice, 
 unearth the skeleton of defunct antagonism, and in tlir 
 spell of an abominable incantation, rake with bony hands 
 the ashes of an ancient grudge ! r I ^ ^ ,^ ^ 
 
 XI. 
 
 ..-ijft^- 
 
 In my own behalf, however, I may say if called upon 
 to choose between the drone and the rhapsodist, I should 
 
AMNESTY. 
 
 290 
 
 Ijc disposed to favour the lattei* ; not that he is my ideal 
 of what he should be, but all mingled as we are with the 
 failing, and dying, and dead, I cleave to whatever exhil Jts 
 the most unmistakeable signs of life, and vigor, and 
 animation. Indeed, I have no fellowship for that ghastly 
 caution which says of silence, it is " golden," — no more 
 than for that other dreadful inertia where nothinsr moves 
 and all is still. ; 
 
 Of the above preceptors one preaches by rote, the other 
 dilates upon the record ; one entones a dead ritual, the 
 other vocalizes a living thought ; one rivets his opinions 
 to set forms, the other emancipates ideas, and fosters liberty 
 of expression. — Both take their text from Holy Writ, but 
 while one gives it the strict interpretion of his " school," 
 and is stifled in the narrow crevice of his " creed," the other 
 leavens it with the promptings of impulse, and sprinkles it 
 over with the fertile gleanings of miscellaneous reading. 
 One is fixed in a system of dogmas changeless as the solar 
 constellation, the other enjoys in the free use of his faculties 
 a perceptive and responsive power as wise and as necessary 
 as the cause he ad\ocates. — The first is correct according 
 to his " standard," and the last as near right as the con- 
 science from which he speaks ; the former at best is the 
 obedient servant, all zeal for the master, the latter, the 
 loving brother, all sympathy for the slave. Finally, both 
 are wrong in proportion as they adhere to our corrupt 
 version of old time impression and resist that gentle op- 
 ponent of rusty prejudice which, coming in the persua- 
 sive guise of some tempting need, advocates that modifi- 
 
 1 1 
 ^ 
 
 ; 
 
 . .' 
 
 » 
 
 
 * ( 
 
300 
 
 RKVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKEU. 
 
 W: 
 
 ■ 5 T"#5 I . 
 
 cation of ideas which is as much a necessity, and as 
 natural a growth as the improved vegetation of the eartli. 
 
 Apropos of advancement, it may be seen that I do not 
 mean that which is striving for the van — aye, crowding for- 
 ward to arrive and complete everything in a day, a year or 
 a generation ; and in this respect it appears to me this iif^v 
 of enterprise is surpassing not only others but itself. The 
 fact is there is a subtle element of progress inherent in 
 all things based upon latent qualities of good that lie 
 dormant or covered up until the veil shall be drawn, or 
 which, crumbling away piece-meal, like husks, disclose the 
 fruit so wisely fostered but concealed till the sublime 
 hour of perfect fruition. And herein lies an essential 
 evidence of equality in man, and the germs of universal 
 amnesty. Some of these husks are smooth and beautiful, 
 some rough and repulsive ; but beneath the outward aspect 
 is nourished a kernel whose perfection indicates the all 
 perfect foresight and impartiality of the Creator. 
 
 That some of these should be sweet, and some sour, and 
 many bitter and disagreeable, is only a matter of taste and 
 not a defect in the thing itself ; a peculiarity rather, of the 
 palate that should not be taken as a common standaid of 
 good and bad — of our likes and dislikes perhaps, but not of 
 our wholesale approbation and condemnation. While, 
 however, we find some of these husks natural, many are 
 artificial ; and here we may note particularly, that in the 
 clearing away of much of this outer garbage, and, in the 
 truthful development of fact, there is a wholesome ten- 
 dency to wear off, if not entirely to obliterate, many of 
 
AMNESTY. 
 
 301 
 
 the glaring differences that characterize individuals and 
 classes and sects. Then, while there conies out of the 
 downhill side of life many redeeming traits, we have only 
 to glance upward along the higher incline, to see revealed 
 in that pampered realm a downward slide and a lament- 
 able drooping and dwindling away of splendidly adorned 
 mediocrities. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 We find artificial husks everywhere. Indeed, many of 
 the acquirements with which the "cultured" classes plume 
 themselves, and set up in contempt against the humble and 
 illiterate, are no more than the thin-skinned ornament of 
 mere outer embellishment; and much, too, that is attributed 
 to our boasted " higher enlightenment," we find, in truth, 
 founded upon a substrata of information, ingenious and 
 entertaining, no doubt, but to a great extent artificial and 
 false. This is not true simply of the fashicmable novice, 
 but also of the erudite professor, and applies as well to the 
 teacher as the pupil. " ' ' 
 
 In that literature and learning which form such a goodly 
 share of our industriously garnered wealth, how little, 
 strictly speaking, is the quantity of grain to the enormous 
 bulk of chaff, — and yet we may justly add, how large the 
 kernel of precept imbedded in an almost impenetrable outer 
 growth of husk. This husk, in some cases, may be likened 
 to a sort of fungus obtruding itself in a most unhealthy 
 form ; not unfrequently, too, springing U[) in sacred soil, 
 it seems after a time to have inherited the reverential at \ 
 tributes of ^hallowed birth ; but while ins^)iring, as it may 
 
 ■i! 
 
 - : I ! 
 
 I.! 
 
 !t 
 
302 
 
 REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 ¥$* 
 
 
 often do, the pious conservatism of a denomination or sect, 
 and appealing to the kindest, purest instincts of a people, it 
 is none the less a scabby excrescence. Then it is, that the 
 incursion of an alien power or other ruthless element, to 
 do what in love and tenderness we may not have the 
 nerve or heart to do, is a healthful GoJ-send to a nation, 
 if not a general blessing to mankind. 
 
 There is one feature about our historical literature, too, 
 the importance of which may not be overlooked here. — I 
 mean its sanctimonious glorification of such brutal atro- 
 cities as happen to be on the right side. And to this we in 
 no small degree owe the fact, that to-day we stand by tlie 
 " fire eaters" of the 16th century, and with all their fanat- 
 icism, with all their hostility — with none of their provoca- 
 tion, with none of their sincerity, — we, their posterity, in 
 this remote land of mutual hope, and fear, and trust, con- 
 gregate in our temples, and there, ignoring the death 
 harvest of three hundred years of oblivion and reform, 
 and the pathetic appeal of six generations of prayer and 
 suffering for amnesty, bridge over the "bloody chasm" 
 that separates us from, and brings us into closer com- 
 munion with, that damning epoch of historical and re- 
 ligious feud, — and shoulder to shoulder, heart to heart, 
 and hand in hand, — marshalled under our respective 
 banners, fight over and over again, in abominable mimicry, 
 the squabbles and battles of Church and Creed, and ex- 
 ult in the goiy triumphs of their conflicts and their 
 victories! 
 
AMNESTY. 
 
 303 
 
 We are admonished that " sufficient unto the day is the 
 evil thereof," but that applies only to those who can neither 
 read nor write ; it is reserved, rather for cultured soil, and 
 that harrowing medium, the professional demagogue, the 
 enlightened mission of transplanting the seeds of partisan 
 record, and through them perpetuating the ills of other 
 (lays. Nay, not even the poor and the illiterate are spared 
 the baleful heritage ; they and all are made, — in the 
 never-ending obsequies of the past — to reanimate the 
 grievances of the Huguenot, — to re-echo the war-cry of the 
 Covenanter, — and to sanctify the "cant" of the Puiitan. 
 It is not that we admire them so much, or that we feel 
 80 especially grateful for or unanimous about their doc- 
 trines ; nay, it is imperative that we maintain the role, 
 not simply of " Christians," but of " Protestants." The fact 
 is, we are just sufficiently at variance with the old reform- 
 ers to be haunted with an uneasy apprehension of relaps- 
 ing ; and the situation is thus made to appear a good deal 
 like that of a timid man clinging to the steep incline of a 
 slippery roof. But while there is no more sense in it than 
 in whistling because we are afraid or to keep awake, we 
 keep alive prejudice without having the confidence to con- 
 fess, or the manliness to disown it. 
 
 \ XIII. 
 
 In this emergency we turn again and again to a select 
 few in our midst who may be called the good shepherds 
 of "• Peace on earth and good-will toward men." If there 
 be one blessing more than another, for which the lower 
 
 
304 
 
 llEVERIES OK AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 k4* 
 
 * 
 
 claHses are in<lebted to the upper stratum, it is the preach- 
 ing which, with ail the professed simplicity of our oitho- 
 doxy, can only emanate in its purity and highest essence 
 from those who make the study of truth a profession. 1 
 weuld not detract from the efforts of earnest workers in 
 this vineyard ; but what arc the peculiar traits or acquire- 
 ments possessed by these particular individuals, so mucli 
 out of common with man's natural endowments as to make 
 them not only profess to be, but really seem pre ternatu rally 
 divine and immaculate beyond question ? In other words, 
 wherein lies the virtue of their especial and exclusive eligi- 
 bility to holy office? - ■■■'■■ 
 
 Take the young fledgling of to-day — not only aspir- 
 ing to, but initiated into the business of saving souls — 
 let us examine him practically, as we would an appli- 
 cant for a certificate to sail a great ocean-steamship 
 freighted with human life, and what do we find. Why, an 
 ordinary individual whose education consists mainly in 
 his having acquired an aptitude in reciting a stereotyped 
 solution of certain abstruse problems pertaining to his 
 profession — problems which outline, like a system of bul- 
 warks, the dogmatical stronghold of his creed. As the 
 soundness of his theology, however, does not admit of 
 mathematical demonstration he falls back on the conven- 
 ient and hackneyed expedient of faith ; and believing, may 
 be conscientiously, it is his duty to feel as strongly as pos- 
 sible, he has set to work and read up till he is crammed and 
 saturated with the malignant prejudice and antagonism that 
 distinguished the early Reformer. Then, when charged and 
 
 ir 
 
AMNKSTV. 
 
 305 
 
 the preach- 
 our oilho- 
 est essence 
 jfessiou. I 
 workers in 
 J or acquire- 
 rs, so much 
 s as to make 
 ternaturally 
 other words, 
 elusive eligi- 
 
 soaked to repletion, if he he an eneriL,'etitr talker, lie straiirht- 
 vvay l)econi(\s the imhifati^^ahle mouth-piece and hell-we- 
 ther of a whole congregation of higotry an<l hypocrisy. — 
 Aye, and with a voluhility erroneously duhhed elo(pience, 
 opening up the flood-gates of invective, in the sanie 
 hreath that he preaches paradise for his own flock ho 
 invokes perdition on rival sects. Meanwhile, what is 
 the most forcible truth to be deduced from all this 
 man's exertion i Why, he has shown, incontestably, 
 that the venom, narrowmindedness and meanness that ob- 
 tained in times past, and from which we claim ex<'mption, 
 have not snuply had their warping influence on the j)re- 
 sent, but that with the constantly reanimated impulse 
 of clerical and political partisanship, they flourish to-day 
 in all their pristine strength ; they may take upon them- 
 selves more acceptable forms, and they do ; but these and 
 other like monstrosities, we identify with our household 
 gods, and have come to regard them only as laj)-dogs, hob- 
 bies and pet- weaknesses. Nay, these very qualities, so 
 characteristic of the brute, are neither annihilated nor even 
 decimated ; on the contrary, they have not only multiplied 
 with the increased population of the earth, but with the 
 rapacity of their instincts, have fattened in the luxury of 
 greater indulgence, — till the major part of them have be- 
 come, through very obesity, so unwieldy and inert, that they 
 seem good-natured and may be harndess ; but poke them 
 up a bit, as it happens sometimes they are, and we see 
 only too significant signs of those barbarous propensities 
 which were once drowned, as Scripture assures us (like 
 T 
 
 
 ^^ 
 
 : r 
 
M] 
 
 REVEIUKS OF AN Ot.D SMoKKU. 
 
 'I i' 
 
 4 
 
 rats), in a flood, arnl which only need a little starviii^jr and 
 i^oading to make them the lean and hnngry mon.sters wo 
 claim extinct. Now when we reflect that the poor, tlio 
 destitute and the oppressed, are undergoing this goading, 
 excoriating proccsH, if anything would disprove my as- 
 sumption of unmitigated barharism, it is that this class 
 should bear the onleal so well. 
 
 XIV. 's ,^ ■.'. ;■:■,,,„,:..:• 
 
 In one sense, this })ig world of ours is a great railway- 
 station where people are arriving constantly and are 
 waiting with their little packs in hand to take passage to 
 foreign parts. The walls are plastered all over with 
 ])lacards, some with red and diverse-colored letters, settiii;^' 
 forth tiie })eculiar a<l vantages of the diflTerent ways of 
 reaching the particular " Eldorado" which all seem to hav<> 
 in view. There are three classes provided for : saloon, 
 int^nnediate, and steerage. — The fii"st is luxurious and 
 expensive; the second not so stylish but comfortable ; 
 the third peculiarly adapted to the lower class to w1h)iii 
 the sort of accommodation is no object so they roacli 
 their destination in safety. Here as we look about us soiiie- 
 what bewildered, we are pounced upon by some dozens of 
 liveried officials representing the different companies. 
 These latter individuals vary, naiitically s})eaking, all thf 
 way from the evangelical " crimp" to the ecclesiastical ice 
 berg ; some are vocifei'ating and gesticulating in a violent 
 and excited manner ; others hang back and are more dig- 
 nified, as if assured of the superior inducements of their 
 
AMNKSTY. 
 
 l\Ol 
 
 line; aiitl, iiotwiUistjinding tlur fonniMarc so anxious un«l 
 solicitons, tlu; latter seem calm and indirt'ercnt. All aro 
 regularly licensed forwarders, but it is very easy to dis- 
 tinguish those among them who enjoy a moimpoly as old 
 linns, an<l especially those <lisp«'nsing governmtMit pjitron- 
 age. One of the most forward says authoritativt^ly, — 
 "come with me!" and, as in the impulseof a thing habitual, 
 makes as if to relieve us of our little pack ; l>ut we cling 
 to it lovingly and beg him not to be so hasty. While 
 their manners, particularly among themselves, do not al- 
 ways seem to commend their ollices, their demeanor gener- 
 ally is that of professionals; being not uidike what we have 
 observed in matter of fact, business-like dentists, sur- 
 •,'eons, and undertakers who are very nmch sought after 
 and greatly pressed for time ; in<leed, they even carry about 
 lliem the sepulchral odors of their craft. 
 
 A(kled to this, too, the way some of them have of going 
 nt one seems horribly suggestive of the work in liand, and 
 they make no stint of parading before our dazed and terri- 
 lied vision all the aj)palling preliminaries of the dreadful 
 ordeal that awaits us. 80 it is we shrink aw*ay with a le- 
 iiewed relish for the good things of life, and say to these 
 liveried gentry — who would take possession of us and our 
 little bundle,and put the brand of their dreadful monogram 
 on our quivering heart, its loves and pleasures — 1 pritheo 
 wait a while. But then, as if our dilennna encouraged the 
 others, they all make towards us as by one impulse and 
 hedge us round; and a dreadful controversy as to which 
 shall have us, is opened up and waxes warm. 
 
nos 
 
 nEVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKKR. 
 
 Their abuse of each other, iiieaiiwhilc, im altetiiaieil hy 
 .sundiy direct appeals to us : one sayH, — don't go hy such 
 ami such a line — " they only cany cattle " — "they are not 
 decked over," an<l are wanting in " modern conveniences;" 
 they are not *' Clyde built," or they aie not " clasMed at 
 Lloyds." Wo are advise<l that the coui-se taken by soinu 
 is too " high," — that we shall get frozen in ; then, thr oppo- 
 sition retort against this by enumerating all the dreadful 
 contingencies of the more tropical route ; and we are 
 almost j)ersuaded at the mention of perplexing currents, 
 treacherous gulf-storms, and devastating typhoons. Ah, if 
 we take the opinion that each of these entertains against 
 the other, we must perforce condenm them all ; and we re- 
 flect that there may be more truth than scepticism in say- 
 ing to ourselves : — Alas, not our poor heathen, but the im- 
 peccable shepherds, how may they be saved ! 
 
 XV. 
 
 
 I 
 
 
 • -(111 , 
 
 1^- 
 
 Am I depreciating an excellent class of men whose snl>- 
 lime mission I envy ? If so, I am perpetrating an atro- 
 cious libel in this criticism, but then, in warning the poor 
 man against them, only rendering the more consj)icuous 
 those opposite qualities that prove it false. 
 
 However that may be, I confess I cannot listen to tlie 
 majority of these men and drink in all they have to say, 
 as the thirsty wanderers of the desert quaff the crystal 
 liquid of their own precious oasis; aye, and feel at the same 
 time that delightful quenching of a thirst that nauglit 
 but immortality can slake. The fact is, we see the average 
 
AMNKHTY. 
 
 nof) 
 
 pix^aclicr of t<)-«lay ascend the taporinj,' tempio of his o!V(»«|, 
 jiiulfroin th«» summit of that iianowpiimarlcexpoiimlrtcon 
 t'Option of (lod's love and nwrcy an eramprd as the iittl«i 
 scope in which lie is raihMl. Socially he is tlu' amial>le 
 fiien«l and patron of all he periodically preaches afifainst and 
 condemna ; but here, ami<l the hushed aw«; of the livin". 
 surrounded !)y the mute hut expressive syndwjlsof a faith 
 professin«^only peaceand«;ood-will,notunfie((u«'Mtly Iwdost'H 
 his imlividuality as man in the sa ' t !y chaia<'ter of vicar. 
 Then it is we see before us the living', mo<l»'rn representa- 
 tive of the old time apostle ; which, accordinj^ to our modem 
 church interpretation, as demonstrab'd by tliis example, is 
 a very ordinary compound of such a rrputable trinity as 
 bigot, partisan, ranter. H<' mounts his pulpit, clad in tluj 
 neutral garb of an evangelical order — his countenance con- 
 gealing in the passionless chill of the cloister — and presto ! 
 the transformation begins. " 'Tis then he sniffs the battle 
 from afar," and shines down upon his congregation " in the 
 full panoply of war." Contention is to him a luxiny— the 
 SaVdmth the annivei-sary of pious warfare. True, he may not 
 fight the battles in whose triumphs he gloiies, but bravely, 
 heroically, he throws himself into the bloody breacli of 
 ensanguined history and ))ravery, hei-oically, entonf;s the 
 war-cry of a passed generation. 
 
