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CLEMENS) TORONTO THE MUSSON BOOK COMPANY LIMITED P5I2 Si-5^ S 7 :JJ I rj Mt CONTENTS. ' nu BiouDi Wmn Suphaiit 8oia BAMuna Kom or in inu Kxoimnoir ... ^ iHi FAon oosonvua nu maurr Oi»inyn. of Gbimb i» CkmiionouT ^ Abouy ]CAovAviMous.iirOTDiirT LmiATinii. , . . iio IPwroH, Bbothim^ PiriroR , ' ^^ A O^TionB IzpmnroB Thi Ouuv fiBVQLunoir nr PnoAnur ... , , ^ jy, »8. MoWlLLUMS AHD TBI LiGHnmiO .^ , ^ . ,9, 0» m D«C4T OF THI Ak of Ltuto . , ,p. Aw Ivooinraui wirv ah Umsnwwn * . . . sw Pabu Kons . 9M LIW WD OF BAOWFttD. llf OmifAMT . , . . »» 8nMcw ov vn Babim . . •— _ 988 BfbIOT OB TBB WBATBBB . . . . . , ^^ OOBOBBBtBO TBB AXttlOAB LABCHTA^b . . . . ' ^y BOOBM ... • • • • S59 tM Uiras OF ALOBSO FuS ClaBBBOB ABD BOfABBAB 889 ( M^ ■w. STOLEN WHITE ELEPHANT} I. ' Thi following curious history wm related to me by a ohanoe imilway aoquaintanoe. He wm a gentleman more than ■eventy years of age» and his thoroughly good and gentle face and earnest and sincere manner imprinted the unmistak- able stamp of truth upon eveiy statement which fell from his lips. He said — Tou know in what reverence t^ t>yal white elephant of Biam is held by the people of tha. c ntry. Tou know it is sacred to kings, only kings may possess it, and that it is indeed in a measure even superior to kings, since it receiyes not merely honour but worship. Very well ; five years ago^ when the troubles concerning the frontier line arose between Great Britain and Siam, it was presently manifest that Sian» had been in the wrong. Therefore every reparation was quickly made^ and the British representative stated that he was satisfied and the past should be forgotten. This greatly * Left out of A Tramp Abraadf because it was learad that some of the partionlan had been exaggerated, and that others were not tnie. Before these snspidons bad been proven grovndless, the book had gone to piess.— M. T. - • ■ B THJf STOLBN WEITS BLBPHANT. nlitfed the Sang of Siam^Mid puily m * tokon of gimtltiidib Imt ptrilj alio^ perhapt, to wipe out any Utile rem*ininf Teitiga of unplea«mtiie« which Kngland might fool toword hiniy ho wiahod to iond the Queen o present — the sole sure way of propitiating an enemy, aooording to Oriental ideaii Thii present ought not only to he a royal one, hot trana- oendently royal Wherefore, what offering ooold be so meol as that of a white elephant t My position in the Indian oivil seryioe was snoh that I was deemed peculiarly worthy *iie honour of conveying the present to Her Miy'esty. A ship was fitted out for me and my servants and the offioera and attendants of the elephant, and in due time I arrived in New York harbour and placed my royal charge in admirable quarters in Jersey Oity. It was necessary to remain awhile in order to recruit the animal's health before resuming tho voyage* • All went well during a fortnight — ^then my calamities began. The white elephant was stolen 1 I was called up at dead of night and informed of this fiaarful misfortune. IVir some moments I was beside myself with terror and anxiety; I was helpless. Then I grew calmer and ooUected my faculties. I soon saw my oourse— for indeed there was but the one course for an intelligent man to pursue. Late as it was, I flew to New York and got a policeman to conduct me to the headquarters of the detective force. Fortunately I arrived in time, though the chief of the force, the oelo* hrated Inspector Blunt» was just on the point of leaving for his home. He was a man of middle size and compact frame, and when he was thinking deeply h^ had a way of knitting iiB brows and tapping his forehead reflectively with his TSM BTOLBN WBITB SLSPSANT, • finger, whkh imprened you at onoe with the oonviotioD that foa ftood hi the presence of a pereon of no coitaion order. The Ywj sight of him gaTe me confidence and made ma hopeAiL I stated my errand. It did not flurry him in the leoat; it had no more risible eflfeot upon his iron self-poseession than If I had told him somebody had stolen my dog. He uotioned me to^ a seat, and said calmly— ' Allow me to think a moment, pleaee.' So saying, he sat down at his office table and leaned his head npon his hand. Several clerks were at work at th« other end of the room ; the seratohing of their pens was all thesoond I heard during the next six or seven minutes. Meantime the inspector sat there buried in thought. Finally he raised his head, and there was that in the firm lines of his faM which showed me that his brain had done its work and his plan was made. Sold he — and his voice was low and impressivo— 'This is no ordinary case. £very step must be warily taken; each step must be made sure before the next is ventured. And secrecy must be observed — secrecy profound and abeolnte. Speak to no one about the matter, not even the reporters. I will take care of them; I will see that they get only what it may suit my ends to let them know.' He touched a bell; a youth appeared. 'Alario^ tell the reporters to remain for the present.' The boy retired. 'Now let us proceed to business— «nd systematically. Nothing can be accomplished in iJiis trade of nune without strict and minute method.' He took a pen and some paper. ' Now— name of the dephantt' TSB BTOUm WMITM JBLSPMANT. . "11 ' Huaaa Ben AU Ben Sdim Abddlah Mobainmed MoiaA Alhammal JMnaelj^eebboyDhiiJiefip Sultan Bbn Bkndpoor.' 'YerywfllL QiTennunet' v 'Jumbo.' 'YeiyweU. Pluoeof biriht' < The capital caty of Siam.' - V. ' Pai»ntB living I ' <No— dead; 'HadtheyanyotheriaBaebendee this one r ^H^flH * None — ^he wae an only child.' < Yety welL These matters are sufficient under that head. Now please describe the elephant, and leave out no particular, however inm'gnificant^rthat is, insignificant from your point of view. To men in my profession there an no insignificant partiouiars ; they do not ezidt.' I described ; he wrote. When I was done, he said — ' Now listen. If I have made any mistakes, correct me.' He read aa follows — ' Height, 19 feet ; length, from apes of forehead to in> Bertiou of tail, 26 feet; length of trunk, 16 feet; togth of tail, 6 feet; total length, including trunk and tail, 48 leet; length of tusks, 9^ feet ; ears in keeping with these dimen- sions; footprint resembles the mark when one up-enda a barrel in the snow ; colour of the elephant, a dull white ; has a hole the me of a plate in each ear for the insertion of jewelry, and possesses the habit in a remarkable degree of squirting water upon spectators and of maltreathig with hia trunk not only such persons as he is acquainted with, but even entire strangers; limps slightly with his right hind U|[, and had a small fiicar in hia left armpit caused by a if A TMB 8T0LBN WMJTJB JBLBPSAlTf. iomier boQ ; had on, wlics stoko, » oastle ocntiaiiing M«fai for fifteen penonsy and a gold-oloyi laddle-blankBt the mmd an oidinaxy carpet.' lliere were no mistakes. The inspeotor touched the bell, handed the deeoription to Alario, and laid^- * Have fifty thoasand oqpies of this printed at onoe %tu4 mailed to every detective office and pawnbroker's sluypon the continent.' Alaric retired. <There-HBo tar, so good. Nezty I must have a pLotpgraph of the property.' I gave him one. He examined it criticaUy, and said— > < It must do, since we can do no better ; but be has hii trunk curled up and tudced into his mouth. That is vat* fortunate, and is calculated to mislead, for of course he does not ^usually have it in that position.' He touched his belL * Alaric^ have fifty thousand copies of this photograph made^ the first thing in themoming, and mail tham with the descriptive droulars.' Alaric retired to execute his orders. The inspector said — V ' It will be necessity to offer a reward, of eoursa Now as to the amount t ' ' What sum would yon suggest t ' * To begin with, I should say — ^well, twenty-five