 On this gladsome day of rest the Lord of Light is smiling 
 down upon his people in such a wealth of sunshine; as would 
 draw bird-soniTs from .snow-banks; but the effect on this di- 
 vine proxy is only to thaw away a gi<?ater torrent of ill-hu- 
 mor and he overshadows all about him in the j)f)rt<'ntous 
 
 n 
 
 I 
 
310 
 
 REVERU]S OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 IIK 
 
 
 11 
 
 P' 
 
 ^:i 
 
 
 If 
 
 -i 
 
 B'iii«# i 
 
 f 4 ' 1 
 
 MffiS^I 
 
 '1 ' f 
 
 ^■^RBfUrakL 
 
 1 'i ". 
 
 
 i 1 7 
 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 
 cloud of his little storm. It is then we hear the snivelliuir 
 refrain of the Puritan — the battle cry of the Covenanter — 
 the wail of the Huguenot; and while the groan of the 
 Martyr is blended with the menace of the Protestant, the 
 screams of "Smithfield" mingle with the moanings of the 
 Inquisitioii. But who is this hostile interpreter of a faith 
 not his own — this pious burlesque of a cause sublime ? 
 Whence issues that torrent of coarse invective that follows 
 to this day the discarded fugitive, King James, and heaps 
 obloquy on harassed " bloody" Queen Mary ? Who is it, 
 do v/e ask ? Why his " name is legion; " and condensed all 
 into one, I can dispose of them in no truer or more ap- 
 propriate language than to say, — it is the bleached skeleton 
 of the sixteenth century, grinning through the gloomy 
 lapse of three hundred years, — and denouncing as victims 
 those in our midst, who may bear the name and have 
 none of the faults attributed to those who were con- 
 demned in that early age. Aye, it is ev^en worse now than 
 it was then — it is farcical and does not rise to the dignity 
 of real tragedy. 
 
 No ; we cannot leave the work of Amnesty to our good 
 shepherds; they are working like our demagogues and 
 others against that harmony of opinion and simplification 
 of doctrine that would wipe out differences and obliter- 
 ate professions. Nay; tliey are no exception to our lawyers 
 and doctors who would mystify their business in order to 
 enhance the importance of their services. This state of 
 things does not simply retard the promised reign of 
 " Peace on earth," but it conflicts with our professed exor- 
 
AMNESTY. 
 
 ;ui 
 
 cise of an enlightened policy ; so that, what may and is 
 found from time to time to be unwise and absurd or 
 false and pernicious, very often and for a long time is 
 persistently maintained, and the new light ignored, to 
 keep an institution intact wherein signs of crumbling 
 might shake human faith and disturb the sacred infalli- 
 bility of records. This too, when obdurac}? does not pas^ 
 sively obtrude itself in the way of common sense, but 
 actively sets itself up in opposition to the most pathetio 
 appeals of justice and humanity. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Here we may observe that notwithstanding the ettbrt 
 made to maintain intact, as above stated,all forms, customs, 
 and ceremonies — together with their extended retinues of 
 privilege and perquisite, of prerogative and emolument, — ■ 
 there is a power stronger than the wisdom of our coun- 
 cillors or legislators, whether they pertain to Church or 
 State, and truer in its native intuition than all the 
 learned acumen of our professors and ministers and 
 judges. — It is resisting encroachments in high i)laces and 
 modifying excesses and the instruments by which its good 
 ortices are performed, are found, as in the case of universal 
 suffrage, in the lowest, tlie commonest and the hum- 
 blest in the land. — Those, in fact, whose very poverty and 
 abandonment is, in one sense, a distinctive feature of 
 their fraternity ; and the similarity of whose wants and 
 grievances is not alone the chief element of unanimity, but 
 
"■ 
 
 
 
 312 
 
 REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 a guarantee of that mutual synii)athy which underlies 
 the public weal. 
 
 In close alliance with these, there is another mighty 
 lev eller of aristocratic bastiles, which, while it seems like 
 the other a ruthless destroyer, is the kindest, the most 
 faithful and effective of all retrievers. Empires, dynas- 
 ties, and systems bow before its potent sway ; and 
 probably not the easiest nor first to budge is that op- 
 probrious element in which spite and prejudice have 
 embalmed names, characters, and events, and thus 
 handed them down to posterity and to us as a heritage of 
 hate entailed by the father on the innocent credulity of 
 the child. Unlike '^-he barb we not unfrequently find 
 corroding in the llcsn it brought to dust, the spirit of 
 feudal vengeance is not quiescent ; but as the arm that 
 wielded it becomes paralyzed, it is picked up in turn by 
 younger successors and with increased venom made to 
 rankle, again and again, in the quivering hearts of sub- 
 sequent generations. ' : : V, 
 
 The only power that would seem to cope at all suc- 
 cessfully with this atrocious madness is — Time. Time 
 is the f»reat tireless am i' )rator of ill-will. It mav 
 often seem, and really i ■ ireadfuUy slow and could 
 the one most especially cui.cerned, live in the hope 
 of justification one or two or three centuries, he would 
 see them drag their weary length past to the end, and 
 while he still waited and watched, hear the clock strike the 
 hour which completed that long probation and be admon- 
 ished he must still be patient ; aye, and that he must die 
 
 * >i 
 
 'IH4. 
 
 I 
 
AMNESTY. 
 
 313 
 
 uiivindicated. It is not that Time is waitinnr for our drao*- 
 ging system of evangelism to catch up with and direct the 
 good work of Amnesty, nor that its virtues may oidy 
 be developed through the slow progress made by our pio- 
 neers in their eftbrts to civilize. Indeed, it works in one 
 sense, independently of them, and frequently the two are 
 so much at variance that what the one com[)letes in reve- 
 rence the other topples over with indifference. And yet, 
 notwithstanding our difficulty in reconciling our actions 
 to Time's decrees while living, insensibly it is working in 
 many ways for our good, and long after we have been de- 
 prived of other means to justify our deeds, it gainers up 
 and cherishes those redeeming traits by which they are 
 vindicated and that we are held in kindly remembrance. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 There are many evidences that go far to place Time not 
 only in the first rank of pacificators, Tmt to entitle it as 
 we have said to the rare distinction of Ijein^j the cjreatest 
 and most effectual ameliorator of ill-will. It is a com- 
 mon saying that " second thoughts are always best " — they 
 are certainly kindest — and if the fraction of a second is 
 sufficient to change the harsh retort into a gentle response, 
 then what may be expected of months, years, centuries ? 
 Even great qualities may not be fully appreciated, in fact 
 they rarely are till time has sanctified them and then they 
 stand out pure and noble and are beloved and emulated. 
 So it is with deeds of the past; and much of that evil that 
 stigmatized a formei- age and rendered its people dospiea- 
 
 fi 
 
 it'i 
 
314 
 
 REVERIKS OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 I if; 
 
 r1 i 
 
 ble, has grown obsolete as the flesh that inspired it moul- 
 dered away into dust. Then, the better spirit which re- 
 trieves is alone remembered, and disembarrassed of the 
 baser material, comes to be regarded as the most perfect of 
 all virtue, the most exemplary of all goodness. 
 
 Thus it is that all true greatness is retrospective, as 
 also the little of good-nature inherent in all and even 
 the worst actions; and, in this way, the very atrocities 
 of a remote age have sought and found absolution in 
 lapse of time. Then, as the strongholds of medi- 
 aeval vice and arrogance crumble away, the outlines 
 that still remain are treasured up and pointed to in 
 this age as trophies won by the higher order of en- 
 lightenment, from the older period of so-called darkness 
 and tyranny; and even in the association of two such oppos- 
 ing elements, time has eked out a better comprehension of 
 truth, and — we might at least hope — a kindlier spirit of 
 forgiveness. 
 
 We point to the Tower of London, or to the Dun- 
 geons of the Inquisition, and those grimy tableaux over- 
 shadowed as they are with historic deeds of darkness, be- 
 token all that was once most cruel and barbarous. Cries 
 long hushed in anguish seem re-animated and to call for 
 vengeance ; but we enter and see the hand- writing on the 
 walls, — there too are the " rack," the " block," the " axe," 
 all worn and hacked and nicked in a use the most dread- 
 ful and appalling, — and we weep and turn from the bloody 
 reminiscences only with a softened feeling of pity. So it 
 is, also, that the ** cross," the " spikes/' the " crown of 
 
 "i 
 
AMNKSTY. 
 
 315 
 
 thorns," once the instruments of a ili{il)oliciil assassination 
 are come to be regarded, not as the gh.'istly souvenirs of 
 " man's inhumanity to man," but as the most precious 
 symbols of that new and happier destiny wherein tlio 
 " end justifies the means. We do not regard the deed as 
 tlie crime of the few only, but as a reproach to the whole 
 human race ; we do not even condemn the perpetrators— 
 we cannot ; they were only the meaner instruments in the 
 partial execution of a great design and " they knew not 
 what they did." 
 
 What I have said, by way of tribute, of redeeming fea- 
 tures in what seems a dreadful scourge, I have said and 
 believe to be true ; but while this view obtains in a cer- 
 tain retrieving sense as regards the faults of a people, and 
 as such J apply it gladly, nevertheless, the thought of 
 Time as the ravager which it is so natural to feel it to be, 
 intrudes itself like a black pall even in the effort to speak 
 kindly of it, and hence, I yield my guerdon of praise 
 grudgingly, joylessly. — It is, indeed, an eulogy in which 
 pathos deepens into pain ; insomuch that notwithstanding 
 the blessedness of Time's redemption one feels in the im- 
 pulse of the flesh a yearning tenderness to get back again 
 that precious boon, — the price it costs ! It is inexpres- 
 sibly sad that Time, which robs us of our youth, our 
 beauty, our love, our life, — may alone come to tlie rescue 
 of our good name. — Nay, but then, as if remorseful for 
 the havoc it has made, it comes back, a dove to tell us, 
 " wrath has been appeased," and that " the elements have 
 subsided," Time ! thou dreaded chastener, art indeed our 
 
 ■ ■ 1 1 
 
 i: 
 
316 
 
 REVERIKS OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 J;.. 
 
 mmh\ 
 
 14* ' 
 
 
 lit * 
 
 friend ? — it is a lon<^ sleep we liave cuddled in thy lap, 
 but there is a consolation in knowing that when wo 
 wake, the voracious monster that would devour all kindly 
 remembrance shall have vanished, and in its place there 
 Hit, fanning our face with its perfumed wing, only tho 
 harmless butterfly. Go back to earth thou tiny thing and 
 bid those who love us rejoice ! — for time is oblivion, and 
 spite losing its venom in forgetfulness, turns from the 
 chrysalis of a crawling worm — takes wings and flies 
 away !! 
 
 ;,,;•. .; XVIII. ^ ,:_ , ^ ;■ . ;1,,,:;: ' 
 
 At this juncture, in what I trust may not have been 
 altogether an unpardonable digression, and bearing in 
 mind whatever lessons may be gleaned from the forego- 
 ing, we now turn our attention to a portion of that class 
 whom we introduced in another part under the head of 
 failure. There is a tier of failure amongst failures, as 
 much under that we have refeired to as it, in its turn, is 
 lower than the comparatively successful stage above. And 
 here let me say, whoever may be disposed to favor thoso 
 in this, the lowest grade, need not despair if he looks only 
 to his clients and himself for encouragement; for, notwith- 
 standing the obstacles cast in their way by those who may 
 seek to disparage their cause, he will find no greater dif- 
 ficulties than that shabby pair Truth and Merit, them- 
 selves, often have in proving and establishing their claims 
 to consideration and patronage. 
 
AMNESTY. 
 
 317 
 
 It is obsoi'vablc that Benevolence, in the broad tieM ami 
 abundant variety outspread before it, <^enerally, and I may 
 say naturally, sheds the light of its benignant countenance 
 not on the darkest but brightest spots; selecting, invariably, 
 such cases as seem most entitled to "charitable" distinction. 
 These latter constitute the oases in the broad desert; 
 the fortunate ones amongst the unfortunate, and represent, 
 of course, the most exemplary distress. In my hundjle ef- 
 forts in behalf of the unfortunate generally, it is not my 
 purpose, however agreeable the task might be, to advo- 
 cate that virtuous sympathy which culls out those par- 
 ticularly whose qualifications render them especially 
 eligible to succor, and who manage, under the most criti- 
 cal inspection, to come up to the high-toned, exclusive 
 standard which it is thought proper in these cases to bring 
 to bear. I desire it to be understood, however, it is not 
 that I bear the set last referred to any malice, that I don't 
 go in all for them as others do ; nay, it is because these 
 favored ones are so abundantly able to maintain their 
 own character without any help, that I curtail my good 
 offices. In fact, I could say nothing to improve their con- 
 dition in this respect, and any attempt on my part might 
 result in my making myself disagreeable ; besides, novice 
 as I am, I might blunder and injure a cause in which 
 many of them are a professional, not to say, beggarly sort 
 of success. Mind, I do not exclude them, but those others 
 in whose behalf I would seek to raise the most pathetic 
 notes in my weak voice, and touch most gently and lov- 
 ingly the tenderest chords in human sympathy, include 
 
 I 
 
 i ! ,li 
 
 •v'# ■ 
 

 r '.i 
 
 318 
 
 RKVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER 
 
 those who are so low and degraded that J, at least, am en- 
 coura<xed to feel any effort on my part may not, nay, cannot 
 result in their further dispamgement or abasement. 
 
 Many of these are not only pronounced by our most re- 
 spectable authorities, but feel themselves, hopelessly de- 
 praved and irrevocably lost, and by all but those similarly 
 situated are utterly and severely abandoned. In the case 
 of many of these, buffeted and kicked from pillar to post, 
 it is impossible for us to realize or it may be to ease their 
 condition. They are so badly off they feel they have for- 
 feited all claim to help of any sort, and much less do they 
 look for any degree of reform or prosperity ; besides, they 
 are too brutalized to be able to look down, as most people 
 can, and be comforted in the reflection there are others worse 
 off than themselves. As all about is scorn and repulsion, 
 they can feel in that quarter no particle of hope, and their 
 little, rapidly-contracting world,on all its four walls, looks 
 black,and grim, and drear. A fashionable exhibit of so- 
 called " charity," may now and then put its gloved hand 
 through the chinks, or, with its embroidered and perfumed 
 handkerchief to its sensitive nose, makes its appearance 
 bodily ; then, indeed, like a bit of canvas to the castaway, 
 even that is no doubt a welcome speck looming in the visi- 
 ble horizon; but there it dwindles away to the infinitesi- 
 mal, leaving only such an impression on the mind as is 
 produced by the latest novelty in the genus nebula. 
 
 IJP4. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 None probably will deny that these poor creatures suf- 
 fer, and I only wish I may be exaggerating when I say 
 
 k-'l I h§: 
 
 -J, 
 
AMNKSTY. 
 
 nin 
 
 one sober, consciouK moment in to tlu'ni hoin's of intoler- 
 able anguish. Lsit surprising or unnatural then, they shouM 
 seek a " Lethe" in wliatever may assuage pain, and offer 
 them ever so brief a respite ? So they <lrain the tk'adi'n- 
 ing (Irauglit with a gladsome sigh, as those in the luxury of 
 liigh-toned moral living would tooth-ache drops ; their 
 only enjoyment being the to tliem inettable bliss that fla- 
 vors the dregs, and tlie abatement, it may be ever so little, 
 of a dreadful, hopeless remoi*se. 
 
 Thisis theclasswhose enormitiesandsufferingsourmoral- 
 agony painters attempt to portray in the luxury of their 
 leisure hours, and it is to them that we are indebted for those 
 dreadful scenes of privation and atrocity depicted, not so 
 much for the benefit of the poor and miserable, as in a 
 warning way to admonish the rich and the gay. That is, 1 
 mean, not so much to mitigate the disti*ess of the former as 
 to season the pleasures of the latter. They are the vile and 
 incorrigible, w- >m our moral doctors have long since given 
 over,orrather ignored altogether, and from whom the better 
 community shrink from in disgust, or point to in triuniph 
 and self -satisfaction, as offering the best reason for their own 
 want of "charity." They are a crouching, shivering, tattered 
 l>and, with minds all debased, pnd their every thought 
 and action seemingly under the baleful dominion of the 
 most abominable brutality and wickedness. 
 
 Can there be anything about this grade of misfortune to 
 invite sympathy ? I maybe committing a grievous error by 
 not joining my voice in the chorus of pious condenmation 
 which consigns these poor creatures to the devil ; I sadly, 
 
 4 !' 
 
 i-N 
 
 ^1, 
 
 i |t 
 
n2o 
 
 REV I RIES OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 
 
 I lour, too, T am wantinj^ in respect for that virtuous iinlii^^- 
 natiou wliicli points to thcin only as illustrating^ the <hea(l- 
 ful ami inevitable judgment visited on all departures from 
 those rules and regulations by which people, aspiring to a 
 very high reward and a supe?-abundant felicity, feel it 
 worth while to be guided. 
 
 Here it occurd to me a.s being a nice ( question, how- 
 far one can befriend these hopeless ones without givinnj 
 offence. If a kind word in their behalf, for instance, 
 would seem, as it might to some, an eulogy, what will 
 be thought of sucli a shocking misplaoement of philan- 
 thropic eloquence as shall seek in them to embellish 
 even so mean a virtue as, like a lost diamond, may 
 be found glistening in the filth of such degradation. 
 If one sees it, recognises it, and knows it to be genuine, how 
 shall he know exactly what estimate to put upon it? Aye, 
 what shall be the measure of praise to be awarded in our 
 admiration of a jewel so rare, even amongst the best of us, 
 so that while we may not be so shabby as to underrate its 
 real worth, we may not, at the same time, commit the un- 
 pardonable blunder of adding a cypher too much ! 
 
 In other words, if one happen to be so imprudent as to 
 give the reins to his feelings, how may he know when to stop 
 in time so he may not exaggerate their redeeming traits 
 and thereby make them appear too deserving ? To err in 
 this respect would be to commit a most shocking, I may 
 say, an unprecedented im[>ropriety, and yet I think Jus- 
 tice would be the least angry, and the great Judge-in- 
 Equity, Himself, less offended and scandalized 4han those 
 who seek in condemning to forestall his wrath. 
 
AMNKSTV. 
 
 nsi 
 
 )ii.s in<li;j;- 
 ,hc diem I - 
 ures from 
 liring to a 
 :,y, feel it 
 
 itiou, how 
 out giving 
 • instance, 
 what will 
 of philan- 
 embellish 
 
 nond, may 
 esradation. 
 inuine,how 
 nit? Aye, 
 i-ded in our 
 3 best of u«, 
 dcrratc its 
 nit the un- 
 niich ! 
 udent as to 
 hen to stop 
 iiing traits 
 To err in 
 ing, I may 
 think Jus- 
 Judge-in- 
 fehan those 
 
 Wliiic I wuuM not Jihjnio tlic stain- fa<t that dt)les out 
 to them a modicum of credit, I would try and discover in 
 tlie more generous and ever fresli ahundance of imai^ination 
 the nu'ans to polish it up. This is doubtless a poor srasoniii;^ 
 for a crust — a kind word only -and (jfKus notliing, in one 
 sense, eitlier to eat or to driuk or to wear, luit it were a 
 poor tribute, indeed, that did not knead into it a little of 
 the Hpice of better cheer, — a littU? of the mellowing, expand- 
 ing luxury of liope, — and after all a eiunib of that is worth 
 a whole loaf of despair. Far l)e it from my purj^osc; to scre<'n 
 their faults; for in nusfortun»3, and even iid'aniy, these are, 
 in one sense, what the wounds of Roman generals were in 
 glory, only not to exult in, but to mourn over. — Nay, so 
 far^m I from covering them up, that 1 would hamlle them 
 tenderly as hurts all sensitive and pali)itating with ])ain. 
 
 This set is to the m(jre modei'ate tier of failure, what it 
 in its turn is to the v/ell-to-do class, whom we hav<' desig- 
 nated by the term success. Between these strata the 
 lines of demarcation are marketl as l)y the rough edges of 
 (liifting, grating ice, moved by counter currents in oppo- 
 site directions, but all pertaining to one great element, 
 whose general ten<lency is down stream toward a connnon 
 <lestiny. Each one of these grades, to speak in a critical 
 sort of way, may be regarded as a deformity to the orje 
 above it, in all of which, however, exclusion or excepiion 
 Would simply result in general expulsion. 
 
 Having to take the good, bad and indifferent together in 
 the composition of individuals, then why not apply this 
 principle to the grades that go to make up tin- ^leat body 
 U 
 
 I 
 
 
 ^ 4.! 
 
d22 
 
 •mVEIUKS OF 
 
 OU) RMoKF.n. 
 
 of mankind ? an<1 regarding humanity as intact, we mnnt 
 then, as in contracts, take all parts to get at the proper 
 interpretation and estimate of the wliole. In this vi»'w, 
 our triumph:) and defeats, our succeiises and failures, are 
 interlaced in the warp and woof of existence ; and whi li- 
 the woi"st may claim a common identity witli tlie best, 
 the latter may no more shake oif the disahilities of the 
 former than a cripj>le can repudiate his deformity or a 
 bhnd man liis blindness. 
 
 XX. 
 
 i'i\i 
 
 I 1 ' 
 
 \WM'. til 
 
 In looking over the great army of unfortunates, and 
 having regard for that sympathy which may propitiate Am- 
 nesty both in this and in the other world, we need not sto]) 
 to discuss the c \sti(m who is to blame; suttice to say all 
 are to blame; whether the prolific family of Failmv 
 
 brought sufi'ering on themselves oi' were born to it, it is suf- 
 ficient for our purpose to know they are in trouble. Indeetl, 
 their dream of Paradise is only such an Elysium as that 
 which the higher orders possess, although they may not 
 enjoy. Many of them, as we have observed, are degraded 
 and despicable ; whether, however, they seem more so than 
 they really are, is a question turning upon the spirit in 
 which we regard them; but be this as it may, in high tonid 
 nostrils they are in bad odour. They are steerage passcn- 
 engers away forward where the sight and smell of them 
 will not give offence to the more dainty occupants of tlit' 
 grand saloon. They are not named in the list the world 
 sees, but are lumped as fifty or a hundred, more or less, 
 
AMNESTV, 
 
 .Sin 
 
 "Steerage." Each of tlu'so Ims n soul, (loii]»(l«'.ss, aii<l in a 
 j^reator or less (li'^rior all the vuiioiis attrilmtes that "lis- 
 tin<,'uished tlieir worthy progenitor, A(him ; hut then, they 
 are so numerous, besides, their names are of no account, 
 anyway, (except they are lost), so they are tU'signated in 
 lierds. 
 
 As our ortliodoxy would class ihi'in, I lu'lieve over nine- 
 tenths full outside the pale of the ( 'hristian catalogue; and 
 80 they are located, as are the l)arbarous non-descript 
 tribes of interior Africa — tliere, we know is a great exr 
 tent of territory, which is populated, and that is all. We 
 leave it a place in the geograjdiy (of the mind) and to dis- 
 criminate between it and its surroundings, kindly and 
 knowingly give it a dash of pink or yellow. 
 
 Would-be j)hilantln-opists whose sym])athies are intlu- 
 enced very much by pocket-editions of other people's 
 troubles, and humanitarians who suffer many (h'mands 
 on tbeir compassion, like this sort of nua}) very much. 
 They are not troublesome and give all demands on their 
 " charity," the enchantment of distance and the superior 
 attractiveness of a " foreign mission." If, fortunately, the 
 the distressful locality be surrounded by a cool strip of 
 water two or three thousand nules wide, so much the bet- 
 ter, as the boundaries arc moie easily given and main- 
 tained. 
 
 It may be said this is hardly a fair comparison even 
 for the great Arab family amongst us— giving them so 
 much blank space. Well, it must be admitted they 
 do have some characteristics peculiar to civilization. I 
 
 I 
 
 !f 
 
 f,- I 
 
 :. tl 
 
 m 
 
 u. 
 
I! 
 
 
 S24 
 
 llEVEiliteS OP AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 tliink, indt'od, it is possible tbcy liavo degrees of merit, 
 in their way, and "caste," too. Yes, they liave tlieii* 
 grades ; they have their proud and their humble men 
 and women, — to some of whom it is the last ditcli of 
 quondam snobbery and of BeauBrummel-ism. — They have 
 their chiefs and moguls ; their great leaders in social and 
 political economy; their oracles and men of renown. All 
 these and myriads more, and still so far as the upper class 
 of our noble country's good inhabitants are concerned, if 
 they or the thought of them happen to intrude at all, they 
 are dismissed with feelings of contempt and aversion. 
 Tn the eyes of aristocratical evangelism, and with a great 
 many zealous advocates of " foreign missions," their homos 
 are only haunts of wickedness, and the occupants wallow- 
 ing in the filth and mire of moral corruption. Generally 
 speaking, however, they are simply ignored ; or, when 
 forced upon our notice, present about as barren a field for 
 polite observation and cultured study, as the map of Africa 
 or the desert of Sahara. 
 
 It is wonderful to reflect how these people keep pace 
 with " Civilization ;" but they do, that is^ as tho tag-rag 
 and bob-tail one sees on gala-days hanging on to the out- 
 skirts of military bands and Lord Mayor's shows. They 
 are swept by the coat-tails of more important humanity, 
 like dirt, into the cracks and crevices opened up by mean- 
 dering street pageants ; and constitute for the most part, 
 what the parent of Hamlet calls " The blunt monster witli 
 countless heads." They wait upon Czars, welcome Shalis, 
 and gape at royalty, and pull and haul. They vegetate 
 
 xi yiHrar 
 
 Ml .' ! 
 
AMNESTY. 
 
 325 
 
 like mushrooniH, in the damn and <Au(nn of the fetid ni«dit- 
 sliade,and on a given signal rise right up. seemingly from 
 the very pores of the earth, as did the warriors of Clan- 
 Alpine, and disappear as (juickly ; but whence they come 
 and whither they go we know naught nor take the trouble 
 to enquire. At the same time, we have a creeping con- 
 sciousness that all that is most corrupt and diabolical on 
 earth is crowded somewhere within the confines of their 
 murky sphere. 
 
 Were these people not so numerous and so common, we 
 should look upon them as monsters, that it would be some- 
 thing to say we had seen ; as it is we feel it dangerous to 
 get too near. They are to be seen in that most wretched 
 thoroughfare, Radcliffe-High way, in London; in the dirty 
 dens of Wapping, and in the higher-toned penury and 
 vice that flit in the classic shades of Drury-Lane. They 
 have been known to venture as far away from these 
 genial haunts as St. JamCvs' Park, — especially on "Draw- 
 ing-room" days — and have been caught alive staring 
 with blank amazement in at the carriage windows, feast- 
 ing their eyes on the gauzy clouds of silks, and satins, and 
 feathers that go to make up the dazzling and bewildering 
 paraphernalia of titled dames and peerless beauties. Aye, 
 and by such as these, are legar'led, if seen at all, as peo- 
 ple sailing down the back rivers of Florida, look upon 
 the alligators baskin^; in the sun on the banks. 
 
 I w^onder if these great people ever think that that 
 miserable human herd is recruited from some of the best 
 feimilies in the land; that many amongst them, mdeed,coulcl 
 
 kl: 
 
 
I: 
 
 326 
 
 IIKVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 trace their genealogical descent down from a period coeval 
 with the Norman Conquest. Only a slight irregularity in 
 the birth of some, that is all ; l^ut no more than gi-eat 
 people in the past were liable to, even to the extent of 
 makintr the legitimate succession to the "Crown" a matter 
 of high-toned com})etition. Others of these have only fallen 
 from wealth and mere social greatness ; but of all the 
 class of whom we speak these probably constitute the 
 worst ingredients. That is to say, in their obduracy not 
 to become reconciled, they plunge into deeper depra- 
 vity and take on and disgrace those others whose birth- 
 right for the most part is poverty, and whose ways 
 beinof faithful to their antecedents, are in accord with 
 privation and misery. 
 
 In this connection we may add, — can any one who has 
 not experienced it, measure the depth of bitterness that 
 must be felt by this set ; I mean those let down from 
 wealth, reduced from affluence, and whose misfortunes 
 have brought them and their children to this low ebl)' 
 What grave treason have they committed against tho 
 moral sovereignty of the world, to be thus ostracised ? 
 What mysterious law of expiation are they fulfilling, to 
 be thus cast down and humbled in the dust. Talk 
 of trouble, what must these discarded favorites of for- 
 tune suffer, ejected, as it is no exaggeration to pre- 
 sume some have been, from manorial homesteads, where 
 pride and affection may have nourished and venerated tlie 
 kindred growths of generations; many, too, dragged down 
 from positions in a society whose social attvactions, edn- 
 
AMNEvSTY. 
 
 327 
 
 cation, habit and intercourse had not only rendered pleas- 
 ing diversions but vital and necessary ties. And to be 
 thrust, like Daniel, all naked, into a den where to them 
 the beasts, though human, seem even less congenial than 
 lions and not less repulsive than reptiles ! It is kennelling 
 in the vestibule of hell, to be tantalized by all the cher- 
 ished memories of the other Paradise ! — aye, and in compa- 
 rison the fate of Robinson Crusoe — the worst disaster tho 
 most exquisite imagination could devise — were a peaccjful 
 and grateful solace, — and that of the "Iron Mask," or 
 the living tomb of the "Chateau d'lf," a luxury ! 
 
 XXI. 
 
 These select ones probably realize, more acutely than 
 their more brutalized associates, that the miserable sphere 
 into which fate has driven them is, after all, the verita- 
 ble Pandemonium whose terrors, in a way, inspire our zeal 
 to obtain Earth's immunity, and to merit Heaven's eternal 
 exemption. Now, while this Pandemonium amongst us is 
 no classic myth, nevertheless, we may observe in this con- 
 nection, that many of its most obnoxious features come of 
 false and absurd impressions ; and in this case, as in many 
 others, we have obtained our notions of this more miserable 
 [)art of our existence through a medium of gross exagger- 
 ation ; all so far, however, sanctified by expediency as that 
 it strengthens our incentive to work and to pray. 
 
 Indeed, a great deal of our zeal to get a larger share 
 of enjoyment, both in this and tV 3 next world, is anima- 
 ted by placing in contradistinction two extremes, — one 
 
 \'- t 
 
 i;' 
 
828 
 
 REVKllIES OK AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 
 good, the other bad — and we increase the charms of the 
 one by simply adding to tlio horrors of the other ; but 
 as we are bottei- fitted l)y nature to apj)reciate what is bad, 
 that extreme is dilated upon witli a view to fa voting th(j 
 contrast of good. 
 
 To such an excess, however, is tliis process cariied, 
 that parts of our future estate, as well as of our present 
 lieautiful world, are made to appear to our modrni 
 intelligent and naturally libei'al mind, as veritable bug- 
 a-boos ; and, as in the days of paganism, the impsof Satan 
 were made to appear in festive intercourse with certain 
 dwellers of the earth, so now, portions of the human 
 family are thought to have become merged in a species of 
 ghouls, into which the rest of us, if we do so and so, shall 
 also be changed. They say this is the result of not doing 
 as we ought to have done, and to attempt to propitiate or 
 to excuse the aspect of this dreadful antipodes of virtue 
 and rectitude, is about as unorthodox and thankless a 
 task as to endeavor, by any means, to abate, by even so 
 nmch as one jot or tittle, that etei'nity of misery which 
 our theological doctors and churchmen have piously pre- 
 scribed for the souls of the wicked in another Avorld. 
 From this dreadful scare-crow of poverty, brutality, and 
 ignorance, we are made to see our refuge in those agree- 
 able attributes pertaining to an opposite goal of wealtli 
 and refinement. 
 
 Now then, to say our highest acquirements and ad- 
 vancement in this direction leave us virtually no better 
 than those we stigmatize, would be to degrade and to 
 
AMNESTY. 
 
 :J21) 
 
 disenchant all incentive to improve. NevertholesH, sav- ~ 
 in*-- and exceptin<,^ the wisdom of such views as may be 
 dictated by policy, I venture toattirm that those supt;rior 
 social attractions pertaining to the condition of the one, 
 are greatly over estimated in their moral effects, and that 
 our average devotee of fashion is no whit better than his 
 ragged brother in penury and reprobation. In other words, , 
 that the great discrepancy weseek so strenuously to establish 
 and maintain between individuals and classes, are artifi- 
 cial and altogether abnoiinal, and much of the superiority 
 arrogated by the upper set, no better than comforting de- 
 lusions, partaking rather of pride than virtue, and indica 
 ting actually only such extraneous merit as pertains to ap- 
 pearances. Hence it is, too, our sense of superiority as a 
 class should find its most appiopriate expression, not in 
 sympathy, but aversion — not in amnesty, but in strife. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 To become reconciled to this view, it is necessary either 
 to practise a little wholesome humility, or to cultivate a 
 hiirher esteem for our less fortunate fellow-creatures. And 
 here, we may pertinently remark, that there is no position 
 in life, however lowly, in which a person with an ordinary 
 endowment of reason, and a properly appreciative mind, 
 may not look down still lower and feel a profound sense 
 of gratification at his elevation : and, conversely, there is 
 no position, however high, that with our yearning instincts 
 on the wing, will not make our abasement seem compara- 
 tively contemptible. Inasmuch, then, as the standard, not 
 
330 
 
 REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 Apr 
 
 
 
 only of "success," but of morality may be raised to infinity, 
 so any position, or any reputation under heaven, is as in- 
 finitely mean and low as the other is infinitely high and 
 perfect. Thus in all things are we exalted in looking down, 
 and humbled in looking up, and just in proportion to our 
 ability to see high are we enabled to feel low. It follows 
 that the higher our conception of an all perfect character, 
 the greater our consciousness of personal deformity, 
 and the thinner and more insignificant the degrees of 
 merit we see about us. Down on the earth, people who 
 are an inch or two taller than the average, look like giants, 
 but the higher we rise above them the more do these 
 differences blend, till they are seen to harmonize. Then, too, 
 persons who can conceive no standard other than self, or the 
 favored set about them, are utterly unable to feel any sen- 
 timent but the most vain and bigoted towards those be- 
 neath, and their impression^f God himself is as stinted as 
 their appreciation on earth of His image, — no matter if it 
 be seen in the disguise of the most abject degradation. 
 
 Again, while it is commendable in some respects, never- 
 thless there is something faulty in the fact that many pco- 
 {)le not unfrequently bring to bear in their criticism of each 
 other that standard which is their loftiest conception of 
 splendid qualities ; so high, indeed, that it is rather an ideal 
 of moral heroism and the romance of virtue than that disap- 
 pointing sort we see and call " fogy." With this most per- 
 fect model to which, in our conceit, we are ever making 
 love and are jealous of, we compare the homely and scarred 
 visage of others' characters and their every day's hackneyed 
 
 '■^■«^ ii 
 
AMNESTY. 
 
 3:u 
 
 (loinga. Ah, but if their appearance, only stiiined with the 
 sweat and toil of a busy (lay,(li.sgu.sts us, what shall we think 
 of their mistakes, and how shall we express our contempt 
 and reprobation for their faults. This ideal as regards 
 ourselves becomes identified, not so much with our heiiifr 
 as with our self-esteem, and though at first it may have 
 been only the i-emote pattern to which we aspired to mould 
 a living copy — later, old and ugly, it is this image in self we 
 contemplate as self, and behold reflected therein all that 
 is most graceful, juvenile, and lovable. 
 