thousand dollars. It is an intricate and difficult business ; thm are a thousand avenues of escape and opportunities of conceal- ment. These thieves have friends and pels everywhere-—*' ' ' Heai me, do you know who they aret ' The waxy faoe^ practised in concealing the thoughts and fadings witl)!n, gave me no token, nor yet thiirq[»lying wotdsi io quietly uttwed-> 6 pi ■■- TBS 8T0LBK WHTFM XLBPEAlfT. * KevcKT mind about that I may, and I may not W« genwally gather a pretty ihrevd inklicg of who our man k by the manner of his work and the aiae of the game he goes after. We are not dealing with a pickpocket cr a hall thief, now, make up your mind to that. This property was not ^ lifted " by a novice. But, as I was saying, oonsidering the amount of travel which will have to be done, and the diligence with which the thieves will cover up their traces as th^ move along, twenty-five thousand may be too small a sum to offer, yet I think it worth while to start with that* 80 we determined upon that figure, as a beginning. Then ihis man, whom nothing escaped which could by any possibility be made to serve as a clue, said— • 'There axe cases in detective ^Jiistory to show that criminals have been detected through peculiaritiee in their appetites. Now, what does this elephant eat, and how much)' ' Well, as to what he eats — ^he will eat anyihing. He will eat a man, he will eat a Bible— he Will eat anything between a man and a Bible.' ' Qood — ^very good indeed, but too generaL Details are necessary — details are the only valuaUe things in our trade. Tory well — as to men. At one meal-"or, if you prefer, during one day — ^how many men wi]l he eat^ if fresh t ' ' He would not care whether they were fresh or not ; at a single meal he would eat five ordinary men*' * Y&py good; five men; we will put that down. What nationalities would he prefer t ' * He Is indifferent about nationalitieB. He prefeis a» yiaintancee, but \j not pr^udiced against strangers.' TMB STOLEN WMITB BLBPMANT. :'man k he goes aU thief, was not >ringthe liligenoe as thej la Bum ginning, by any iw that in their nd how 7* Be lything ola are tradOi prefeTi ot; at What ^Yery good. Now as to Biblee. How many would he eat at a meal t ' ' He would eat an. entire edition.' 'It ia hardly anocinot enough. Do yon mean the ordi* naiy oetavo, or the fiunily iUuetiAted t ' * I think he would beindi£(iBrent toillustrationa; tbatis, I think he would not value illustratlona above limple leOter' * No, you do not get my idea. . I i«fer to bulk. The ordinaiy octavo Bible weighs about two pounds and a half while the great quarto with the illustrationa weighs tn or twelve. How many Dor6 Bibles would he eat lit li'lomel t ' 'If you knew this elephant^ yon oould not ask. Ha would take what they Imd.' ' Well, put it in dollars and oents^ then. We must get at it somehow. The Bori oosts a hundred dollars a oopy, Russia leather, bevelled.' ' He would require about fifty thoussnd doUan^ woiitli^ say an edition of five hundred oopies.' ' How, that is more exact. I will put that down. Very well ; he likes men and Bibles ; so fu, so good. What else will he eatt I Want particulars.' ' He will leave Bibles to eat bridksy he will leave bricki to eat bottles, he will leave bottles to eat dothing, he wiU leave clothing to eat cats, he will leave cats to eat oysters^ he will leave oysters to eat ham, he will leave ham to eat sugar, he will leave sugar to eat pie, he will leave pie to eat potatoes, he will leave potatoes to eat bran, he will leave bran to eat hay, he will leave hay to eat oats, he will leave oats to eat rice^ Ibr he was mainly raised on it. There if B TMS BTOLBN WHITS BLSPHANT. nothing wh«t0?«r that he will not eat but European hnttari and he would eat that if he oonld taste it.' ' Yery good. Qeuenl quantily at a meal— ^eay about * < WeQ, anywhere from a quarter to half a ton.' ' Ajid he drinks * < Everything that is ilnid. Milk, water, whisky, juiolaases, castor oil, camphene, oarbolio aoid — ^it is no use to go into particulars ; whatever fluid ooouis to yoa set it down. He will drink anything that is fluid, ezoept Euro- pean coffee.' 'Yeiygood. As to quantity t ' 'Put it down five to fifteen barrels— his thirst yaries; his other appetites do not/ ' These things are unusual. They ought to fomish quits good dues toward tracing him.' He touched the belL^ ' ' , ' * Alario, summon Oaptain Bums.' Bums appeared. Inspector Blunt unfolded the whole matter to him, detail by detail. Then he said in the clear, decisive tones of a man whose plans are dearly defined in his head, and who is accustomed to command — * Captain Bums, detail Detectives Jones, Davis, Halsey, Bates, and Hackett to shadow the dephant.' •Yes, sir.' * Detail Detectives Moses, Dakin, Murphy, Bogers, Tupper, Higgins, and Bartholomew to shadow the thieves.' 'Yes, sir.' * Place to strong guard — a guard of thirty picked men, with a relief of thixty-H>ver the place Ihim whence -^e elephant was stolen, to keep strict watch there iiight and TME StOZSN WmtB BLmBANT. day, and allow none to approaeb— «ioept r e portwi withocl writfeen anihoiily from midJ 'Plaoe detoodTW in plain doUiea in the lailwaj, stoam- ■bip^ and feny di&fibia, and upon all roadwaji loading oat of Jeraey Oify, with orders to ■O Mw h all snspioioiis peraona.' •Yoi^alr.' 'Funiiah all tluse men with photograph and aooom- panying doBoription of the elqphant^ and^initmot them to search all trains and outgoing ftny-boats and other tobbsIs.* •Yes, sir/ * If the elephnnt should be found, let him be seised, and the information forwsrded to me by telc^praph.' < Yes, sir.' 'Let' me be informed at onoe if any dues should be foond— footprints of the animal, or anything of that kind.' <ZeB,ar.' * Get an <nder oommanding the harbour polioe to paHtd the frontages Tigilsntly.' *Yes,8ir.' 'Beqiateh deteotiTas in plain dothes over all the rail- ways, north as for as Canada, west as for as Ohio, K>uth as fitf as Washington.' •Yes, sir.' ' Place experts in all the telegraph offices to listen to afl messages ; and let them require that all cipher deqiatches te interpreted to them.' •Yes, sir.' < Let all these things be done with the utmost sserscgr-^ Bund, the most impenetraUe secraoy*' A. 10 TWB STOLBN WmtE BLBPBANT. •T«i, iir/ * Beport to me promptly at the ufaal ham^ *Ye8>0ir. ^ •Gol* «YeB, dr.' Hewasgonei. Inspector Blant was silent and thoughtful a momect; while the fire in his ejre oooled down and faded out. Then he turned to me and said in a pladd Toioe-^ 'I am not given to boasting, it is not my habit; but— we shall find the elephant.' I shook him warmly by the hand and thanked him ; and Ifdt my thaiiks, too. The ^ore I had seen of the man the more I liked him, and the more I ac^mired and marvelled over the mysterious wonders of his pi .ifession. Then we parted for the night, and I went home with a &r happiev heart than I had carried with me to his offioOi XL Next morning it was all in the newspapers, in the minu- test detail. It even had additions — consisting of Detective This, Detective That, and Detective The Other^s « Theory ' as to how the robbery was done, who the robbers were, and whither th^ had flown with their booty. There were eleven of these theories, and they covered all the possibilitiea; and this single £act shows what independent thinkers dfeteo- tives are. No two theories were alike, or even much r» ■embled each other, save in one striking particular, and ia TMB arOLBN WHITE SLMPHANT. U khfttonoftUtbadeTeniheGiietwfroabflolatdj agreed, lliat wafly that •!thoi]gli the fear of my building waa torn out and the dnljdoor remained looked, the elephant had not been re* mored through the rent^ bat bj some other (midiacoyered) outlet. All agreed that the robberi had made that rent only to mislead the detectiTes. That never would hava ocourred