 In a social estimate, taking the lowest positicmas a stand- 
 point, all above are successes, and as any pitch in the scale 
 to which we may attain, simply raises the standard by 
 which we judge, it follows that the higher stations in life 
 need not raise men appreciably one above another, and that 
 why they seem exalted to some, is because they are below 
 and look up. We boast of our refinement, but if it raised 
 the standard by which we judge to anything approximating 
 wliat is perfect, the result would be that the proudest moral 
 autocrat would not feel in the slightest above the lowest 
 of his subjects — nay, and but little, if indeed any, better 
 than the meanest and most depraved in not his but God's 
 kingdom. - 
 
 This train of thought disi)Oses one to think that taking 
 all the evidence commonly accepted as showing one class 
 of men to be the greatest and best, and another to be 
 the most depraved and w^orst, the social scale will indicjtte 
 opposite spheres of good and bad ; but if we take either 
 of these separately, or both together, though it ma^ not 
 
li'S'2 
 
 RKVKUIES OF AN OLD SMOKKU. 
 
 
 h •>•!<■* 
 
 « s i 
 
 ha ilciiionstrated, I feel fairly justiHe«l iii attinuin<^ that 
 an impartial inquiry into all the circumstances, and a rii,'i(l 
 ))rol>in«,' of all the testimony — not simply that IS, but could 
 BK adduced, — would so far equalize the apparent discn- 
 pancy as to make the two sides balance. 
 
 .-:.■.,■:;,;; ^' ,- ' xxiii. 
 
 The fact is, good and ill in our natures are not anti- 
 podal but merge like the colors of the solar spectrum ; 
 and, as in the case of light, so with human virtue, strip- 
 })ed of its illusions one sha«le predominates, — that 
 is, black ! Again, that notch in the moral scale whioli 
 marks the highest elevation, is only separated by an in- 
 finitesimal space from that indistinguishable degree he- 
 low which crowns the summit of highest corruption ; and 
 though that may not be the depth of lowest depravity, it 
 is, none the less, the point of highest culpability. 
 
 In this connection, we may glance at what may be term 
 ed the subtle affi^nity of (jpifosites. Much of our disposi- 
 tion to glorify superiority in men comes of our regardini,' 
 "talent" as a virtue, and the fortunate possessor, in our pre- 
 disposition to idolize, is exalted into such an object ot 
 a<loration as can be conceived only from an ideal stand- 
 point. 
 
 In elaboration of this idea, Ave may note, it is not 
 always true that a man may be correctly known by his 
 works, for these may convey a sentiment the very oppo- 
 site of his real character, and be either conceived in ap- 
 po.sition to, or evolved in the n)ysterious providence of, an 
 
 k'l: r 
 
AM NEST V. 
 
 XV,\ 
 
 opposln*^' spirit. In the conflict of opinion concerning 
 men of note, vvc may call attention to Uk; fact that they 
 have two characters: the (me, private an«l n^al ; tlu' other, 
 public and ideal. The relative merits and demerits of 
 Itoth are disputed and maintained; but, as is ^fenerally 
 the case, the better view naturally prevails, — then, wliilo 
 the former dies, tlie latter, which is furthest from the 
 tell-tale Hesh, lives, and is the one by whi(;h posteiity 
 professes accpiaintance and passes jud<^aiient. 
 
 The exception taken here is, that this impression is not 
 obtained from personal intimacy and contact with tn(! 
 man, but, what is a very diff'cicnt thinfr, familiarity with 
 his works. These, in the case of literary m<3n, and the 
 majority of others, it requires no argument to show may 
 color our spectacles with ideal fancies ; and, in the pros- 
 ])ect thus presented of a brighter conception of livin;,', 
 we are only too pleased to ignore or forget the r(*al 
 tableau of a poor miserable mortal Iik<; (jurselves, weighed 
 down with the ignoble burden of ordinary human failings. 
 The fact is, that just inasmuch as the wiitten record 
 of individuals differs from the living, is the former 
 cherished agent of conservatism made the means, not of 
 their preservation, but extinction. And in runnnaging 
 the dark corners and dusty culjby-holes of old-worM 
 literature, we find, with rare exceptions, that however 
 opposed to the impression conveyed by their works, the 
 authors of some of the finest productions in the domain, 
 not simply of letters Init the adjoining field of |jolities, 
 were in their private life what, if we hesitate to call profli- 
 
d34 
 
 UF.VERIKS OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 gate, des«olute, vile, it is only lK.'caii8o we feci they are de«- 
 erving of those choicer epithets which, nienning tlie sam«' 
 thing, have been invented by polite society to be applied in 
 ca.ses where outrage and enormity are palliated by educa- 
 tion and refinement. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 It may seem invidious to refer to th«-,se draw-backs, but 
 the spirits of tlie great men we honor, are become so 
 thoroughly emancipated from the flesh, that the recollec- 
 tion of even their misdeeds seems to restore to them that 
 humanizing influence which commends them to our sym- 
 pathies. — In this respect, then, amid so nmch that is only 
 fancifully God-like, it no longer detracts from our heroes to 
 be assured they were only men. Hence,we feel less delicacy 
 in saying, that many of those whose bright intellects 
 constitute the major part of that brilliant constellation 
 to which I refer, and who have described so cleverly and 
 pathetically the wiles and vicissitudes of man and society, 
 were themselves the sport of the very appetites and pro- 
 pensities they held up, with so much zeal, wisdom, and 
 eloquence, to public reprobation. 
 
 It would seem, in the case of some, their very efforts con- 
 spiring with the antagonism they sought to overthrow, 
 they fell all the easier victims to those temptations and ins 
 which their vivid imaginations had exaggerated and in- 
 tensified. With others, however, it is harder to excuse 
 the fact that, inconsistent as it may seem with the 
 fine and salutary precepts evolved in their literary and 
 Public career, in their private life and personal habits 
 
AMNKSTY. 
 
 t^urj 
 
 they were a Hvinj,' lie to tlic sincerity of their profes- 
 sions ami covertly evinced the most uhoiiiinahle disrej^mnl 
 for the simplest dictates of morahty and even human- 
 ity. Tlie evil one within tliem, it is true, may liave whis- 
 pered sublime thin<,% hut it was only to embellish those 
 hazy lines of demarcation thatjlistinj^niish the kingdom of 
 Satan, from the Dominion of the Immaculate. And then, 
 indeed, their most virtuous efforts may be likene<l to tlie 
 remorse of tlie drunkard entoning with greatest patlios 
 the lessons of sobriety; — th'' veriest rogue haunted with 
 fairest image of honesty; — and, the hypocrite enchanted 
 with the most angelic vision of i)iety ! 
 
 Thus, too, in a greater degree than is commonly sup- 
 posed or allowed, must these men have not only 
 needed, but absolutely possessed, all the wickeder prompt- 
 ings of the devil himself to have enabled them so 
 coiTCctly and gra])hically to interpret the hieroglyphical 
 language of the human heart, and, not only to divine 
 in others but to exemplify in themselves those gor- 
 geous contrasts of opposite qualities. With men of 
 letters, they have managed to maintain the empire which 
 mere fancy has reared in our hearts ; having won the title 
 liy which we esteem them, by giving to the world a cr<'a- 
 tion of matchless heroes and splendid principles, in whose 
 sublime characters and resistless precepts we have em- 
 balmed the memoirs of the authors. For example, we do 
 not think of Dean Swift, as the remorseless iconoclast 
 desolating the beatiful world of woman's love, but as the 
 iiero of those inimitable "Travels," whose charming fancies 
 first explored the wondrous land of Lilliputia. — 
 
:\'M\ 
 
 UKVKIUKS OK AN oM) SMOKKU. 
 
 il 
 „ '( 
 
 11 
 
 1 
 
 
 ■jj 
 
 hi -^ 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 \Vc il«> not tliink of Hyroii, as the iuliuiiian iiioiisU!!' 
 whoHc crime 1ms <^iv('n rise to tho most atrocious liUel on 
 record, but as the Ijoyisli "Juan," the maturor " Manfrrd," 
 and still riper pntiiot. -We do not tldnk of Ai)('lard,as 
 tlic l>otray«'r of a sacred trust, but as tlie pious nuirtyr, — 
 consumed in a flame from whose embers spran<^ the darling; 
 of H^iloisa. — Finally, we do not think of Kd<,'ar Allan Poe, 
 as the dru!iken maniac dis<^raein<,' the little circle of his 
 social orbit, but as the muse whose sweet minstrelsy in- 
 spired •' The Raven ! " 
 
 In the case, however, of the compeers of a goodly num- 
 ber of these men in the kindred line of politics, the se- 
 (piel peculiarly incident to the latter sphere, tells a differ- 
 ent tale ; also, further illustrating^ the two character [)he- 
 nomenon before mentioned. The political views of Rienzi 
 were of the most exalted description, and not only those 
 of an astute statesman but such as became, what he reallv 
 appeared to be, a patriot and true lover of his country. 
 He was withal a poet as well as a politician, and not only 
 a scholar but a gen'ais ; and, on the strength of these cpiali- 
 fieations,mounted from the lowest to the highest stations in 
 a country where liis predecessors were Cjesar, and, Augus- 
 tus. His latter career, however, as dictator developed a 
 new character so much at variance with the sentimental 
 one professed while a suppliant for public patronage and 
 honors, that, with the freedom of unlimited power, he be- 
 came a tyrant ; unmasking, ere long, and displaying in an 
 intolerable degree, every trait most despicable in man. 
 Thenceforward, from being, as he had been for a consider- 
 
AMNESTY. 
 
 xn 
 
 Ma tiiiio, tlu) bcnofuctor ainl idol of a ;;rati'ful ami a«lor- 
 in^' pt'oplo, on tin; true and not tho a-ssuni^d and vijslon- 
 aiy character of i\\u man Ijecomin;^' known, he wa.s <lo- 
 graded and .stoned to death by an outraged and indi«r. 
 nant populace. This case is cited at random ami is only 
 one of the many we read ahout that go to sustain the 
 view herein taken. 
 
 These examples, we may add, tinally, are not conlined 
 to profane ranks ; nay, we lind them in the a<lorahle com- 
 l)any of the divinely inspir«Ml. W(! luivo 8u])stantial cvi- 
 ilences going far to .show that iMahomet was tlui greate.it 
 preacher and the most powerful leader of evangelical ro- 
 furm the world has ever seen. — By his personal ell'orts 
 he founded or least c<)mj)iled a cree<l,and converted to his 
 views a goodly share of the population of the globe. But 
 however effectually he may have played the part of 
 prophet and preceptor, as frieml and as man, in his social 
 relations (if we may credit the most unbia.ss(Ml of (jur au- 
 thorities), he was a brute who.se carnal instincts made him 
 a mammoth animal, whose relaxation from the rigois of 
 penitential office, was spent wallowing in the mire and 
 tilth of unbounded lust. 
 
 I >■ 
 
 XXV. 
 
 As T have said, I do not seek these cases and (piote 
 them invidiously ; — in favoring the uncouth but robust 
 claims of the ma.sses it must be to some extent in dis- 
 paragement of that more refined mania, who.se delirium 
 is hero-worship. If I decline, then, to shrink from such 
 Y 
 
338 
 
 REVKIUKS OF AN OLD SMOKKll. 
 
 J* 
 
 IS:' 
 
 ^.'#** 
 
 • M i s; !i 
 [1 . uijs., 
 
 ni 
 
 1 J'*, 
 
 i^ 
 
 an 'incfoiiial and unpopular task, it is because I I'oel 
 tlie tendency in tlie case of merit, as in tliat of property, 
 is, and always has been, outrageously in favor of gigan- 
 tic, isolated monopoly ; the effect of which is not only 
 to aggrandize the minority, but to canonize the few at 
 the expense of the man}'. Exalting to absurd heights 
 spots here and there, and depressing in like ratio the 
 general surface of mankind, is not a fault of modern birth ; 
 it obtained in ancient times, and we have only to look 
 back a few thousand years, to behold the hierarchy of 
 those days degrading humankind, and elevating tutelar 
 deities. It was the glorification of individuals that cul- 
 minated in the " Heroic Age " of Grecian fable ! And 
 since then, and up to this day, the system and practice 
 of beatifying and sublimating men, whose business and 
 abilities have made them simply eligible subjects, is illus- 
 trated, and will be perpetuated, in the questionable teach- 
 ing of a Theology which not only endows certain persons 
 with the attributes of an all-mighty superiority, but sets 
 rival bodies and jealous people in conflict as the proxies 
 of contending gods. In<leed, it is commonly inculcated, 
 that the spirit of the supernatural incarnate may be sup- 
 posed from time to time to spring out of the very bone of 
 contention — to father and champion hostile sects whose 
 chief virtue is in their mutual hatred of each other's crimes 
 and their unbounded faith in the spiritual leadership of a 
 being apart from the Omnipotent. . ^ 
 
 Nay, the phase of hero-worship obtaining to day, is 
 only another form of the old pagan fallacy, to dispel which, 
 
AMNESTY. 
 
 339 
 
 wliilc tletiactin^^ tVom the preposterous pivtensioiis of tho 
 few, would raise tho standard of the many ! It would dis- 
 perse the oligarchy of merit, but distribute its sinecures 
 amongst the people ! Temporal kings and peers and sun- 
 dry lords would go by the board — all the lofty pinnacles 
 reared in false glory would topple and fall like the temples 
 of Isis and Serapis ! — but, by the sweeping down of those 
 star-crested domes, toilsome r •••^•vities would be levelled, — 
 great valleys and yawnirif chn ms would be filled — and, 
 without prostrating the higii isoandard of pu])lic virtue, 
 we should see, not the exaltation of the few and the cor- 
 responding degradation of the many, but a gn^at universal 
 upheaval of the common sea-level of mankind. 
 
 l: 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 • Regarding those whose portion in this world is priva- 
 tion and misery combined, and whose prostration hides 
 them from the view of most people, I would reiterate 
 what I said in another place, to wit : that in the two 
 classes popularly known as high and low, the latter ex- 
 hibits the most marked traits of character. — But how, it 
 may be urged, can there be shown any greater character- 
 istics than those exemplified in the lives of our " great 
 men ? " Well, theirs is the greatness of heads and pro- 
 portionately less a measure of simple charactei'. It is 
 easy, as in the case of Peabody, to be not simply benevolent 
 but munificent, and that to a degree and in a manner that 
 shall make all the world resound in praise ; besides, he 
 evinced what is rare with men generally, that is, as much 
 

 340 
 
 REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 1 I 
 
 ^\ 
 
 .1'. 
 
 ( < 
 
 I ft 
 
 ability in the disposition of his wealth as he did in its 
 acquisition. But you say, show me a case to compare 
 with this one. — Talk of the greatness of character in the 
 haunts and amongst the filth and vermin and depravity 
 of the poor, it is not only scandalous to mention such a 
 thing, but an aspersion on society and civilization and 
 Christianity ! 
 
 Yes it is, I will admit, and for that reason it makes it 
 all the harder to do the miserable set justice ; more 
 especially, without reflecting somewhat on the upper 
 classes and even detracting a little from their superiority. 
 But I have been a little amongst them, and got hold of a 
 few signs, by which I have been able to penetrate- the 
 outer vestibule of dirt and degradation. Yes, I have seen a 
 little what was going on where the world neither pi<-les 
 nor applauds ; and from what I have observed and know, I 
 confess it seems to me these people have, or seem to have, 
 certain peculiarities characteristic of the higher race of men. 
 There is not, as they appear to me, that ferocity, which the 
 heroism of our police who capture them, would incline us 
 to think; nay, nor that ravenous craving for raw and bloody 
 meat, which is supposed to be inseparable to a condition ul 
 relapsed barbarity and brutality. They do not, T have noti- 
 ced, seem to be wanting in stomachs like our ow t, and with 
 appetites that bear a striking resemblance to ours ; in- 
 deed, they sniff the air of better living and seem to relish 
 it, as if they had an instinctive conception of better things. 
 I have seen atoms among them (youngstej's I mean), even 
 in some of the more frequented streets of New York and 
 
AMNESTV. 
 
 341 
 
 tidrulon,— particularly on dark and stormy nhr]\t>^, vvlien 
 they could conic out like rabbits and have what we would 
 call a holiday.— Well, I've seen these, actually, peering 
 through shop windows and gazing with wild,famished eyes, 
 chattering teeth and watering mouths^ in upon a luscious 
 wealth of aggravating pies and cakes and frosted dough- 
 nuts! Aye, and the want of two or three pennies, which 
 looked to them like great blood-red moons, and in a sphere 
 quite as remote and unattainable, walled them out as effec- 
 tually as are we from the good things of that other planet. 
 Meanwhile the "Dinner" at Delmonico's, and the " Ban- 
 ([uet " at the Lord Mayor's, proceed, and are partaken of 
 as mere thankless items, intended only to satisfy the higher 
 toned craving for a change of menu, or something, any- 
 thing, to mitigate the intolerable nwnotony of dining at 
 home. 
 
 But w^hat have you seen of the older ones, you may 
 ask, those who have run the full length of crime and de- 
 bauchery; if you can show me one or two that are worthy 
 then there is hope. Well, I have seen amongst the cast- 
 aways of society, women wdiose degradation would shame 
 brutes, but who displayed a heroism and devotion that 
 despite all the disfigurement of vice, while it honored and 
 sustained some of my best conceptions of true womanhood* 
 threw even the charm of sanctity over the ruin of a lost 
 character ! I have seen, too, the debased scion of broken 
 royalty among them, with raiment like the " tattered ban- 
 ner of a lost cause," and with the witliering pinch of hun- 
 ger stamped all over him, relax his grip on a treasure 
 
 } 
 
n42 
 
 nEVKlUES OF AN OLD SMOKkR. 
 
 mole precious to him than the wealth of a Crcesus or a 
 Peabody, — his last penny — and bartering this, his only 
 claim to kingdom, for a crust, give that away. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 i''l 
 
 111 
 
 if ' 
 
 
 < Jit. 1 
 
 WW'"'**'', ' 
 
 Heroism like the above may not be known, — I know it 
 is not honored and numbered with the " Legion " — never- 
 theless it deserves all the homage, and more, that we in- 
 voluntarily yield to the glorious remnant of the gallant 
 " 8ix Hundred." I bow to a banquet like that; — aye, it 
 is the crumbs that fall from such a feast that exalt the 
 spirit and fatten the soul ! And how do examples like 
 these compare with the benevolence of our Millionaires 
 or the munificence of our Billionaires ^ They do not shine 
 on the page of history; — they are not commemorated 
 amongst the treasured mementos of our national archives; 
 — they are not recorded in the " annals of our times," nor 
 do we find the name and date blazoned on the granite walls 
 of palatial "charities;" — nevertheless, they do not escape 
 that restless Vigilance that watches the " fall of the spar- 
 row," and caters to the wants of the tiniest insect. 
 
 Now that we come to think of it, how the blank, inhos- 
 pitable expanse of sand, — the Sahara of scurfdom, — does 
 change and become peopled with forms and faces whose 
 uncouth outlines and grim lineaments seem worthy, even 
 though they do not invite, a second glance. And approach- 
 ing a little nearer the arid waste we see — can it be possible ? 
 yes, it is no deceptive mirage for those are indeed grass- 
 spots, — clover-fields, — flower-beds, — fresh and blooming as 
 
AMNKSTV 
 
 l{ y.\ 
 
 any tluit embeHisli i]u) rielicst of our own fertile IjukIm- 
 capt'S ! They arc small, veiy .small; in<lee(l, to (li.s(;ov(;r 
 them we must be looking- especially for them, mihI not 
 only that, but with eyes that see out of the he-art. 'JMien, 
 through the dank and fetid atmoHpljci<! that liangs over 
 them like a malarious mist, are revealed tlios(3 r(Ml(!(!miiiL' 
 tokens of that ubicpiitous humanity that shines out of tlie 
 clouds — crops up from the soil — and blossoms in the fis- 
 sures of the rock ! — And hei-e, amon;;st the most des[)ieabl(! 
 of heathendom, it is presented to our own mon; cultured 
 and delicate sensibilities, in its poveity oficfinement, it is 
 true, but with all its wealth of untutoied ameniti<?s sym- 
 bolized in the typical sweetness (A blooming, fragrant 
 Howei*s. 
 
 Many people there are who have never seen these par- 
 ticular garden-spots and discredit their existence. 'I'bey 
 are difficult and disagreeable, jieihaps, to find — they are 
 hidden awav behin<l the ble-ak walls that meet tlie <;ye uh 
 we hurry along the street ; but why should tin; Klys<*e of 
 our own fancies monopolize all our thoughts 'i W'ego in- 
 inside, sometimes ; it is true, we do nf>t always liurry by, 
 but then it is only to wonder at destitution and to cuid' 
 chise distress. Why do we not visit tliem now and then, 
 — a^k to see their little garden-spot and find out where 
 it is ? thev have one somewhere in their nature, and what 
 a chord you touch when you have discovered the Kona or 
 the Lily in their hearts '.—It may be- all tliey have that is 
 pure and undefiled, and the tear-drop on its petals s|;arkles 
 like the diamond whose lustre may not be dinmied. It is 
 
344 
 
 REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 a decoration bestowed for soino good deed whicli in this 
 great battle of life none is so mean as never to have per- 
 formed; and though the other (|naHties mn,y be all adverse, 
 and the wearer maimed and mutilated, still this alone n>ay 
 claim recognition — claim recognition ! aye, it may claim 
 Camaraderie with a marshal of the Empire ! 
 
 i^^ 
 
 . 
 
 i{t^ 
 
 * 
 
 Kk*i . 
 
 
 
 
 \ • 
 
 'i XXVITI. 
 
 I am reminded in this connection of an incident that 
 came under my observation, during one of the many de- 
 lightful excursions it has been my good fortune to have 
 made to points of interest in England. It was to the home 
 of the Guelphs, — that grand old castle of Windsor. On 
 this occasion I found myself in a crowd not far from 
 the great gates leading out on the " Long Walk." The 
 Queen, who had been out for a drive was momentarily ex- 
 pected to return that way, and T was waiting to have a 
 good look at her ; a privilege which up to that time I had 
 not had the good fortune to obtain. I had not long to 
 wait before there came in view a very plain equipage, which 
 I was informed was the royal carriage, and in which was 
 seated Her Majesty, also, if I remember rightly, the Prin- 
 cess Beatrice. 
 
 As they were going on past, for some reason or other 
 there was a slight delay near the entrance ; in that in- 
 stant I was horrified to i)(;rceive a dirty ragged little urchin, 
 a girl it seemed, and a mere child, but with its hands full of 
 flowers, break awav from the crowd on our side and run, 
 all impulsively, right up to where the Queen was. I say 
 
AMNESTV. 
 
 .'U.*, 
 
 I was horrifiecl, because I looked upon the matter at first 
 as a terrible breach of decorum,— involving confiscation 
 of estates and exile or " The Tower," and it made me nei-^ 
 vous. The little wretch, with a half-frightened, half- 
 gladsome look of baby pri<le and timidity, put up both its 
 chubby, brown hands full of violets, and with an appeal 
 on its rosy, English face that I shall never forget, ofiered 
 this simple and touching tribute to one whose high sta- 
 tion naturally conveys the impression of her being the 
 most austere, if not the proudest dame in England. 
 
 My heart stood still, and it seemed to me as if every 
 breath in that motley group was suspended. The "Empress 
 of India," who took in the situation at a glance, lowered her 
 stately head just the slightest ; but the smile that lighted 
 up her benign features was not the Queen's — it was the 
 regal urbanity of a great-hearted English matron, and in 
 a low voice which I thought touchingly soft and sweet, 
 and which I may only have imagined was just a little 
 sad, she said, " Thank you, my child ! " i felt a choking 
 sensation in my throat — my eyes grew moist and dim — I 
 could have blubbered like a school-boy. Those were 
 flowei's from the little garden-spot of the poor, the des- 
 pised, the outcast; — and this was the child of democracy, 
 unlocking with those tiny hands the rusty portals that 
 lead to the most invulnerable, if not the most formidable, 
 stronghold of' monarchy in Christendom. 
 
 
 --f T - 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Those whose misfortunes we take as an evidence of 
 moral perversity and deservelessness, those we give over 
 
M(j 
 
 UKVKRIES OF AN OhTt SMOKER. 
 
 Mi ,-, '( 
 
 
 h 
 
 I " ' * ita ^ l" I I 
 
 ■ f 1 
 
 and feel are lont, must their lives have Ix^eii all a blank 
 desert? Take the worst of them, those whom Society 
 ignores and all soher folk repudiate, and everybody feels 
 a distant dread about — liouseless wanderers whose home- 
 less abodes fringe the outskirts of civilization — all sand 
 and sky, — may there be no hope for them sometime '. 
 Shall it always be burning dust, in this world and the 
 next? No tree, no shrub, no leaf? Our "creeds' 
 say they are irredeemaljly lost ; or at best the con- 
 ditions on which they would take them in, are such 
 that it is simply impossible for these pooi- wretches 
 either to understand or conform; besides they have no 
 sufficient inducements by way of appearances, even it* 
 they had the dissimulation necessary, to make tluni 
 take up with a hollow pietence. But if they do not con- 
 form, must they be lost for ever ? The brutality of Bar- 
 tholomew says YES ! But the heart of Gethsemane sa} s 
 NO ! ! Then leaving out the harsher interpretation of a 
 monkish creed, let us ask, in the name of the only good 
 Samaritan through whom we claim exem[)tion, is it possi- 
 ble tiiese people may not be endowed with some great 
 redeeming virtue. I claim they arc — disguised, perverted 
 as it may seem. 
 
 • It is said that one of Murillo's finest paintings lay vir- 
 tually unknown and abandoned for years, and, changinu 
 hands many times, was bartered and sold for paltry sums : 
 when one day, the effort of some kindly hand, or it may 
 have been a sorry purchaser, to restore a battered old 
 bacchanalian scene, led to the discovery of the concealed 
 
AMN1..STV. 
 
 ni? 
 
 trea-surc ; and innlnncath tlic n\itvr <*<»atiiiL' wliiclj was 
 then caivfully n'lnovcd, tl»er(; stood rovoaltMl to wonder- 
 ing generations the priceless chef d'o-uvre of one of the 
 greatest masters the World of Art has ever known. 
 
 We cannot all expect tolind gi^nis like this, hidden away 
 in every old picture ; hut I claim each one of all of us has 
 stowed away in the hnnher-rooni of his heart, a treasure 
 in some good (puility even more precious, whieii, as the 
 heir-loom of the poorest and meanest, only setaus worth- 
 less hecausc it is not exhibited, and cannot be exchange(l, 
 nor pawned, nor negotiated; but while it may leave its pos- 
 sessor shabby, famishing, and in diibt, nevertheless, \ be 
 lieve, in hisgreatest need, the shrine shall disgorge, — even 
 as the earth, which yieMs in its minciral wealth of " tn-a- 
 sure trove," the most abundant compensation for its 
 •greatest seeming baj'reiiness. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Taking the apparent caprices of natui-e and the altered 
 conditions of iife into account, [ fail to see and to appre- 
 ciate the vast difference betwc^en the best and the worst 
 of us; so far, at least, as txj make it all unction for the 
 one, and to preclude all hope for the other. And it cer- 
 tainly does seem very hard to discovei- the a[)proi)riat(! 
 parallel in the portion alloted to each, of everlasting 
 felicity and perpetual hell-fire. I w()uld like to think 
 otherwise ; 1 want the "flaming sword" h(dd aloft over my 
 head, to appear as appalling as possible, as it might have 
 a stronger tendency to deter me from evil ; but J am so 
 
 
m 
 
 It^c 
 
 \i:m 
 
 ^ 
 
 UH 
 
 RfcVEftTftR Ofr AN OtP SMotCEh. 
 
 bbatinato or opaquo as not to be able to (Hstin^'iitsli any 
 liit^licr virtiio in " brimstone," tlian what common sense 
 and lunnanity incline me to feel. Nay, 1 rejmdiate utteily 
 that theory of Hava^r coercion, which in the form of an 
 appalling ptiantom, and obtruding itself on the weakest 
 and most pu.'<illanimons(pialities in man, makes him '^tait 
 aghast at that typical " boo-man " which our rural talent 
 sets up in the field to sen o the crows away. 
 
 Moreover, it seems to me the question of the duration 
 of punishment in another world is of such secondary im- 
 portance, if indeed, of any at all, that it may be regarded 
 by the humbler classe.", as simply one of the many exanii)lc8 
 of th<' want of native sense in our learned men; those I 
 mean who have spent their lives in grafting on their minds 
 exotic ideas, and in transcribing volumes of speculation, 
 discussion and dispute on the subject. And, furthermore? 
 consi<lering all the discrepancies incident to life and under- 
 standing, with the litth' time allotted us to make our 
 peace, is it not absurd we should go on arguing over the 
 length of eternity, — whether it be that of joy or pain, — 
 and ne\ er cease propounding doctrines, wherein our most 
 erudite and venerable pupils, in their efforts to ctjmprehend 
 and eke out comfort, seem but infants " nmling and puk- 
 ing " in the great Master's arms ! 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 As we have already intimated, the prospective reign 
 of Amnesty, at h»ast so far as this life is concerned, is 
 met with such an insuperable obstuck inhuman nature, 
 
AMNESTY. 
 
 ;ui) 
 
 m to make tho very hazy ((uestion of its cstablishiiiont 
 on earUi, a iiiaUt>r of hiimo attainment— Iwisod mion 
 that slo Y theory of progression vvhicli, regards man as 
 in a state of gradual improvement. — Nor does the pros- 
 pect seem to brighten with tho assumption that, com- 
 mencing Avith the jegenoration of the monkey, tlio liuman 
 animal had attained, nearly two thousaml years ago, the 
 sublime eminence of that perfect specimen, whose precocity 
 won him the imperishable honor of crucitixion. 
 
 But, leaving out the ultimate destiny of the race in its 
 temporal pihjjrimage to the goal, I deny the right of any 
 man or creed to say, that in the great or(h;al of death 
 and dissolution the most dilat' >ry may not overleap, in 
 the untrammelled spirit, the most formidalde barriers 
 of either theology or the tlesh, — and, catching up with 
 the most forward, take his place hereafter in th>; front 
 rank of unctuous progress. Here w<^' might refer t) 
 advantage to what we have already said about the sub- 
 tle affinity of opposites, and, pointing to the tableau of 
 the "crown of th')rns," institute a comparison with less 
 exalted suffering, showing d closer connection b«'tween 
 the best and the worst than is exliibited socially. But 
 suffice it in this instance to call attention to the fact of 
 three crosses, and not simply one ; and, twining the ever- 
 living vine about them, let it indicate not a mere acci- 
 dental associiition, but a kindred tie, uniting in nmtual 
 hope the thief and the Christ- the most corrupt and the 
 most perfect of men. 
 
 The broad ground which 1 have taken herein of uni- 
 versal merit and forgiveness is difficult to xnaintain, com- 
 
 I 
 
 :?r' 
 
3.')() 
 
 UKVKUIKS OK AN OLD S.MOKHIl. 
 
 r i!ijif,i . . . 
 
 » 
 
 pit 
 
 if»|-fSf I "■*'"• 
 
 •lb., i .J 
 
 
 in^ up as it dooH oii the trial of very lianl aiul kii(»tty 
 cnsos, wherein sympathy, wo are a(hnonisliecl, ho far from 
 l•^l^m^^must not even influence the verdict; und t]i*)iJi;h the 
 vievv.s which favor the boon of a^eneral amnesty, coiueiu di- 
 rect conHiitt witli those ;,^n*at foiinularies known as Creeds, 
 yet it dot s not so nuich oppose them, after all, as that 
 they sim])ly ditfer with the prevailing hallucination which 
 holds them divinely indispensable. 
 
 We mayol)serve that while Creeds, as formulated systems, 
 are the work of heads, they had their (>ri;[;iii in the* com- 
 uiiseration of hearts — conceive<l in pity, they are all tcjo 
 often nmintained in cruelty, an<l just inasmuch as they 
 favor strife, they oppose amnesty, and defeat the object of 
 their institution. 1 would not, however, wantonly dis- 
 parage these great succoring agencies ; considering, too, 
 they may be available and even satisfying to those minds 
 wherein understanding is not a prerecjuisite to faith. 
 Moreover, there are many peophi who have been nur- 
 tured in creed ; they have grown u[) in it, and may 
 not Ije unsuccessful in the extraordinary mental feat of 
 re^ardincT the Church as a second mother — its wond> as 
 their tond), and the second ])irth as the devoutly prayed 
 for resurrection. It may be a beautiful illusion, which I 
 have no wish in their case to dispel ; but, aside from the 
 question of fact or fancy as concerns them, I am now 
 seeking what remedy there may be for a class who, for 
 whatever cause, creeds abandon ; and in these cases where 
 the .systems of Heads may not avail, I vvT)uId appeal to the 
 primitive and innate religion of Hearts. 
 
AMNKSTY. 
 
 :{.') 1 
 
 XXXIT 
 T iimko no vain 1»oast of lihenility, l»ocau.so T tl 
 
 rem 
 
 I 
 
 L^ion 
 
 DISC 
 
 >en»j^ 
 
 l)Ut 
 
 my 
 •t of 
 'ive 
 ^ of 
 
 () 
 
 f 
 
 any 
 I 
 
 fanaticisni ; ind»MMl, lilMMality is very apt to 1m' to relij,' 
 what license is to law; the one not unfrctnu'ntly «lr^rt 
 ratin*; into contenipt, the other into wluit is even w< 
 iiuliHerence. I have always frit <liil»ious about h 
 liberal, and trieil hard to he as hi«,'oted as possible 
 there is nothing I have failed so completely in as in 
 ertbrts to believe that Paradise is a little space — a sor 
 cosmopolitan reli([uary, where it is intended to pres« 
 a few, only, of the finest specimens of the extinct rac»; 
 man. Then the substance of all these ramblinir ideas 
 mine as bearing on this point is, tliat if'(.'hristdied for 
 individual or chiss it was for that one in whose nature 
 have ])een searchini' and probinu: for redeemin<r, healtl 
 ful, life-saving veins. 
 
 There is no (hjubt in my mitid, too, that tlie utility 
 the crucifixion is too exclusive and " liigh-toned," 
 altogether erroneously appropriated. I don't know wl 
 the sensation would be like, but it must be very pecu- 
 liar to feel, as some devotees do, that there is but one 
 narrow path to Heaven — that they are on that i)ath. — Am 
 not quite sure, it would seem especially objectionable, to 
 feel there was but one system that could save, and that was 
 mine ; and while I understood and could comply with all 
 its re<juirements, if it would make my faith any stronger 
 to })elieve all the others would perish, I could even boar 
 that, and feel my own triumph the more njarvellous and 
 gratifying. 
 
 of 
 md 
 lat 
 
 

 ■■ iHititfcJM**' I 
 
 352 
 
 REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 There are a great many who soeru to feel this way, and 
 yet a larger portion profess one thing and believe the very 
 opposite. It is not always dissimulation, however; society 
 and custom regulate these matters as they do the hiw of 
 weights and measures, or the taking of a wife or an oath. 
 Indeed, conformity is not simply optional, but in most 
 cases necessary ; and, generally s})eaking, people are just in- 
 different or thoughtless enough to comply without object- 
 ing. Some other worthy minds there are, who, dazed and 
 confounded in the ap|)nrent need of believeing something, 
 are sore beset by a puzzling diversity of opinions ; indeed, 
 in their honest perplexity, they may bring upon them the 
 opprobrious epithets of "atheist" and "unbeliever;" and 
 yet, are these same people scandalized by that uncon- 
 scionable set, who, donning the habiliments of pious as- 
 surance, invade the sanctuary with a nonchalance that 
 would shame as sceptical the harassed mind of the meek- 
 est of the apostles. 
 