to me or to any other layman, perhaps, but it had not deoeiyed the detecUves for a moment Thus, what I had supposed was the only thing that had no mysteiy about it was in fiust the very thing I had gone furthest astray in. The eleven theories all named the supposed robbers, but no two named the same robbers ; the total number of suspected persons was thirfy-seyen. The various newspaper accounts all dosed with the most important opinion of all — ^that ol Chief Inspector Hunt A portknn of this statement read at follows— 'The 4ihief knows who the two principals are, namelyi «Briok" J>\xStf and <<Bed" McFadden. Ten days before the robbery was achieved he was already aware that it was to be attempted, and had quietly proceeded to shadow these two noted villains; but unfortunately on the night in quee* tion their track was lost, and before it could be found again the bird was flown — ^that is, the elephant. * Du% and McFadden are the boldest scoundrels in the profession; the chief has reason for believing that they are the men who stole the stove out of the detective head* quAiiers on a bitter night last winter — in consequence of whidi the ohief and every detective were in the hands of the physicians before morning, some with froien feet^ othen with froaen fingers, ears, and other members.' li TBB STOLSN WSITS WLSPBAHT. WheiQ I read the fint half of that I was more afltonlshed tiian fver at the wonderful iagadtj of this strange man. He not onlj saw ^veiything in the present with a dear eye, imt even the fi ti!r9 oovld not be hidden from him. I was soon at his offioe, and said I conld not help wishing he had had those men arrested, and so prevented the trouble ar^ loss; but his i^lj was simple and unanswerable— ' It is not our proTinoe to prevent crime, but to punish it. We cannot punish it until it is committed.' I remarked that the secrecy with which we had begun had been marred by the newspapers ; not only all our fiusta bat all our plans and purposes had been revealed ; even all the suspected persons had been named ; these would doi^btlesi disguise themselves now, or go into hiding. ' Let them. They will find that when I am ^!9BAy foi them, my hand will descend upon thciu, in inei? secret places, as unerringly as the hand of &te. As to the news- papers, we muH keep in with them. Fame^ reputation, constant public mention — ^these are the detectiveV bread and butter. He mwj publish his fiiots, else he waU be supposed to have noue ; he must publish his theory, iw nothing is so strange or striking as a detective's theory, or brings him so much wonderittg respect ; we must publish our plaxis, for these the joomals insist upon having, and we could not deny them without offending. We must constantly show the pubUo what we are doing, or they will believe, we are doing nothing. It is much pleasanter to have a newspaper say, ** Inspector Bluni's ingenious and extraordinary theory Is as Ibllows,'' than to have it say some harsh thing, or, worse still, some sarcastic one.' TBB »rCLS2S WMITB JBLSPMAJTr, 'I Md Um force of what yon my. Bat I Dotioed that iii toe, part of your ronuurki in the papers thia moming, yon veraeed to reToal yov opmion upon a certain minor point' ^Teny wealwaysdothat; it haaagood eflbot Beaidei^ 1 bad not formed any opinion on that pointy any way.' I deposited a considerable iom of money with tht inqiector, to meet current eaqpenses, and sat down to wait lor news. We were expecting the telegrams to begin to arrive at any moment now. Meantime I re-read the news- papers and also oar descriptive ciroalar, and observed thai oar $25flQ0 reward seemed to be ofoed only to detectives. I said I thought it ooj^t to be offered to anybody who would oatoh the elephant. The inspector saLd— ' It is the detectives who will find the elephant, henoe the reward will go to the right plaoe. If other people found the animal, it would only be by watching the deteotiveB and taking advantage of dues and i^^dioations stolen from them, and that would entitle the detectives to the reward, after alL The proper office of a reward is to stimulate the men who deliver up their time and their trained sagacities to this sort of work, and not to confer benefits upon chance dtisens who stumble upon a capture without having eamod^ths benefits by -their own merits and labours.' This was reasonable enough, certainly. Now the telo- graphio machine m the comer began to dick, and the lbU,«ri«g d«patoh w« tte reBult- ^ * Flower Statfon, N.T. : 7.80 A.1I. *Have got a dua Found a succession of deep trscks •eroas 9, £urm near bore. Fdlowed them two miles east f u iHM ffTOLBJf wmra eopeant. ; without nralt; think olephaat wiot wwrt. Shall now ■hadow him h* thatdireotkn. 'Darlej*! ono of tho bfr . . on the force/ said tht faofpeotor. 'Weshallhear frcnn him again before lon|^' Telegram Ka 2 camo— - / • Barkn^ N J. : 7.40 A Ji. 'JustanriTed. Glam fiMtory htoken open here during night and eight hundred bottles taken. Only water in large quantity near here is five miles dist^i. Shall strike fbr there. Elephant will be thirsty. Bottles were empty. <Bakbb, De^edtee.* 'That promisei w«iU, too^' said the inspeotor. 'I told yon the creature's appetites would not be bad dues.' Telegram No. 3— < Taylorville, LX : 8.15 A.1L ' A haystack near here disap^i^oared during night. Pro- bably eaton. Haye got a due, and am oft ' HuBBABD^ Detective,* 'How he does move around I' said the inspector. 'I knew we nad a difficult job on hand, but we shall catch him yet' * Flower Station, N.Y. : • AM, ^Siiadowed the tradoei three mil^ westward. Large^ deep, and ragged. Have just met a farmer who says they are not elephant tracks. Says they are holes where he dug up saplings for shade-trees when ground was frozen last winter. Uiye me oraers how to proceed. •DASLM¥,Daeah$,* TMW BTOLXN WMITM MLMFKANT. U '▲hAl ftoonfedaimteof tho thieml The UUng growi mum,* Mid th« impeator. He diotftied the (bUowing tel^grun to Darlej— ^ * Arreat the man end finroe him to neme hie pele. Oon* tfmie to follow the treoke— te the Fedfio^ if neoeenurj, Kext telegnun*- •Ooney Point, Pa. : 8.45 AA *(h» office broken opn here during night and three montha' unpaid gai billa takon. Haye got a due and am eivaj, 4 'Heaveoil' laid tiie inspector, 'would he eat gae biller • Through ignorance — ^yee; but they cannot aupport lift. At leasts unaMdsted.' Now came this exciting telegram^* * Ironville^ N.T. : 9.80 A.M. 'Just arrived. This village in consternation. Elephahl passed through here at five this morning. Some say he went east| some say west, some north, some south^but all say they did not wait to notice particularly. He killed a horse ; have secured a piece of it for a due. Killed it with his trunk; from sityle of blow, liiink he struck it left-handed. From poBitian in which horse lies, think elephant travdied northward along line of Berkley railway. Has four and a half hours' stsrt; but I move on his track at onc& «Hawx8, DOeeihe*' IS fUM araim wextm mlmpmant. I at to wd •Dokmalioiif of Joj. Tb* impeotor wm m nlf-oontointd m a gmtwi image. H« oJmly iouohed hit bell ' Alerio, Mnd Oftptein Banui hera.' Bnrnii^ypeMred. * How nuuiy man are ready for initaiit orden t' 'Ninety-dx^air/ 'Send them north at onoe. Let them oonoentrate along the line of the Berklej road north of IronTiUe/ 'Yea, air/ 'Let them oondnct their moyementa with the utmoat •ecrecy. Aa fiwt aa othera are at liberty, hold them tat orders.' ' •Yea, dr.' 'Ck)l' «Ye«,alr.