 It is not quite a paradox to affirm that, with peo- 
 ple who do not, or are not able to, think for themselves, 
 the strongest argument in favor of holding a cei'- 
 tain conclusion is the great diversity of opinion con- 
 cerning its correctness ; and, as in the case of the trial 
 of a criminal, they give the thing impeached the bene- 
 fit of the doubt. Again, giving faith a property quali- 
 cation, it is made hereditary ; and, as in the case of the 
 the Chinese women, who are said to stint the growth of 
 their feet by keeping them in the wooden shoes of chil- 
 dren, so is the bumptious fledgling our Christian school 
 
AMNESTY. 
 
 35S 
 
 nurtured in the evangelical groove of the parent ; and he 
 follows it with about as much thought and consideration 
 as is given to a road that offers a convenient turnpike in 
 the general direction one desires to travel. While this is 
 a natural tendency, it is suggestive of a query: — Did 
 anybody, liow^ever severe regarding other people's " p«;r- 
 suasion," ever conscientiously feel that his own dear 
 friends and relatives who differed with him in faith 
 or even without profession, would not be saved ? Our 
 very instincts revolt against the idea of kindred ex- 
 clusion. Show me the son who, though a Protestant, feels 
 his own kind mother, because she is a Catholic, will be 
 damned ; and though I should wonder prodigiously at the 
 inhuman monster, yet would he be only the very com- 
 monest type of the class of people who stand up and 
 solemnly affirm to believe what they profess. But you 
 tell me no such a man could be found, or excuse the case 
 on the groui I of partiality; then, I have only to say 
 that the exception and not the rule is the ground of my 
 hope herein ; for filial reverence is a chief ingredient to 
 faith in God, and the simple reciprocation of natural love 
 is one of the special attributes of an all-wise benevolence 
 looking towards universal Anmesty. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 We heap opprobrium, not upon our fathers, but our 
 forefathers, for their bigotry; but, in a mild, pusillani- 
 ous sort of way, we are more bigotted, in many respects, 
 than they were. In this age of enterprise and reform, for 
 
$54 
 
 REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 i 
 
 H 
 
 1 .1 
 
 f » 
 
 A I 
 
 \1 
 
 ■< 
 
 1 
 
 i 
 
 instance, it is taken for gi'anted that everything opposed 
 to Indolence is Industry, and what can there be more 
 praiseworthy than industry ? So, too, everything opposed 
 to " Popery " is counted " Protestantism," and what a 
 glorious triunij)h is Protestantism ! Well, both these as- 
 sumptions may be, and are to a great extent, fallacious. 
 I do not appi'ove of Popery altogether, but then I must 
 demur to Protestantism beiui; reijarded as Relijiion. — I do 
 not ap})rove of indolence altogether, but then I beg to 
 say, I think it a stiong argument in its favor, when we 
 look about us and see the great number there are indus- 
 triousl^'^ serving the devil ! 
 
 Our forefathers revolted ajjainst the ministers of Rome 
 and, afterwards, against the Church itself. Without 
 (juestioiiing here the righteousness of their conduct, it is a 
 pertinent query, do we inherit their pious zeal, and are 
 we right in ap|)ropriating, as we do, indiscriminately the 
 virtues of their martyrdom ? It is true we do inherit 
 their prejudices — ah, yes, we have Celtic blood enough for 
 that — and these are fostered and applied as leeches by the 
 moral physician of our spiritual health, whose hobby it is 
 to feel that eveiybody's blood is poisoned ; so now we 
 swarm with leeches as Egypt once swarmed with locusts. 
 
 Why may not our leaders in the good work of moral 
 reform do more in the privacy of individual intercourse, 
 and not wait for the accumulation of huge congregations. 
 Now we hear their voices only in the solemn isolation of 
 sacred places, — in a dismal drone which, although it is 
 wanting in the healthful vim of a more spontaneous 
 eloquence, does, it is true, warn us like the fog-horn or 
 
 r 
 
 . « ■ 
 
 t 
 
T 
 
 AMNESTY. 
 
 355 
 
 ontaneous 
 
 the bell that moans and ding-dongs over the sunken 
 ledge. That is all well enough in its way, but the voice 
 that would oppose evil must enter the ai'ena where evil is 
 advocated, and tlien, not unfre{pient]y would it find itself 
 opposed to itself 
 
 Give us the dash, the energy, the courage, that led the 
 invincible squadrons of French Cuirassiers at Aboukir, 
 or the English Guards at Waterloo — not to connuand 
 battalions, not to war against each other, but to go 
 into the midst of the carnajxe and succor the wounded, 
 and that irrespectiv^e of the side they are found fight- 
 ing on. — All have received a mortal hurt and are bleed- 
 mcr to death — that is enoumi. I do not mean mere 
 stretcher carriers and funeral officials, we have too many 
 of them now ; but the Napoleons and Wellingtons of 
 Amnesty — vancjuishing Enmity and pacifying Strife ! 
 Above all, when time and nature have closed a wound, 
 don't let them tear it open afresh; don't, because broken 
 limbs may not be healing (juite according to rule, go 
 about breaking and setting them over again ! The sublime 
 project of universal anmesty (if it must march as an army), 
 should move on, in all the potent dignity of men who 
 have won peace and are going home,- -and not as a panic- 
 stricken herd, whose cry of Vive VEmpereuv has dwin- 
 dled to the contemptible wail of sauve qui pent. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 If w^e see a man drowning, what is the first impulse, — ■ 
 to go and inquire how he came there ? Yes ; our church* 
 
 I 
 
¥■ 
 
 
 •I ' I s 
 
 I3, ._^*'' 
 
 iM i i 
 
 t > 
 
 .■ii 7 
 
 » 
 
 85C 
 
 REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 men, in effect, tell us that is the proper thing to do; and 
 would leave him till he passed the ordeal of a searching,' 
 catechism, before reaching down and pulling him out. 
 They don't favor sudden "conversions," — not they. We 
 must needs be " born " and suckled over again, and be 
 technically washed of sin, — aye, asin the " Peerage " they 
 are put through the " Bath," to be cleansed of the taint 
 of ignoble birth. And then they haggle over the quantity 
 of water needful to perform the unctuous ablution ; all 
 this, too, when we see people not only " sprinkled," but 
 " immersed," in right good earnest, and treading w^ater in 
 an agon}'- of suspense and drowning, and the emergency is 
 treated with all the ecclesiastical dignity and supine de- 
 liberation of a hackneyed routine. 
 
 In one sense we enjoy all the luxury of perfect security, 
 ■with the ineffable boon of a green old age, growling and 
 expanding its fostering wealth of branch and leaf and 
 blossom all over and about us, — and it makes our declin- 
 ing years seem a delightful shade, a grateful respite from 
 the blazing rays of youthful passion, and from the bustK' 
 and turmoil of the world. — But then, this is an allusion 
 which may be dispelled at any moment, and is seldom real- 
 ized; nevertheless, so is "conversion," (whatever that may 
 actually mean), held up before us as a convenient mirage, 
 and our authorities say, in condemning sudden changes, 
 it must come, to be lasting, :n the gradual progress of 
 events, and be, as it were, the slow growth of that fostei- 
 ing tree. 
 
 The mistake lies in regarding death, as the law of Eng- 
 land does an interregnum,— that is, the King never 
 
AMNESTY. 
 
 r.7 
 
 dies; so also a congregation never dies, but lives always 
 like a corporation, and is y)reaclied to. So, too, tlio gicat 
 world of fashion we see promenading down Broadway 
 or Kegent street, never dies; and 'conversion;' pni- 
 posterous as it may seem, viewed in that light, may go 
 on through an endless scries of progressive stages forever 
 and ever. How different is the exhortation to the ])oor 
 condemned.— And viewed rationally and individuallv 
 as we may all feel, who shall guarantee any one; the mor- 
 row ? Let it be assumed we are to lead the forlorn hope 
 at two o'clock to-day, and march over a mile of o'lacis. 
 covered with abatis and pitfall, and swept by twenty 
 batteries : — Ah, indeed, says the advocate of gradual 
 emancipation, that alters the case mateiially. Yes, the 
 case appears altered very materially, but, mind you, it is 
 only in his view, and not in fact. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 The truth is, we are all shipwrecked mariners. — -To say 
 we have our compass and chart, is but a mild illustra- 
 tion of the means of navii;ating; presupposing, of course, 
 we are in a good ship that is comfortably divided uj) into 
 sections to suit our convenience. This is the disposi- 
 tion our creeds generally make of us, providing we pro- 
 fess to " believe." Well, then we have adverse winds and 
 storms to contend against, and have not unfre([uently, in 
 our greatest emergencies, to fall back on " dead reckon- 
 ing." — we could manage, nevertheless, to get tdong, but 
 the fact is. this favorable aspect of the situation is fal^Q 
 
358 
 
 REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 
 !.!';. 
 
 [iiL 
 
 If 
 
 :!! i 
 
 t I 
 
 'I 
 t 
 
 
 and deceptive ; the impression being conveyed more in the 
 zealous com endation of rival systems than in any actual 
 test of their icspective merits; and, according to modern 
 survey, it is not all certain the ship we are in is seaworthy, 
 with, as we are given to understand, a sure piospect of a 
 pleasant voyage and a safe port. Indeed, the impression 
 when this questionable assurance does not obtain, is that 
 we are all really adrift on a wide ocean — buoyed up in tlie 
 frailest of cockle-shells; and liable as we are to be swamped 
 at any moment, the (juestion of our safety is not one that 
 need alarm a few of the worst of us only, but rather 
 excite the more genuine concern of all for all. 
 
 The strong men among us, we have no difficulty in per- 
 ceiving, are pulling against each other; and the helpless 
 ones, the. women and children, are, — well, I was about to 
 say, huddled together in fear and trembling ; but that 
 would be carrying the simile too far, as they are simply 
 unconscious and basking in the sunshine of their own 
 adorable loveliness. And yet to get nearer the truth still, 
 v/e are floundering in the water and drowning ; there is 
 but one hand can save — He hears our sii]>i'1ication, it 
 it matters not what way, or where, or when it is uttered, 
 it is sufficient if it be only a cry of jmin. — Ah, but if a 
 heathen, or a pagan, or an infidel, be rescued by mistake, 
 who then shall be the champion to stand forth and say, 
 throw him back again ! 
 
 Take any one of our fellow creatures, whose end was 
 most miserable — does henotstand in fraternal contrast with 
 Him whose death was most sublime ? and this notwith- 
 standing the repudiation of all our moral orthodoxy to the 
 
AMNESTY. 
 
 3.39 
 
 contrary. Both equally serve the good puipose of example, 
 and yet one gets all the praise, and the other all the oppro- 
 brium. Yes, the repulsiveness of the one, it is true, may 
 seem to preclude penitence as the absence of all graccfid 
 virtues repels approbation ; he may claim no title in the 
 Autocracy of creed, and stands in gloomy, cheerless continst 
 with its serene and pampered nobility ; and yet, who shall 
 say all may not share alike in that other great Democracy 
 of pain and of pleasure ? Aye, and despite that orthodoxy, 
 which arrogates to itself the authority to say, thou art 
 " polluted," thou art " sanctitied," may we not hope and 
 believe, all are sovereign by the grace of Ood, in their 
 eligibility to mercy ! 
 
 It may be objected that reasoning like this brings us 
 into too close fellowship with these who are de[)raved, and 
 a doubt may be entertained that the pity and countenance 
 of better natures would have a tendency to lend encour- 
 agement ; but the terrors engendered in the minds of some, 
 on that score, are mitigated in reflecting, that the highest 
 standard he or she can conceive, much less embody, is 
 comparative degradation ; and if they judge and condemn 
 by that, how shall they in their turn a[)pear under that 
 scathing criticism whose criterion is the Inunaculate. 
 
 xxxvr. 
 
 In our casual glances into the seemingly opi>osite, but 
 really commingled spheres of success and failure, we have 
 had regard for two grea.t corresponding divisions of society ; 
 but while the socially successful, and those deemed especi- 
 
 i i 
 
300 
 
 REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 
 
 ally fortunate, have been left to take care of theinst'lves. 
 our object has been more especially, to see if tlic^re could 
 be thrown, even the smallest rays of hope towards those 
 unfortunate ones, whose mnnner of livin^f and whose death 
 place them, according to our Creeds and their expositors, 
 outside the pale — and whom the glad, thoughtless, frolic- 
 some world indifferently abandon, — doulitless feeling 
 toward them as tliey do about disease, that is, the further 
 they remove from it the nearer they approximate to 
 health. 
 
 Had my purj^ose in this essay been simply to dignify 
 the world of failure, I need not have been told how much 
 easier my task had been, to have carefully avoided those 
 who would cast disrepute on the cause ; and leaving them 
 underneath their veil of obloquy, have unearthed, in their 
 stead, the memories of that undocorated phalanx, who. 
 falling in an inglorious stage of the conflict, were buried 
 l)y stealth in the smoke and debris of defeat. I say unearth 
 their memories, because in our hasty glance over the past, 
 and into the careers of men, it is a natural impulse to 
 conniience and leave off with success ; and thus, in the 
 history of projects, those who are so fortunate as to cap 
 the sheaf get, it may have been only in the routine order 
 of secjuence, the crown of glory. 
 
 The fact is, Civilization only marks the consunmiation 
 of great achievements, and the progress from inception to 
 completion is not all through a vista of triumphal arches ; 
 but rather through a crucible of fiery ordeals and blighting 
 disappointments ; and the sandy, burning desert, in the 
 rare intervals of oases, are strewn with the bones of un- 
 
AMNESTY. 
 
 im 
 
 wept, iiiilionoied nifiityrH. Thus it is no i«ile envy to 
 
 presuino that oftentimes the truest merit jnrets th»^ least 
 
 applause, an<l to find it w«' need to abandon the grand 
 
 hi<rhways paved with the memorial slahs of hidjL^naphieal 
 
 lore, and «'ropr in the slums and dank and f(etid irloamiui:' 
 
 of penury, starvation and failure. 
 
 As it is, I have not attempteil argunu'nt ; tlu; subject, 
 
 indeed, doesn't admit of that sort f^T measurement and 
 
 demonstration which learned men, who discuss peo])le's 
 
 chances, here and hereafter, affect to apply ; an<l who, 
 
 unravelling fate with the same logical precision they 
 
 would solve an equation, nudtiply and subtract the lost 
 
 and saved with the same e<|uanimity that they for^fe 
 
 syllogisms to annihilate adverse opinion. And here let 
 
 me add, that it seems to me in our pulpit arbitrament 
 
 of right and wrong, and of all things ])ertaiiung to 
 
 our evangelism, they indulge too much in the fuclid of 
 
 religion. I don't object to clicmi-'^tri/, but T do think that 
 
 conversion to spiritual belief is not a simple matter of 
 
 logical serpience ; and I, for one, object to being ])lumbed 
 
 by them, and squared and angled off, — geometrized, in 
 
 fact, and ignoring the little story of our lives, we are 
 
 told to accept certain conclusions, in which there is about 
 
 as nmch heart and sympathy as ina clalk mark on a black 
 
 board. 
 
 XXXVli . 
 
 There are two cardinal points in our mental compass 
 corresponding with the north and south of the physical, — I 
 mean the past and the future : the former is replete with 
 
 , i 
 i 
 
302 
 
 REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 
 I'll" 
 
 
 
 " .1 
 . -1 
 
 •■i 
 
 I' 
 
 
 
 
 
 disaster, and inspires us with such a wholesome dread that 
 on the least inkling of (hmger we take to scannirifj tin- 
 latter to see what it has in store ; an<l, like the mariner at 
 sea, note with more or less anxiety the indication^ of sky 
 and barometer. 
 
 I don't propose to dwell so much on the subject of the 
 future, here, as it comes in better under the b a<l of im- 
 af,dnation ; besides, there is not very much to be gained 
 there, anyway, save pleasant pictures. ¥oy the matter of 
 that, it might be calltMl the picture galler}^ of life, so mucli 
 are we disposed to turn to the future oidy with thoughts 
 of en joym«'nt ; and it being the place where we may fashion 
 things to suit ourselves, it is there we feast our fancies tu 
 the full 
 
 While the past may condemn, the future only rarely ad- 
 monishes, and that so lovingly that it smiles in the very look 
 in which it chides ; but as it has its sunshine, it jilso has its 
 shadow, and the very element of uncertainty in which we 
 rejoice,is tinctured with phantom shades which it is wonder- 
 ful finly perpl< A, and do not, as might be expected, dispirit 
 and appal. All our enterprise takes its vim and charm 
 from the future, — and like the vouth, sroincj forth into the 
 world, we are looking smilingly forward and tearfully back- 
 ward. Tn one sense it is disheartening, in another en- 
 couraging that that lia])[)iness which is supposed to come 
 in the performance of good deeds, is not adequate to our 
 wants ; and that it is not, is shown in the fact that even 
 our best and greatest men, seem to labor under a consti- 
 tutional disability to rejoice over past life ; and they, 
 equally disconsolate with tlie meanest and poorest (I was 
 
 i li 
 
 J 
 
AMNEHTy. 
 
 8ti3 
 
 siboiit to .say, th»' most ^'tillty and remorseful), lauu'nt it 
 mi«;ht not Iiave been beHcr ami mure fruitful. Thu.s, 
 tot^ethor with thi ragged ami needy rabble, we Hud them, 
 in obedience to the ecjuable influent;e of som*' ^reat law of 
 nature, tumin<'th»Mr bnckHon what Hoem to {Win tlie insi*'- 
 nificant tiiumphs of the past, and with iheir faces to the 
 fut .ire,wi.shing, ho[>in;,^ HtruLCnlin«i on ! No nxntal power 
 can diminish the speed, much less sto[) this gieat title of 
 human energy; in fact no • ffort is made with that inten- 
 tion, althou;jfh we know when wo ratch the back-wash it 
 will bring w ith it a mighty wave under which we shall 
 be overwdi(dmed a- etf«*ctually as was the little village of 
 Pompeii, bul)ni"',ged by fifteen I'eet of burning cinder and 
 molten lava. 
 
 Alluring as the future may s*Hnn in some respects, any 
 attempt, out of the usual course of nature, to realize 
 or to pry into its mysttnits, is promptly met with a most 
 em[)hatic and discouraging rebutf; we may enjoy the 
 flow( , but we must not pick it to pieces, else the charm 
 is lost and we see onlv the seed whence we cami and 
 whither wo go. At times, startled as is the hi nt^<l stag 
 at the certain doom coming toward him, we, too, turn 
 to the future and scan its veiled aspect closely to see if 
 we may divine the nature of the n fuge there; but the 
 knowledge vouchsafed tons is encumU^red with still greater 
 perplexities; and, lik-' the hai-assed Indian who tiruls civil- 
 ization a plague, we turn from the frettrd, puny lealms of 
 fact to that trackless region which imagination pictures, — 
 hid<len away in a wilderness of bright colore<l, sweet 
 smelling foliage, and seek to plunge yet more deeply into 
 its grateful shades and perfumed grottos. 
 
 
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 1 
 
364 
 
 REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 It is consolino- no doiiht; but, beyond tlic gvatificatiou 
 of our fancy, what do we find ? — That m reality tlie great 
 blank wall of etei'nity shuts right down before us, or opens 
 out into an illimitable sea of surmise. — What we thought 
 we knew, later we find furthest from the truth, and the 
 great ])roblem of the day takes us into night ; the puzzle is 
 tiresome, and twilight and reflection brinor no rest — no 
 peace. We really only find the question the more ob- 
 scure and the ways of providence the more inscrutable ; 
 vexed and fevered we know not what to think, and then 
 all fagged we doze away ! Ah, it i^: the tired spirit resting 
 and recuperating in the great maze of mystery that clogs 
 thought and dazes intellect ; then, in the magic of a grate- 
 ful trance, we dream we are awake, — and wake, — to find 
 
 it all a dream. 
 
 XXXVIIT. 
 
 Turning to the past, the spectacle presented to tlie 
 mind's eye is that of a more fruitful field, and there are 
 evidences of a more substantial growth ; but then again, 
 the fields have a harvested look, and while the signs of 
 fruition may be greater, there is withal the musty smell 
 of dissolution. — The sickle has been there, autunni and 
 winter have intervened, and we detect very little of the 
 lingering perfumes, and none of the fresh, budding look 
 that distinguishes the later months and makes the future 
 seem a perpetual spring. Although, generally speaking, 
 we do not like the past, it often intrudes itself on our 
 notice ; turn which way we may events throw us back, 
 however unwillingly upon our past. As I intimated in 
 
AMNESTY. 
 
 365 
 
 another place that the world with all its seeming progress 
 was retracing its steps, so with individuals, they must go 
 back and, though it may not all be an ovation to some, 
 recontemplate the marks they have planted. 
 
 Regarding the past g(inerally and refleetively, wliat, let 
 us ask, has become of all the people and fruits grown there. 
 Whereare the nations and thegranaries and theaccumulated 
 wealth of man and of nature for the seven thousand three 
 hundred and eighty-eight years jotted down in our mem- 
 orandum, and for the indefinite margin of time twixt our 
 earliest dates and the time God said, "Let there be light "? 
 It is impossible to realize the awful devastation compre- 
 hended in the reply, — they have vanished ! What have 
 New York, London, Paris and all the other capitals of 
 the globe, together with their mighty tributaries and 
 accessories, animate and inanimate, to show for the pro- 
 ductions of a hard worked, ingenious, prolific world since 
 the occupation of space and the creation of Adam ? We 
 answer, comparatively so many tiny grains of mustard 
 seed ! -:•• , '>^:-^' . 
 
 Of all the countless millions that have passed away, 
 what are the evidences left of our great enterprising 
 humanity ? Bring forward all your arguments of chemistry 
 respecting the economy of Nature and the indestructibility 
 of matter, to convince me the leaves that deck the benign 
 brow of our own peerless goddess of plenty, are the same 
 that veiled the nakedness of Eve. Or, to moderate our tone 
 a little and to make our demands more in accordance 
 with the limited ability to answer, let us enquire how 
 much do we know of the great world of extinct life ? 
 
 I 
 
S66 
 
 REVERIES OB* A^ OLD SMOKEtt. 
 
 Briefly and in round figures, nothing ! At most how few 
 are the traces lemaining; — a shred, a particle, an atom here 
 and there, but comparatively no more than what is left 
 of Solomon's Temple, or of the tail of Ben. Franklin's 
 kite. 
 
 It is appalling to reflect how complete has been the 
 destruction ; and making the most of what we have read 
 and think we know, we must confess of times past, our 
 records are most fragmentary, imperfect and unsatisfac- 
 tory. It may not have been the intention of our scribes 
 to disfigure or to mutilate, but they embellish till they 
 obliterate, and in the eflbrt to preserve, annihilate. We 
 may illustrate this by glancing at that capricious lumi- 
 nary of the past, yclept tradition whose dazzling corrus- 
 cation, eradiating the murky atmosphere of history, en- 
 lightens the modei-n world. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 It is an old saying that " language is given us to hide 
 our thoughts." I would go further and say that writing 
 is bestowed on a people to enable them to pervert the 
 truth, and to deceive posterity. The written form of tra- 
 dition, is legend; and whatever may be said of the former 
 applies in substance to the latter. What was not written 
 w^e would not naturally expect had been preserved, hence 
 our contempt for tradition ; but this, since the era of writ- 
 ing, we find taking the later guise of legend, which like 
 its counterpart and older kin is only a moral and instruc- 
 tive metamorphosis of truth. Here we may note, too. 
 
AMNESTY. 
 
 S()7 
 
 that many cliarining narrations found fathered on both 
 legend and tradition, owe their being to an ingenuity and 
 invention ahnost exchisively modern ; being, for the most 
 part, the offspring of tliose splendid and prolific imagina- 
 tions by which they were conceived and adorned. 
 
 We do not complain of these fancies, on the contrary we 
 are more than reconciled, we are happy to be humbugged by 
 them. They are to nations wliat ilhisions are to individu- 
 als, — a precious birthright,— and we dread that scourge of 
 idoldom, — the Iconoclast, — as well we may ; for once let 
 that kingof midgesinvadethosefloral exotics thatembellish 
 not only genuine tradition, but that more recent eti'uhion 
 of newfangled coloring falselv ascribed to legend, and 
 soon what will be left ? Nothing, — but the waxen outline 
 of dried up honey-comb from which has been sucked the 
 luscious sweets of fable. Fdchin(j nearer the point 
 still, strip Roman or Grecian history, or English or Scotch, 
 of its legendary lore what would be the effect ? We can- 
 not realize the prodigious havoc tljat would be made, but 
 it is no idle speculation to surmise, the splendid fabric . 
 would topple in the first breath of wholesome air; and a 
 structure that seems to gain with age an even greater 
 fund of youth and beauty, would crumble into ruins and, 
 dissolving, like the florid outlines of an exhumed corpse, 
 leave the appalled and contemjilative student only such a 
 sparse accumulation of pulverized relics, as might consti- 
 tute a respectable collection of fossil remains. 
 
 If there be any truth in these observations, it goes to 
 sustain the exception I have taken to the infallibility of 
 records ; and the position is still further exemplified in 
 
 i:; 
 
 \, 
 
368 
 
 IIEVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 the more trivial affairs of our daily intercourse. Thero, 
 it is a hackneyed fact that " stories" so short lived as not 
 to attain beyond the longevity of mere gossip, bandied 
 from mouth to mouth and from pen to pen, even in the 
 same language, become discolored and distorted. It 
 would seem, with each, as in the case of an organic sub- 
 stance, decomposition had set in from its very inception ; 
 but denied quiet extinction, under the recuperative im- 
 petus of morbid curiosity, the putrid mass becomes 
 animated ; then, giving forth, as in insect life, myriad 
 specimens of which there is not a trace of the original, 
 these, assuming to be true versions, wriggle and crawl till, 
 at last, they flit away into the elysium known as "small 
 talk." 
 
 It may be seen, then, in our efforts to preserve the nar- 
 rative of past events, truth must have gone through a 
 somewhat complicated process, each stage of which is 
 assun\ed to be historical, and of course perfect ; and this, 
 according to the period in which we live, constitutes tlie 
 commonly accepted standard of our belief and judgment. 
 But would it not be marvellous if, in the multiplicity of 
 representations commended to our credulity as true like- 
 nesses, the majority were not absurd caricatures ; and in 
 this connection I will venture on a suggestion which occurs 
 to me at the moment as illustrative of my meaning. 
 
 Suppose a few of the more noted worthies of antiquity, 
 with whom we profess intimate acquaintance, were brought 
 to life— I trust it may not be irreverent to call them up — 
 then, allowing they could be made sufficiently reconciled 
 with the drama of to-day to be induced to witness a per- 
 
AMNESTY. 
 
 300 
 
 . Thero, 
 ed as not 
 , bandied 
 en in the 
 rted. It 
 ranic sul)- 
 nception ; 
 •ative ini- 
 i becomes 
 e, myriad 
 e original, 
 crawl till, 
 I as "small 
 
 ^e the nar- 
 through a 
 • which is 
 and this, 
 titntes the 
 judgment, 
 iplicity of 
 true like- 
 s ; and in 
 ich occurs 
 
 ling- . 
 antiquity, 
 
 Ire brought 
 |them up- 
 reconciled 
 
 less a per- 
 
 formance— let the play be " histori(!al," and founded on 
 a fair specimen of the so called " facts " recorded of their 
 period and lives. What a prodigious burlesciue it would 
 all seem to those old patriarchs, and how they would roar 
 and laugh to split tlu^ir sides! — never once imi)iltiMg even a 
 hint whom the ch :.u,oters and events thus re-enactod were 
 intended for. I may be doing our noble scribes injustice, 
 but the fact is, in my efforts to commit their voluminous 
 productions to memory, I have become meditative and 
 sceptical ; till now, I am very much at a loss to know what 
 part or how nmch of modern history to believe ; and only 
 read ancient, as I would ''Tales of a Grandfather," — that is, 
 for amusement and as standard specimens of ingenuity 
 and wit. 
 
 As we sit contemplating the past, these are the thoughts 
 that brood, phantom-like, over the scene; and out from 
 the darkened vale there comes cra-iking on the night-air 
 the reiterated query, what about the millions upon mil- 
 lions that are gone, and where is the lost Diary of the 
 dead World ! History, as we have intimated, records and 
 contradicts some of the triumphs and reverses of nations ; 
 and biography has made us, as we think, familiar with 
 the success and failure of comparatively a few of the 
 most noted men, and still fewer women ; but what a puny 
 epitome is this of the world's boundless volume of good 
 and ill since creation — wherein, each letter, were a long 
 life's troubled career — each worcZ, the vicissitudes of a whole 
 generation — and each sentence, the story of a nation's rise 
 and growth, its decline and ultimate extinction ! 
 
370 
 
 REVLHIES OF AN OLD SM(JKER. 
 
 Biograpliy is replete with the renown of emperors an<l 
 prolific in the exploits of chieftains in war and state ; but 
 where is the chronicle of the lives and doings of all the 
 rest of mankind ? Those, I mean, who failed to make for 
 themselves a name conspicuous enough in deeds, good or 
 bad, to resound over the earth and to echo through all 
 succeeding generations. Passing by cases in a remoter 
 period which, like that of Hannibal, stand alone in the 
 grandeur of utter isolation, and coming down to times 
 comparatively recent, — it must be admitted we know, or 
 think we know, a li4itle about Napoleon ; but what about 
 the heroes that composed the ^rrand army of Napoleon ? 
 Here and there, it it true, a beam of reflected light is cast 
 on a few such characters as Ney, and Murat, and re- 
 deem from perpetual shade two or three or may be five or 
 ten of the million human physiognomies that frame the 
 portrait of one man. But in this case, we find the glory 
 of one great name <^xha\|^ting the research and satisfying 
 the ambition of biographers; — the world has no market 
 for any more dead greatness and supply the demand for 
 the living ; so what becomes of all the '"est, — what be- 
 comes of the fathers, brothers, and sons whose devotion 
 and heroism made Napoleon emperor, and France the most 
 renowned in modern chivalry ? One word suffices — ob- 
 livion! 
 
 ^.V ■■;'-.::■::-:'' ■:^^ xli. -;*'^^:;-:':,^; ■' 
 
 Where, then, is the true diary of the world that is 
 dead ? There is none ; never was and never will be. The 
 nearest thing we have to it, barring an immense mass of 
 
AMNHSTV. 
 
 871 
 
 irrelevant garbage is found in the Bibles of nations ; and 
 that, not as narmfive but as j^rrcepf — not simply in tlio 
 chronicle of events, hut in the lessons which they incul- 
 cate. All parts of these good hooks may not be, and 
 certainly are not, inspired— none of them, in fact, in the 
 crude notion of n-hat the word inspiration means; and to 
 maintain that such works, however highly they may be 
 reverenced, should have no particle of alloy, is simply 
 claiming for them an impossibility ; indeed, the very 
 effort shows a lamentable want of esteem for those other 
 parts which are evidently sound and incomparably }>er- 
 fect. 
 
 Who knows anythiug that is not made up of a certain 
 amount of " dross ;" nay, one of the greatest difficulties 
 in life is the stint of separating the intrinsic from the 
 extrinsic so as to make the [)roper distinction between 
 good and bad, and to divine what to cherish and what to 
 repudiate. This, however patiexitly or zealously or de- 
 voutly it may have been essayed, has never been accom- 
 plished to the complete satisfaction of either individuals 
 nations or posterity ; and that, whether as regards private 
 affairs or public works. 
 
 While that estimable volume, compiled fVom the theo- 
 logies of consecutive civilizations and races of people, — 
 our Bible, — forms no exception in the application of the 
 above, it must be confessed in that great granary, the 
 harvest of fruitful ages, the separating of the grain from 
 the chaff, may seem a stu])endous undertaking, and in one 
 sense it is ; Nevertheless, while it is a job that may not 
 be let out to be done by others to suit our convenience, 
 
372 
 
 UEVEUIES OF AN OLD SMOKEU. 
 
 yet, to <L,Maj)plo with tliose facts, tlio only rational ones, 
 that appeal to our inoial nature, nee<l not clismay even 
 the humblest intellect amongst us. 
 
 Nay, even in those subtler distinctions to which we have 
 referred, it is encoura<j^ing to the less pretentious classes, to 
 bear in mind that the "race" is not always " to the stiong," 
 nor victory on the side of " the biggest guns." — The fact 
 may be stale, but it is none the less a fact, that the 
 major paH of our grandest discoveries are not, as many 
 think, the result of profound mental penetration, — of pro- 
 digious wisdom and indefatigable research, — but, on the 
 contrary, are mainly attributable to mere accident ; and, 
 as in the case of the marvellous revelation that gave us the 
 telescope, — to the sportive observation of merry-making 
 children. Aye, and passing by the trophies of occult science, 
 — glancing into tho bewildering labyrinths of philoso- 
 phy and metaphysics, — the novice is astonished that men 
 of greatest learning and astutest minds, dazzled with too 
 much light, grope blindly at noonday and are lost in a 
 maze, wherein the veriest dolt has pickde his way in tri- 
 umph at midnight. ' 
 
 XLII. ■:.-: -;.;^^-,.^':. ■: - 
 
 I would like to say here, it seems strange to me that that 
 grand monument of evangelical faith, the Bible, should be 
 regarded as a granite shaft, changeless and without the vital 
 qualities of a living growth. On the contrary, I believe it 
 were not too refined a conception of its sublime mission, 
 to regard it in the light of a sentient Being, — with veins 
 ramifying the hearts of men and surging in the living 
 
AMNESTY. 
 
 nrn 
 
 throes of evory hroath tliey ))reatho.— OtluTwi.se, its func- 
 tions in our spiritual orjranisiu, wen* only such as comes 
 of <;irrnftin«f a dea.l trunk on a live tree. Then, without 
 lookin*,' with supine iinltecility to tlie pompous bickering 
 of anti(iuated ecumenical councils, successive generations 
 would be its revisors ; and, adding the mite which the ex- 
 perience of each luid adduced, the "Ark " would be kept 
 moving, — its pedigree in the past would he legitimized, 
 — and for the future, the Bible of a th(Misand years from 
 now should not be stinted to the forest of dead leaves 
 upon which we look, but have leavened with it the vitaliz- 
 ing properties evolved from twenty generations of precept. 
 Regarding tlie distinction of what is genuine in the 
 BiVde and what is not, I believe it may be left to ccmscienc^;, 
 the interpretation to be bona fide through that medium, 
 each in a way most applical)le to his need ; and not left, 
 as the learned professors would have ns, to tliem exclu- 
 sively. The great force and effect of its teaching (h'pends 
 on ones own particular (rase, and that no one knows but 
 himself. He need not hesitate to trust to conscience to 
 give those good lessons of lifv) their true bearing and sig- 
 nificance. All the details of individual cases may not be 
 known, but we have not only our own Bil)le, but that of 
 others, and also our own observation, to convince us cliat 
 the precept at least we tind therein contained is infallible. 
 But, while admitting this, I claim that the world, not- 
 withstanding its manifold professions to the contrary, 
 is directly guided and influenced very little by them> 
 being taken up rather with those parts which pertain to 
 doctrine and lead to strife. t • . 
 
 j^ 
 
 ;;i 
 
n74 
 
 ULVKUIKS OF AN ()i,l) SMoKKR. 
 