* Preaently oame another telegram— < Sage Oom«ri^ H.Tl : l<l3a 'Just anived. Elephant passed through here at 8.15. All escaped from the town bat a policeman. Apparently elephant did not strike at poUoeman, but at the lamp-post Qot both. I hftTO secured a portion of the paUoeman a« due. ' BruMM, i>0fod(tw.' ' So the elephant luui turned weatward,' said the impeo- tor. ' However, he will not esaqpe^for my men are scattered all oyer that region.' The next telegram rSV 9T01BN WM2TB RLSBMAHT. If < Jut arrited. YiUage denrtsd, aaoept riok and a^isd. ESflphant paawd through three-qnartfln of an hour ago. Tha anti-temperanoe maaa moating waa in aesa&on; ho pat hia trunk in at * window and washed it ont with water from oiftam. SomofwaUowod it— ainoe dead ; lOTflral drowned. DetectiTefl Oroaa and O'Shanghnearf were pairing throngh town, but going iouth~io miaMd elephant. Whole region ^ for many miles around in terror — ^people flying from theii* homea. Whererer they tvn they meet elephant, and many aMkiUed. < Brant, Deieeiive,' I oould haTe ihed teara, this havoo ao diatreaaed ma But the inspector only said— - 'Tou aee — ^we are dosing in on him. He foela out preeenoe; he has turned eastward again.' Tet frirther troublo^ news waa in store for us. TI10 telegraph brought thi»— 'Hoganport, UI.U. * Just arrived. Elephant passed through half an hour ago^ creating wildest fright and excitement. Elephant ragec^ around streets; two plumbem going by, killed one — other escaped. Regret general ' O'Flahbety, Diieciim.* * Kow h«i is right in the midst of ray men,' said the inspector. ' Nothing can saye him.' A suooeesion oi telegrams came horn detectives who weie ioatlered through New Jersey and Pennsylvania, and who 18 THE STOLEN WSOTB ELEPWANT. were following <aliies oomnstiiig of ravftged htana, fiujtoriet, and SiindajHMshool libraries, with bigL hopea— hopea amounting to oertaintieB, indeed. The inspector aaid*- * I wish I could communicate with them and order them north| but that ia impossibla A detective onlj viaita a telegraph office to send his report ; then he ia off again, and you don't know where to put your hand on him.' Now came this despateh—- < Bridgeport, Ot.: 19.1IL 'Bamum offers rate of j$|4,000 a year for ezduaive privilege of using elephant as travelling advertiedng medium from now till detectives find him. Wants to paste eiroua- posters on him. Desirea immediate answer. ^BoQOB, DeteOive,* ___ ' ^ ' ' ' That ia perfectly abauxd t' I exclaimed. 'Of course it is,' said the inspector. 'Evidently Mr. Bamum, who thinks he is so sharp, does not know me — but I know him.' Then he dictated this answer to the deapatoh— 'Mr. Bamom's offer declined. Make it fflfiOO or nothing. 'CAh^Bluht.' ' There. We shall not have to wait long for an answer, Mr. Bamum is not at home; he is in the telegraph office- it is his way when he has business on hand. Inside of * DoNB.— P. T. Barnum.' |k> interrupted the clicking telegraphio instrument. Befoi« tES aroLEN wmtB itt I Mold make % oomment upon ihis eocferaordinMy epiiode, the following despatoh oarried my tbouc^ti into anotlier and very diatreBBing ohannel^ <Bdlhria,K.T.t ISitO. < Elephant arriTed here from the aoath and pasaed through toward the forest at ILSO, dispernng a funeral on the way, and «iit«m<flhiTig the mourners by two. Oituens fired some small oannon-balls into him, and then fled. Detective Burke and I arrived ten min ites later, from the north, but mistook some ezoavations for foo^bprints, and so lost i good deal of time ; but at last we struck the right trail and Sol- lowed it to the woods. We then got down on our hands and knees and continued to keep a sharp eye on the track, and so shadowed it into the brush. Burke was in advance. UnfOTtunately the animal had stopped to rest; therefore, Burke having .his head down, intent upon the track, butted up against the elephant's hind legs before he was aware of his vicinity. Burke instantly rose to his feet^ seized the tail, and ezdaimed joyfblly, " I claim the re—-" but got no frirther, for a, single blow of the huge trunk laid the brave fellow's fragments low in death. I fled rearward, and the elephant turned and shadowed me to the edge of the wood, making tremendous speed, and I should inevitably have been lost^ but that^the remains of the funeral providen- tially intervened again and diverted his attention. I have just learned that nothing of that funeral is no^ -eft ; but this is no loss, for there is an abundance of material for another. Meantime the elephant has disappeared again. ' *HuLB0<wi7, DdlMltee.* Tss sTOLSir wsm slspmant. We heard no news except from the diligent and confident detectives loattered aboat New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Dela- ware,, and Virginia — ^who were aU following fresh and en-, couniging dues — ^nntil shortly after 2 p.m., when ihii telegram came — . * Baxter Centre, 9.16. < Elephant been here, plastered over with circus-bills, and broke up a revival, striking down and damaging many who were on the point of entering upon a better life. Citizens penned him up, and established a guard. When Detective Brown and I arrived, some time after, we entered ^closure and proceeded to identify elephant by photograph and de- scHption. All marks tallied exactly except one^ which we could not see— -the boil-scar under armpit. To make sure, Brown crept under to look, and was immediately brained — that is, head crushed and destroyed, though nothing issued from d^bris^ All fled ; so did elephant, striking right and left with much effect. Has eact^ied, but left bold blood- tradL from cannon-wounds. Rediscovery certain. He broke southward through a dense forest. * Bbbnt, Detective* That was the last telegram. At nightfidl a fog shut down which was so dense that oljects but three feet away could not be discerned. This lasted all night. The ferry twacs and even the omnibuses had to stop running. i v ofident , Ddft- md m- D this I, 9.15. illfly Mid jiy who Citizens letective Qdotiire and d»- rhicbwe nkesore, brained ;ht and d blood- le broke Mtfitw/ fog shat wftaway eferfj TBS 8T0LB1I WBITB StSPHAirT. I NiXT momiiig the pajien were aafiill of deteotlTB theoriei M before; they had all our tzagio &ctB in detail also, and a great many more which they had received fiom their tele* graphic oorrespondentB. Column after column was occupied, a third of ite way down, with glaring head-lines, whldi it made my heart sick to read. Their general tone was like Ai*— *Ths WHFnsEiiBPHANT atLabobI Hb motbb upon hib Fatal Mabch t Wholb Yillagss dbrebtbd bt thbir *FniOH1vSTRI0KBN OoCfUPANTS 1 PaLB TbBBOB QOBS BBFOBB Him, Dbath and Dbyastation follow aftbb! After THESE, THB' BbtBOTIYES. BaBNB DESTBOTED, FaOTOBIES 0UT> TED, Habybsts dbvoubed, Pubuo Assbkblaobs dispbbsbd, accompanied bt Scenes of Caiwage impossible to dbscbibbI Theories of thibtt-fovb of the most distinguished DETEOnYBS on THE FOBCB t ThEOBT OF ChIBF BlUNT 1 ' ' There r said Inspector Blunt, almost betrayed into excitement, 'this is magnificent I This is the greatest windfall that any detectiye organisation ever had. The fame of it will travel to the ends of the earth, and endure to the end of time, and my name with it.' ' But there was no joy for ma I fidt as if I had com- mitted aU ^oee red crimes, and that the elephant was only my irresponsible agent. And how the list had grown 1 In one place he had 'into^ered with an election and killed five lepeateis.' He had followed this act with the dsrtruotkii IS TSB STOLEN WMITB BIJSPMANT. Ait two poor fSellowB, named ODonohiio and McFlannigMi, who had 'found a refoge in the home of the oppraaMd of all lands only the day before, and were in the act of ezorciiuig for the font time the noble right of American citiaens at the poUi^ when stricken down by the relentless hand of the Soouige of Siam/ In another, he had ' foond a craay sensii^ tion-pfeacher preparing his next season's heroic attacks on the dance, the theatre, and other things which can't strike back, and had stepped nn him.' And in still another place he had ' killed a lightning-rod agent.' And so the list went on, growing redder and redder, and more and more heart- breaking. Sixty persons had been killed, and |nro hundred » and forfy wounded. All the aocoonts bore just testimony to the activity and devotion of the detectives, and all dosed with^the remark that ' three hundred thousand citizens and four detectives saw the dread creature, and two of the latt^ he destroyed.' I dreaded to hear the telegraphic instmment begin to cUck again. By-and-by the messages began to pour in, but I was hapfnly disappointed in their nature. It was soon apparent that all trace of the elephant was lost. The fog had enabled him to search out a good hiding-plaoe unobserved. Telegrams from the most absurdly distant points reported that a dim vast riiasis had been glimpsed there through the fog at such and such an hour, and was 'undoubtedly the elephant.' This dim vast mass had been glimpsed in Kew Haven, in Kew Jersey, in Pennsylvania, in interior New York, in Brooklyn, jmd even in the city of Kew York itself 1 But in all cases the dim vast mass had vanished quickly and left BO tnoe. Every detective of the laige force scattered I ' iijJll'M TMB STOLEN WHITS BLSPHANT. ower this huge extent of oountxy sent his bourl j report. Mid each and uyery one of them had a dv^ and was shadowing gomething, and was hot upon the heels of it. Bat the day passed without other resull The nest day the stuneii The nest Jusij the same. The newspaper reports began to grpw monotonoDS with faots that amounted to nothing, dues which led to nothing, and theories which had nearly exhausted the elements which surprise and delight and dazde. By advice of the inspector I doubled the reward. Four more dull days followed. Then came a bitter bk ^ to the poor, hard-working deteotiTes — the Journalists de- clined to print their theories, and coldly said, ' Give us a test.' Two weeks after the elephant's disappearance I raised the reward to j$|75,0OO by the inspector's adTioe. It was a great sum, but I felt that I would rather sacrifice my whole pri- vate fortune than lose my credit with my Qovemmenti Kow that the detectives were in adversity, the newspapers turned upon them, and began to fling the most stinging sarcasms at them. This gave the minstrels an idea, and they dressed tiiemselves as detectives and hunted the elephant on the stage in the most extravagant way. The caricaturists made jdctures cf detectives scanning the country with spy-glasses, while the elephant^ at their backs, stole apples out of their pockets. And they made all sorts of ridiculous pictures of the detectiv9 badge — yon have seen that badge printed in gold on the back of detective ncivels, no doubt — ^it is a wide- staring eye, with the legend, * Wk Kbvib fiunr/ When TME STOLEN WHITE ElEPSANT. i datecttveB oalled for & ^liink, the would-be fluietiouB bei^ keeper reetuTected an obeolete form of ezpreesioii, and said, 'Will you have an eye-opener t ' All the air was thick with Haroanmn. But there was one man who moved oalm, untouched, unaffected through it all. It was that heart of oak, the Chief Inspector. His brave eye never drooped, his serene confidence never wavered. He always said — * Let them rail on ; he laughs best who laughs last.' My admiration for the man grew into a species of wor- ship. I was at his side always. His oflEice had become a». unpleasant place to me, and now became daily more and more so. Tet if he could endure it I meant to do so alto; at least, as long as I could. So I came regularly, and stayed — ^the only outsider, who seemed to be capable of it. Every- body wondered how I could ; and often it seemed to me that I must desert, but at such times I looked into that calm and apparently unconscious face, and held my ground. About three weeks after the elephant's disappearsnoe I was about to say, one morning, that I should ham to strike my colours and retire, when the great detective arrested the thought by proposing one more superb and masterly move. This was to compromise with the robbers. The fertility of this man's invention exceeded anything I have ever seen, and I have had a wide intercourse with the world's finest minds. He said he was confident he could compromise for ^100,000 and recover the elephant. I said I believed I could scrape the amount together ; but what would become . of the poor detectives who had worked so foithfullyl He nAd— ■•Vv TBS aroLss wmrs slbpsaht. h * In oompromifles they always get balfl' . Thi removed my only objeotioLu So the iniapector wrote two note% in this form~^— * Bear Madam, — Your husband oan make a laige eum of money (and be entirely protected from the law) by making an immediate appointment with me. He Bent one of these by his confidential messenger to the 'reputed wife' of Brick Jhiffy, and the other to the reputed wifs of Red MoFadden. Within the hour these offensiTe answers came >— <YeOwldlbol: brick MoDufiys bin ded 2 yere. 'Bbidqbt Mahonit/ *Ohief Bat,— Bed MoFadden is hung and in heving 18 month. Any Ass but a detective knose that. ' Mabt (XHoouGAir.' 'I had long suspected these £Msts,' said the inspector; * this testimony proves the unerring accuracy of my instinot' The moment one resource failed him he was ready with another. Hie immediately wrote an advertjlsement for the morning papefs, and I kept a copy of it — < A.— zwbW. 242 N. l^nd— &328wmlg. Otpo,—, 2 m ! ogw. Mum.' He said that if the thief was alive this would bring him to the usual rendecvous. He further explained that the oBoal rendecvous was a plaoe where all business affiurs TBB STOLBN WHITS BLBPMANT. S be t ween deteetiyee and oriminali were oondwsted. Thia meetiiig would take plaoe at twelve the next night We oonld do nothing till then, and I loet no time in getting out of the oflSoe, z^A was gratefhl indeed for the priyil^ge. ▲t eleren the next night I brought $100,000 in bank- notes and put them into the chiefs hands^ and shortly after- ward he took his leave^ with the braye old undicimed ooniidenoe in his eye. An almost intolerable hour dragged to a dose : then I heard his welcome tread, and rose gasping and tottered to meet him. How his fine eyes flamed witli triumph! He said — ' We've oompromised I The jokers will sing a different tune to-morrow I Follow me 1 ' He took a lighted candle and strode down into the vast vaulted basement where sixty detectives always slept^ and where a score were now playing cards to while thp time. I followed dose after him. He walked swiftly down to the dim remote end of the place, and just as I succumbed to the pangs of suffocation and was swooning away he stumbled and fdl over the outlying members of a mighty object, and I heard him exclaim as he went dovrn — 'Our noble profession is vindicated. Here is your depfaantl' I was carri^ to the Office above and restored with carbolic add. The whole detective force swarmed is, and such another season of triumphant rejoicing epsued as I had never witnessed before. The reporters were called, baskets of champagne were opened, toasts were drunk, the hand* shakings and congratulations were continuous and enthu- ^ TBS SiTOZBN WEJTJB ELSPBANT. WS ■bstiOi Katiirally the chief waa the hero of the hour, and hia happineai waa ao oomplete and had been ao patiently and worthily and brayelj won that it made me happy to ae^ it, thongh I atood there a homeleae beggar, my prioeleaa charge dead, and my poaition in my coontiya service loat to me through what would alwaya aeem my fatally oareleaa execution of a great truat Many an eloquent eye teatified ita deep admiration for the chief, and many a detectiTe^a Toice murmured, ' Look at him— juat the king of the foo fenion— only give him a due, it'a all he wants, and there ain't anything hid that he can't find.' The dividing of the j((50,000 made great pleasure; when it waa finiahed the chief made a little speech while he put hia ahare in hia pockety in which he said, ' Ei^joy it^ boys, for you've earned it; and more than