 Reforiitig to tlic sad caso mentioned in a preceding aitl- 
 cle, we may (juote in this connection one of the many old 
 sayings, " Jk;\vare of wine and women. " We an; disposed 
 to interpret this wrongly ; it <loes not mean bad women 
 any more tlian it (hies had wine ; the warning finger points 
 to all alik( , a!i<l to every species of intoxication. Hew are 
 of wine and women ! How stupid and ungratt^fid is the 
 perversity with which we put aside as old shoes or scorn 
 as vulgar this time-honored and friendly advice ! — not al- 
 ways viciously nor yet intentionally — it may be thought- 
 lessly, and fretpiently with a ceitain amount of what is 
 called reverence for the sacred source whence it comes ; 
 but presuming, almost invariably, it means something or 
 Bomebody worse tlian we meet in our everyday life and 
 experience ; whereas, it no doubt applies to all mankind 
 and womonkind without exception. 
 
 But arrogating to ourselves virtues we dt) not possess, 
 wanting in the fundamental principle of righteousness 
 which is charity, we seek to find in the too aj)[)arent de- 
 pravity of others immunity for ourselves ; hence it is only 
 to admonish the vulgar, it is written, " Beware of wine 
 and women." Alas ! what an unwelcoma heritage of good 
 counsel ; what pathos in that grim injunction, coming 
 down to us as it does from generation to generation of 
 loving hearts and blighted lives ! As we look back over 
 the blank, silent solitude of the past, we can only imagine 
 how many have struck on that fatal ledge and gone down 
 right in the offing of the most serene and pleasant of all 
 peaceful havens ! Ah, we listen in vain ; not a single cry, 
 but such precious old warnings as these, comes up from 
 those placid waters. 
 
AMNKSTV. 
 
 ;i75 
 
 Wt' know of t\w '* prodin^al " tliat ret\ime«l, Imt wliat of 
 the one of millions that did not return ' Far from friends 
 and all who IovimI Itini, vvlio smootlu-d down his [>illow and 
 comforted liiin in his thouLjhts of kindred and of home. 
 Well, there is a something prevailing, so far as we will 
 allow it, against all adversity and against all ill — it goes 
 with ns an<l knows onr thoughts, when none else in the 
 world would eare or understand ; and though we may never 
 know whither our brother went or what beeamo of him, 
 yet one lesson of his harassed life we do know, — it is borne 
 on the wings of that brooding angel who is ever on the 
 trail of missing lambs, — and garnered up in the " Good 
 Book," we read, " Honoi" thy father and thy mother, that 
 thy days may be long in the land." 
 
 Or, take the counter part of the " Prodigal " — the sister 
 betrayed — the s{)ort of passion, the comi)anion of infamy, 
 and the most contemptible in the eyes of self and the 
 world. — What would be her last loving words, it may be, 
 to that offspring of her shame vouchsafed to her as the 
 most potent incentive to reform. — In the great agony of 
 close impending dissolution, she sees the only object left 
 her to love or to be loved by — what heritage does she seek, 
 then, to bequeath— what boon more precious than gold 
 would she, if she could, leave behind ^— She cannot speak 
 — she is too far gone even to gesture ;— but One who 
 knows all hearts,— that ubiquitous spirit of infinite com- 
 miseration, is there, and sees, in what seems a great spasm 
 of pain, the last best tribute of a breaking heart ;— and, 
 reading, gives it to the weeping child— what ' only those 
 
37G 
 
 REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 hackneyed words tliat make us all laugli, — "Be virtuous, 
 and you will be happy!" Maxims like these are about 
 the only reliable words that come commended to us through 
 the dim shadow of that hushed past ; and while sou^e, 
 though virtually belonging, may not actually be incorpo- 
 rated, in Holy Writ, nevertheless they are just as strong 
 and binding, wherever we find them, as Commandments ; 
 and while all our better nature teaches us to obey, they 
 may only appeal to our common sense of right and our 
 instincts of self-preservation. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 There is another matter that w^e may take a look at 
 here — I mean danger. You may say Avhat about danger ? 
 We all know what that is, surely. Well, there are different 
 kinds of danger : — there is the hazy sort of general idea of 
 danger which is preached and croaked about, but which 
 we think too remote to trouble ourselves with ; then, 
 there is glaring danger ; and again, a trivial sort where 
 we feel tolerably certain there is none at all. I believe 
 we need not trouble ourselves about glaring danger ; 
 there is generally in this case a look-out somewhere to 
 give us the signal. — A flag is waved in the glare of the 
 head-lights, and tells the engineer to put on brakes — a 
 bridge may be down — a culvert washed away — or a train 
 rushing down like an avalanche in an opposite direction 
 — it means stop for your life ! And of course we do stop, 
 all trembling with apprehension and fear. The shock to 
 our nervous system is great, and when we have collected 
 our terrified senses, our gratitude for a brief time knows 
 
AMNESTY. 
 
 377 
 
 no bounds, and generally takes the form of new and bet- 
 ter resolves. 
 
 Here, then, the danger was terribly apparent, and we 
 were greatly frightened, but the real danger was propor- 
 tionably less ; besides, we only stood a chance of getting 
 bruised or maimed, and the thing that threatened and 
 the object menaced were material. There is the Ldarin<^ 
 danger, also, betokening hostility and manifest design; but 
 it need not be dreaded by any one tolerably courageous, 
 and not utterly defenceless. At the same time, this is the 
 form we take the greatest pains to guard against, and on 
 those points most ccmspicuously exposed, we mass all our 
 forces, and, standing firm on the outer bulwark that shields 
 the Palladium, defy the enemy openly, boldly. 
 
 In our general appreciation of danger, this is the system 
 of defence most commonly adopted and relied on ; it is 
 commendable, and virtue, armed to the teeth to repel 
 boarders, may find it sufiicient in cases of glaring dan- 
 ger or open hostility. But there is another greater dan- 
 ger, where this defence utterly fails; indeed, to the wary 
 invader the very show of so much determination indicates* 
 if not debility, at least vulnerability; and in all this dis- 
 play of defensive armament, there is an evidence of consci- 
 ous weakness. Most evil finds its greatest triumph where 
 the purest virtue sits enthroned ; but, while the most im- 
 pregnable strongholds may offer the strongest resistance, 
 where, in all history, do we find one that has not yielded 
 to the final assault. We have noticed that because danger 
 is very glaring, it does not follow the actual peril need be 
 very great — it is then only comparatively alarming, and 
 as a rule, proportionately less. 
 
878 
 
 REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 We may illustrate this by refciring to a battle-field, and 
 to the only case, perhaps, that nii^Ljdit disprove our propo- 
 sition. To see, for instance, two lines of hostile cavalry 
 — with that most formidable weapon, the sabre, dra\\ ii — 
 advancing against one another in a "charge," is a sight well 
 calculated to inspire dread, and it does; almost the com- 
 plete annihilation of all concerned may be apprehended. 
 But what is the general result ? In nine cases out of ten, 
 each horseman in expectation of the cut or thrust of his 
 adversary, remains on the defensive ; and the two lines 
 pass completely through and do one another comparatively 
 little or no harm. I don't imagine this, I have seen it, and 
 know it to be true, and a more glaring and apparent 
 danger could not be conceived. Again, let us be on the 
 water when it is rough, — in some tiny craft, floating like 
 a bubble, and nearly as frail. — There comes a great wave 
 rolling in on us, — a perpendicular wall of water, — does it 
 break over and bury us deep down ? — No ; in almost the 
 same glance of terror the novice casts upon it, he sees 
 his buoyant bark all gracefully and tranquilly riding on 
 its crest. 
 
 The same, too, may be instanced of the lower grades of 
 animal life. — They, too, get their warning, but their senses 
 are not blunted with high -living and stupefying indul- 
 gences, and they heed, as is proper, the slightest indica- 
 tions of alarm. Do you see that feathery innocent crouched 
 low in the grass ? it sees the ponderous boots of the sports- 
 man coming crunching along ; and to that little silent 
 beauty nesting there, they do seem veritable monsters and 
 real dangers. Of all things most easily affrighted, its little 
 
AMNESTY. 
 
 370 
 
 IC 
 
 heart tlirobs, and it pants with fear,— but instinct, tl 
 hu.sh of the bird's presiding spirit Rays, bo still. And 
 silent, regardless, immovable, as if transfixed in death, or 
 petrified in stone, it conquers its ruling impulse to fly — 
 it does not move — the danger passes — it is saved, and tlio 
 little one is left unharme*! to its sweet mission of sin'dn*"- 
 and of hatehino- souors. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 No, it is not the very glaring d inger, but the seem- 
 ingly trivial or none-at-all sort we have reason to dread, 
 and especially is this the case in our social relations and 
 intercourse with each other. Then, the whole aspect of 
 danger is changed, and its warnings obscure as the doubt- 
 ful signs of a coming storm. Here, there is no head-light 
 to warn us, no wavin<if flag, no startlint^ tootino- of down- 
 brakes. One aspect of this kind of danger is that it may 
 take upon itself the most attractive disguise, and while 
 coming along in our better humors, unawares, its ap- 
 proach is pleasing and seductive as the dulcet wave of 
 some sweet, melodious song. 
 
 Thus it is we may lapse into danger insensibly,even when 
 we mean conscientiously to avoid it, and this is the weak 
 place with the most impregnable — Then, indeed, it comes 
 upon us as does sleep in the drowsy vigils of the night ; 
 and the weary sentinel, with his musket clutched in 
 his nerveless grasp, dreams he watches and is betrayed ! 
 We may be lost in the effort to save ; and wdien we would 
 indignantly disclaim, and sincerely, all sinister intention 
 or thought of guile, the evil has, by some inexpli<:able 
 
380 
 
 REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 cunning, spun its web about us and within its meshes we 
 find, when too late, the mischief lay not in the mighty 
 wave, but in the almost imperceptible mist ; — not in the 
 issue of loudly heralded alternatives, — not in the violent 
 rush of rude contending l)odies, — but in the fragrant ex- 
 halation of kissing rose-leaves, or in the dreamy incense 
 of sleeping lilies ! 
 
 Thus, we observe, the danger most to be dreaded is 
 masked, and one special peculiarity about this fatal to the 
 victim, is, it seldom if ever appears in exactly the same 
 disguise ; — indeed, its wardrobe is so multifarious we may 
 not exaggerate in saying no human eye ever beheld it twice 
 in the same garb. — It is not uniformed like soldiers, and 
 never appears when we are in line of battle, ready to re- 
 ceive it ; or if it does, it comes in a deceitful, phantom form 
 and insinuating itself like a pestilence, creeps in through 
 the joints and crevices of the most invulnerable armor. 
 We cannot photograph it, — we cannot point it out and 
 spot it, any more than we can the bee that stung us. No ; 
 — it always appears in some novel form, and while it does 
 not answer the hackneyed description of what is bad, 
 neither does it suit the indictment appended to the re- 
 ward which all mankind has set upon its head. On the 
 contrary, there is too apt to be a plausibility about it, 
 that to properly understand, calls for all our sobriety and 
 vigilance, and even then are we all too frequently misled. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 We are reminded in the above connection of the grand 
 old Frigates that lay in such imposing security in Hampton 
 
AMNESTY. 
 
 ScSl 
 
 Roads. Tlicy were the last to perceive danr^^er in tlie absurd 
 little experiment of an " Iron-clad ;" and also Troy, that 
 was proof against all assaults of arms, and could defy 
 the prowess of an Agemenmon, fell, at last, an easy prey, 
 not to the ordinary engines of war, she could laugh at 
 them, but to a whimsical stratagem — an almost ludicrous 
 contrivance, that striked boldly in, under tlie apparently 
 harmless guise of a horse. Affection, even rarely divines 
 the danger of which I speak, and it may, indeed, it often 
 does (by way of temptation), come in the for:n or in be- 
 half of those most cherished and loved. Nay, we may 
 inhale it in our most innocent admiration, — then it is the 
 poisoned air breathed in the perfume of sweetest tlowers, — 
 and finally, it may wear the livery of our most trusted 
 slave, or robe itself in the mantle of our dearest friend ! 
 " Aye, there's the rub ! " 
 
 But you say, what is this dftnger all so puzzling and 
 so baleful, which you so unkindly attribute to our best 
 beloved and l)id us beware ? Well, it is a latent mischief 
 inherent in the nature of things, and is propagated in 
 the human organism from the vital essence whose quali- 
 ties combine in the higher growth of animal life, all the 
 attributes of the universe. — The germ whence it is com- 
 municated is at once too infmitesimal and etherial to be 
 seen and too grand and sublime to be comprehended, — 
 though in the highest state of moral sensitiveness it may 
 be felt. — All too intangible for the mind to grasp, its crea- 
 tion is as the dream of the " Immaculate Conception," — 
 its existence, the impregnation of a glance, and its spawn 
 
nH2 
 
 REVERIES OF AN OLD SMOKER. 
 
 matures through the progressive growth of ages, aye, even 
 of eternity itself, all in a second, — and tliat second is the 
 first long drawn sigh of the new born l)ahe ! ! 
 
 Around tliis helpless epitome of humanity and of sin 
 cluster all that phantom band who claim affinity to 
 virtue : — Pity is there — Hope is there — Charity is there, — ^ 
 and Fidelity, and all the rest. — The Father of all is in- 
 visible, buc present in these, the pledges of his love, 
 — and it is their kiss upon our lips that first startles 
 us from our long trance and wakes us into life ! ! As 
 we open our eyes they vanish awa}' — nay, not quite 
 away — they have only taken refuge in our hearts, and 
 thenceforward become as the inspiring spirit we call 
 our " Good Angel," to incline and persuade us to better 
 things. We may prove obdurate, perverse, wicked, — 
 we may go all astra}^ and friends and society abandon 
 us, but these remain always faithful and kind. — Ashamed 
 of our ingratitude or finding their company irksome and 
 in ill accord with our appetites, we may seek to give them 
 the slip and steal away ; but they know all our haunts 
 and find their way straight to our hiding place — like 
 absent members of a convivial band, returning, thread 
 wich fjimiliar ease the labyrinth that leads to the social 
 meet of boon companions. Often when the world rejoices 
 they weep and are sad, and when it mourns they smile 
 as if in the triumph of an unrevealed glory. — Do you 
 mind that poor girl, she whose life was one of shame ? 
 " Creed " said, " let her die ! " and there, in that place all 
 sequestered and shunned they put her away. Ah little 
 
AMNESTY. 
 
 :m;i 
 
 % aye, even 
 3ond is the 
 
 nnd of sin 
 
 sifiinity to 
 
 is tliere, — 
 • 
 
 - all is in- 
 liis love, 
 •^t startles 
 ifel! As 
 not quite 
 earts, and 
 t we call 
 to better 
 kicked, — 
 abandon 
 Ashamed 
 some and 
 ive them 
 ir haunts 
 ice — like 
 % thread 
 he social 
 [ rejoices 
 ey smile 
 Do you 
 shame ? 
 place all 
 Ui little 
 
 do they think that place is above all otluas "Ood'sacre," — 
 the seclusion wliere peace and reconciliation is made with 
 his erring children, — and far away from tlie stignja of an 
 earthly tribunal there is i-ejoicing. — It is that baud of 
 ministering spirits, attril)utes to a Love sublime, welcom- 
 ing to their better home a sister long lost, but now re- 
 stored. 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 I may be wrong in my vi(;ws of the abnndoned and 
 condenmed ; but though I op[)ose, in this respect, those of 
 a more rigid orthodoxy, still do I claim that none of these 
 people have lived in vain. The book of their justification 
 may be sealed, and the little story of a life's secret die, 
 but it leaves its seed in precept, and their part, even to 
 posterity, is not all a desert of barren dust. For their sake, 
 tdien, I trust, it may not l)e the concatenation of an idle 
 chimera to assume that, as in the sterile waste of fallow 
 ocean, there is planted a treasure more precious than 
 gold, so in the slums of the most ignoble career abides a 
 " pearl of infinite price ; " and though the wages of sin be 
 " death," may we not hope therein lies the soul's equity of 
 redemption. 
 
 While the good and ill of life are the effects of caprice 
 and circumstance, it's only in the last flickering impulse 
 of our vital energies the spirit grapples in a conflict 
 whose quietus is eternal amnesty. Condensed within the 
 narrow scope of a death-pang, there is a boundless mea- 
 sure of expiation — it may not be contrition, but it has 
 
384 
 
 RKVERTKS OF AN OLD SMOKKR. 
 
 the redeeming eloment of pain, — and therein is ensconced 
 a germ whose eh'ctric fiuition is etf'rnal joy. W(^ have 
 no assnran((^ that tlm pani,' of wliich i sprak niay not 
 be ])roI<)n«^a'(l and attain to an intensity of a^^ony we wot 
 not of; — then, mayhap, we can bear it no longer — the 
 fiesh must snccumb, and a great cry goes out into tlie 
 gloom. It penetrates into the caverns and crevices of the 
 earth — it reaches up into tljo Heavens : — " Watcluuan, 
 what of the niglit ? " It echoes from liill to hill — it rev^er- 
 berates amongst the mountains and rolls down into the 
 valleys : — Watchman, tell us of the night ! Then all is 
 hushed, and a voice is heard, — the same whose dulcet ca- 
 dence in ineffable balm descended upon Jacob, and Job, and 
 Abraham : — Peace, all is ivell! — 
 
 A gray beam is seen gleaming in the east — it unfolds 
 and expands — it is the shimmering light of an all-pre- 
 vailing Love, the Aurora of a great pitying Redem[)tion. — 
 The darkness yields, — the dawn breaks, and all hail the 
 perpetual morning of never ending day ! 
 
 FINIS. 
 
nsconced 
 \V(^ liavo 
 may not 
 ' we wot 
 
 mil — the 
 into tlie 
 
 CM of t})0 
 
 itclinuui, 
 it rov^cr- 
 into tho 
 en all ia 
 Lilcet ca- 
 Job, and 
 
 unfolds 
 
 all-pre- 
 
 ption. — 
 
 hail the