that— you've earned fbr the detective profession undying fame,' A telegram arrived, which read — 'Monroe, Hioh.: 10 PJL ' Firat time I've struck a telegraph o£Bce in over threo weefak Have followed those footprints, horseback, through the woods, a thousand miles to here, and they get atronger and bigger and freaher every day. Don't worry — ^inside of (mother week 111 have the elephant. This is ''.sad sure. < Dablet, Beieoiwe,' The chief ordered three cheers for ' Darley, one of the finest minds on the force,' and then commanded that he be telegraphed to come home and receive his share of the leward* So ended that marvelloua episode of the stolen elephant TBS BTOLSN WBITB SLSPBANT, V The newspapen w«re pletflant with pndies ohm iraors^ tht Dfut day, with one contemptible ezoeptioii. This sheet said, 'Qraat is the deteotiTe J He may be a little slow in finding a little thing like a mislaid elephant — he may hunt him all day and sleep with his zottbg carcase all night for three weeks, but he will find him at hist~if he can get the man who mislaid him to show him the place 1 ' Poor Hassan was lost to me Tor ever. The cannon-shots had wounded him fiEitally. He had «rept to that unfriendly place in the fog ; and there, surrounded by his enemies and in constant danger of detection, he had wasted away with hunger and suffering till death gave him peace. The compromise cost me ^100,000; my detective ex- penses were ;((42,000 more; I neyer applied for a place again under my Govenmient; I am a mined man and a wanderer in tLie earth — but my admiration fpir that man, whom 1 belieTe to be the greatest detective the world hpii ever produced^ remains undimmed to this day, and wiU 90 remain unto the end. SOME RAMBLING NOTES OF AN IDLE EXCURSION. / All the journeyings I had aver done had been purely m the way of businefls. The pleasant May weather aug^eeted a noTelfy, namely, a trip for pure reoreaiion, the bread-and- batter element l«ft out. The KoTerend said he would go» too : a good man, one of the best of men^ although a dergy- man. By eleven at night we were in Kew Haven and on board the New York boat. We bought our tiokete, and then went wandering around, he^ and there, in the solid comfort of being free and idle, and of putting distance between oursehres and the mails and telegraphs. After a while X went to my state-room and undressed, but the night was too enticing for bed. We were moving down the bay now, aiid it was pleasant to stand at the window and take the cool night-breeze and watoh the gliding lights on shore. Presently two elderly men sat down under that window and began a conversation. Their talk was properly no business of mine, yet I was feeling friendly toward the world and willing to be entertained. I soon gathered that they were farothen^ that they were lW>m a tOMJi RAMBUVQ NOTSB Of iidaU Oonnaoticat village, and that tht mattar in hand oon- oemed the oameterj. Said one— < Now, John, we talked it all over amongst onrsalTei, and this ia what we've done. You Me, everybody waa a- movin' from the old buryin' ground, and our folks was most about left to theirselves, as you may say. They was crowded, too, as yon know ; lot wa'n't big enough in the first place; and last year, when Seth's wife died, we oouldnt hardly tuck her in. She sort o' overlaid Deacon Shorb's lot» and he soured on her, so to speak, and on the rest of us, too. 80 we talked it over, and I was for a lay-out in the new simitery on the hilL They waVt unwilling, if it was cheap. Well, the two best and biggest plots was No. 6 and No. 9 — both of a siaa; nice comfortable room for twenty-six— twenty-six iiill-growns, that is; but you reckon in children and other shorts, and strike an overage, and I should 8ay you might lay in thirty, or may-be thirty-two or three, pretty genteel — ^no crowdin' to signify.' < That's a plenty, William. Which one did you buy t ' ' Well, I'm a-comin' to that, ^ >lin. Tou see. No. 8 wcm thirteen dollars. No. 9 fourteen- * < I see. So's't you took No. 8.' < Tou wait. I took No. 9. And I'll tell you for why. In the first place. Deacon Shorb wanted it. Well, after the way he'd gone on about Seth's wife overlappin' his prem'ses, I'd 'a' beat him out of that No. 9 if I'd 'a' had to stand two dollars extra, let alone one. That's the way I felt about it. Says I, what's a dollar, any way 1 life's on'y a pilgrimage, says I ; we ain't here for good, and we can't take it with us, says I. Bo I just dumped it down, knowin' the Lord don*t AN IDLE BXCUBBION. Wk waikpt a good dMd to go for nothin', and oallatlii' to tako h ottt o^ fomebody in the amne o' tndo. Thai tlMro wm mother reMon, John. No. 9'i a long way iho handiait lot in the nmitery, and the likeUeit for ntiiation. It layi right on to|^ of a knoll in the dead centre of the bnryin' groond; and yon oan see Millport from there, and Traoy*!, and Ho^^r Mount, and a raft o^ &mi8, and so on. There eint no better outlook from a bnryin' plot in the State. Si TTiggina mjB BO, and I reckon he ought to know. Well, end that ain't all 'Oourse Shorb had to take No. 8; wa'nt no help for't. Now No. 8 jinee on to No. 9, but it'c on the •lope of the hUl, and every time it raine itll eoak right down on to the Shorbs. Si Higgine says 't when the deacon's time comee he better take oat fire and marine insurance both on his remaina.' Here there was the sound of a low, placid, duplicate chuckle of appreciation and flatisfiiustion. ' Now, John, here's a little rough draft of the ground that I've made on a piece of paper. TJp here in the leli- hand comer we've bunched the departed ; took them from the old grave-yard and stowed them one along side o' t'other ona first-come-first-served pianino partialities, with Qran'ther Jones for a starter, on'y because it happened so, and windin' up indiscriminate with Seth's twins. A little crowded towards the end of the lay-out, may be^ but we reckoned *% wa'n't best to scatter the twins. Well, next comes the livin*. Here, where it's marked A, we^re goin' to put Mariar and her fSunily, whei^ they're called ; B, that's for Brother Hosea and his^n ; 0, Calvin and tribe. What's left is these two lots here— just the gem of the whole patch for r 81 80MS RAMBLING NOTES OF genenl style and outlook ; they're for me and my folks, ani yon and youm. Which of them would you mther be burieil far ' I swan youVe took me mighty unexpected, William I It flort of started the shivers. Fact is, I was thinkin' so busy about makin' things comfortable for the others, I~ hadn't thought about being buried m3rself.' ^ 'life's on'y a fleetin' show, John, as the sayin' i& We've all got to go, sooner or later. To go with a clean record's the main tlung. Fact is, it's the on'y thing worth strivin' for, John.' 'Tes, that's so, William, that's so; there aint no getting around it. Which of these lots would you reoom* mendr 'Well, it depends, John. Are you particular about outlookt' * I don't say I am, William ; I don't say I ain't. Reely, I don't know. But mainly, I reckon, I'd set store by a south exposure.' < That's easy fixed, John. They're both south exposure. They take the sun, and the Shorbs get the shade.' * How about sile, William t ' ' D's a sandy sile, E's mostly loom.' < You may gimme E, then, William ; a sandy sile caves in, more or less, and costs for repairs.' - * All right ; set your name down here, John, under E. Now, if you don't mind paying me your share of the four- teen dollars, John, while we're on the business, everything's 6xed.' After some higgling and sharp bargaining the money was AN WLB EXCURSION. paid, and John bade his brother good-night and took his leave. There was nlenoe for some moments; then a soft chuckle wdled up from the lonely William, and he mattered : <I dedare for't, if I haven't made a mistake t It's D thafs mostly loom, not £. And John's booked for a sandy sile, after alL' There was another soft chuckle, and William de|*.\rted to his rest^ also. The next day, in New York, was a hot one. Still we mana^;ed to get more or less entertainment out of it. To- ward the middle of the afternoon we arrived on board the staunch steamship BemrndOf with bag and baggage, and hunted for a shady plaoe. It was biasing summer weather, until we were half way down the harbour. Then I buttoned my ooat dosely ; half an hour later I put on a spring over- coat and buttoned that. As we passed the light-ship I added an ulster, and tied a handkerchief around the collar to hxAA it snug to my neck. So rapidly had the summer gone and winter come again ! By nightfSedl we were far out at sea, with no land in sight No telegrams could come here, no letters, no news. This was an uplifting thought. It was still more uplifting to reflect that the millions of harassed people on shore behind us were suffering just as usual. The next day brought us into the midst, of the Atlantic solitudeB>-out of smoke^soloared soundings into fftthomless deep blue ; no ships visible anywhere over the wide ocean ; no company but Mother Carey's diickens wheeling, darting, skimming the waves in the sun. There were some seafaring men among the pasBengers^ and conversation drifted into p 84 aOMJB RAMBLING NOTES OF matteni oonoerniiig ahipB and sailors. One said that ' trcit as the needle to the pole ' waa a bad figure, since the needle seldom pointed to the pole. He said a ship's compass wai not £Edthful to any particalar point, but was the most fickle and treacherous^ of the servants of man. It waa for evei changing. It changed every day in the year ; consequently the amount of the daily variation had to be ciphered out and allowance made for it/ else the mariner would go utterly astray. Another said there was a vast fortune waiting for the genius who should invent a compass that would not be affected by the local influences of an iron ship. He said there waa only one creature more fickle tlian a wooden ship's compass, und that waa the compass of an iron ship. Then came reference to the well-known fact that as experienced mariner can look at the compass of a new iron vessel, thousands of miles from her birthplace, and tell which way her head was pointing when she waa in process ofbuildiDg. ) Now an ancient wluddHihip master fell to talking about the sort of crews they used to have in his early days. Said he— * Sometimes we'd ha\e a batch of college students. Queer lot. Ignorant 1 Why, they didn't know the cat- heads from the main brace. But if you took them for foola you'd get bit, sure. They'd leam more in a month than another man would in a year. We had one, once, in the diary Ann, that came aboard with gold spectacles on. And besides, he was rigged out from main truck to keelson in the nobbiest clothes that ever saw a fo'oastle. He bad a chest full, toe: doakB, and broadcloth coats, and velvet vests: everything sweU, you know ; and didn't the salt water fix AX IDLE EXCURSION, 85 — thttn out for himt I guess not 1 Well, going to sea, the mate told him to go aloft and help shake out the fore* io^'gallantsX IJp he shins to the foretop, with his speotaoles on, and In a minute down he oomes again, looking insulted. 8ays the mate, ''What did you oome down fort" Says the ohi^, ** Fr'aps you didn't notice that there ain't any ladders aho^e thera" Tou see we hadn't any shrouds above the foretop. The men bursted out in a laugh such as I guess you never heard the like of. Next night, which was dark and rainy, the mate ordered this chap to go aloft about something, and Vm dummed If he didn't start up with an umbrella and a lantern 1 But no matter; he made a mighty good sailor before the voyage was done^ and we had to hunt up something else to laugh at. Tears afterwards, when I had forgot all about him, I comes into Boston, mate of a shi^, and was loafing around town with the second mate, and it so happened that we stepped into the Bevere House, thinking may be we would chance the salt-horse in that big dining-room for a flyer, as the boys say. Some fellows were talking just at our elbow, and one says, ''Yonder's the new governor of Massachusetts— at that table over there, with the ladies.' We took a good look, my mate and I, for we hadn't either of us ever seen a governor before. I looked and looked at that &oe, and then all of a sudden it popped on mel But I didn't give any sign. Says I, '' Mate, I've a notion to go over and shake hands with him." Says he^ "' I think I see you doing it, Tom." Says I, '< Mate, I'm a-going to do it." Says he, «0h, yes, I guess so ! May be you don't want to bet you will^ Tom t " Says I, <' I don't mind going a Y on it, mate." Says he^ SOME IRAMBLINO HOTSS OF ** Put it up." ** Up she goes," says I, planking the cash. This surprised him. But he covered it, and says, pretty saroastioy ''Hadn't you better take your grub with the governor and the ladies, Tom!" Says I, "Upon second thoughts, I will." Says he, ** Well, Tom, you are a dum fool" Says I, '' May be I am, may be I ain*t ; but the main question is, do you want to risk two and a half that I wont do it I" "Make it a V," says he. "Done," says I. I started, him argiggling and slapidng his hand on his thigh, he felt so good. I went over there and leaned my knuckles on the table a minute and looked the governor in the faoe^ and says I, " Mister Gardner, don't you know me t " He stared, and I stared, and he stared. Then all of a sudden he sings out, " Tom Bowling, by the holy poker 1 Ladies, it's old Tom Bowling, that you've heard me talk about— ^ shipmate of mine in the Mary Ann," He rose up and shook hands with me ever so hearty — I sort of glanced around and took a realising sense of my mate's saucer eyes — and then says the governor, " Plant yourself, Tom, plant your> self; you <^an't cat your anchor again till you've had a feed with me and the ladies 1 "- .1 planted myself alongside the governor, and cfinted my eye around towards my mate. Well, sir, his deadlights were bugged out like tompions ; and his mouth stood that wide open that you could have laid a ham in it witiiout him noticing it.' There was great applause at the conclusion of the old captain's story; then^ alter a moment's silence, a grave, pale young man 8aid — ' Had you ever met the governor before t ' The old reptain looked steadily at this inquirer a whiles AN IDLE JSXCUSaiON, «r and then got up and walked aft without making any reply* One paspenger after another stole a furtive glance at the inquirer, hut failed to make him out, and so gave him up It took some little work to get the talk-machinery to running smoothlv again after this derangement ; hut at length a con- versation sprang up about that important and jealously guarded instrument, a ship*s time-keeper, its exceeding delicate accuracy, and the wreck and destruction that have sometimesvresulted from its varying a few seemingly trifling moments from the true time ; then, in due course, my com- rade, the Beverend, got off on a yani| with a fair wind and everything drawing. It was a true story, too — about Captain Rounceville's shipwreck — true in every detaU. It was to this effect : — Captain Rounceville's vessel was lost in mid- Atlantic, and likewise his wife and his two little childi^en. Captain Rounceville and seven seamen escaped witb life, but with little else. A small, rudely constructed raft was to be their home for eight days. They had neither provisions nor water. They had scarcely any clothing; no one had a coat but the captain. This coat was changing hands all the time, for the weather was very cold* Whenever a man became exhausted with the cold, they put the coat on Mm and laid him down between two shipmates -until the garment and their bodies had wanned life into him again. Among the sail(»rB was a Portuguese who knew no English. He seemed to have no thought of his own calamity, but was concerned only about the captain's bitter loss of wife and children. By day, he would look his dumb compassion in the captain's boe; and by night, in the darkncuB and the driving spray and BOMB RAMBLING NOTES OF rain, he would seek out the captain and try to oomfort him with caressing pats on the shoulder. One day, when hunger and thurst were making their sure inroads upon the men's strength and spiritB, a floating barrel was seen at a distance. It seemed a great find, for doubtless it contained food of some sort A brave fellow swam to it, and after long and exhausting effort got it to the raft. It was eagerly opened. It was a banel <^ magnesia 1 On the fifth day an onion was spied. A Bailor swam off and got it. vAlthough perishing with hanger, he brought it in its integrity and put it into the captain's hand. The history of the sea teaches that among starving, shipwrecked men selfishnesB is rare, and a wonder^som^eUing ma, ^nimity the rule. The onion was equally divided into eight parts, and eaten with deep thanks- givings. On the eighth day a distant ship was sighted. Attempts were made to hoist an oar, with Captain Bounoe- ville's cnat on it for a signal. There were many failures, for the men were but skeletons now, and strengthless. At last success was achieved, but the signal brooght no help. The ship faded out of sight and left despair behind her. By-and- by another ship appeared, and passed so near that the cast- aways, every eye eloquent with gratitude, made ready to welcome the boat that would be sent to save them. But this ship also drove on, and left tbese men staring their un- utterable surprise and dismay into each other's ashen faces. Late in the day, still another ship came up out of the distance, but the men noted with a pang that her course was one which would not bring her noarer. Their remnant of life was nearly spent ; their lips and tongues were swollen^ parched, cracked with eight dayi^ thirst; their bodies m Wi—i — Mi i' i rt MM AN IDLB EXCURSION, gtaryed ; and here wm their last chance gliding relentlessly from them; they would not be alive when the neart» snnroee. For a day or two past the men had lost their Toices, but now Captain Bounoerille whispered, < Let us pray/ The Portu ^ gaese patted him on the shoulder in sign of deep f4>provaL All knelt at the base of the oar that was waving the signal- coat aloft, and bowed theirheads. Thesea was tossing; the •un rested^ a red, rayless disk, on the sea-line in the west. When the men presently raised their heads they would have roared a hallelujah if they had had a voice : the ship's sails lay wrinkled and flapping against her masts, she was. going about I Here was rescue at last, and in the very last instant of time that was left for it. No, not rescue yet — only th« imminent prospect of it. The red disk sank under the sea and darkness blotted out the ship. By-cuad-by came a plea- sant sound— oars moving in a boat's rowlocks. Nearer it came, and nearer — ^within thirty stepe, but nothing visible. Then a deep voice: 'Hol-2o/' The castaways could not answer; their swollen tongues reftised voice. The boat skirted round and round the raft, started away — the agcny of it 1 — ^returned, rested the oars, dose at hand, listening, uo doubt. The deep voice again: 'Hol-i^/ Where are y% shipmates'' Gaptain Bounoeville whispered to his men, saying : < Whisper your beot^ boys I now — all at once.' So they sent out an eightfold whisper in hoaise concert: <Here I ' There was life in it if it succeeded : death if H fidled. ^iber that supreme moment Captain Eouncevilla was conscious of nothing until he came to himself on board the saving ship. Said the Reverend, concluding — VThere was one little moment of time in which that raft 10 80MB RAMBLING NOTES OF could be vifdhle from that ship, and oxdy one. If that one little fleeting moment had pacied unfrnitftil, those men'a doom was sealed. As dose as that does Ood shaye events foreordained from the beginning of the world. When the Sim reached the water's edge that day, the captain of that ship was sitting on deck reading his prayer-bode The book fell ; he stooped to pick it np, and happened to glance at the sun. In that instant that fiuM>£r raft appeared for a second against the red disk, its needle-like oar and diminutive signal, cut sharp and black against the bright surface, and in the next instant was thrust away into the dusk again. But that ship, that captain, and that pf^gnant instant had had their work appointed for them in the dawn of time, and could not fiul of the performance. The chronometer of Qod never errs I * There was deep, thoughtful sUence for some momentii Then the grave, pale yoimg man said, 'What is the chronometer of Qod t ' At dinner, m o'clock, the same people assembled whom we had talked with on deck and seen at luncheon and break&st this second day out, and at dinner the evening before. That is to say, three journeying ship-masters, a Boston merchant^ and a returning Bermudian who had been absent from his Bermuda thirteen years ; these sat on the starboard side. On the port side sat the Reverend in the seat of honour : the pale young man next to him ; I next ; next to me an aged Bermudian, returning to his aunny islands after an AN IDLE JBXCVnSION. a ftbtoanee of twejttywaeyen yean. Of course our captain was at the head of the table, the purser at t]|e foot of it. A small oompany, but small companies are pleasantest. No rsoks upon the table ; the sky cloudless, the sun brilliant, the blue sea scaroely ruffled : then what had become of the four married couples, the three baohdiors, and the aotive and obliging doctor from the rural districts of Pennsyh'aniat— for all these were on deck when we sailed down New York harbour. This is. the explanation. I quote from my note-book : — 7%uraday, 3.80 p.m. Under way, passing the Battery. The large party, of four married couples, three bachelorS| and a cheery, exhilarating doctor from the wilds of Penn- qrlyania, are eyidently travelling together. All but the doctor grouped in camp-chairs on deck. Passing principal fort. The doctor is one of those people who has an infidlible preyentiye of sea-sickness ; is flitting from friend to friend administering it and saying, ' I>on't you be afraid; I know this medicine; absolutely infallible; prepared under my owi| supervision.' Takes a dose himself^ intrepidly. 4.15 P.M. Two of those ladies have strudc their colours, notwithstanding the ^iufidlible/ They have gone below. The other two b^gin to show distress. 5 P.1I. Exit one husband and one bachelor. These still bad their infallible in cargo when they started, but airived at the companion-way without it, 5.10. Lady No. 8, two bachelors, and one married man have gone below with their own opinion of the ii^&Uible. 4f 80MS RAMBUNQ NOTjbiS OF 6.20. Fusing Quarantine Hnlk. The infallible hat done the hmdneai for all the party except the Sootchinan*a wife and the author of that formidable remedy. Kearin^ the Ligfat-Ship. Exit the Sootohman'a wife^ head drooped on stewardess's shoulder. Entering the open sea. Exitdootorl The rout seems permanent; henoe the smallcoss of ehe company at table since the Toyige began. Our captain is a grave, handsome Hercules of thirty-five, "^th a brown hand of such majestic siie that one cannot eat for admiring it, and wondering if a single kid or calf could furnish material for gloving it. ■ Conversation not general; drones along between couples. One catches a sentence here and there. like thl^, from Bermudian of thirteen years' absence : ' It is the nature ol women to vssk trivial, irrelevant, and pursuing questions— questions that pursue you from a beginning in nothing to a f run-to-oover in nowhere.' Beply of Bermudian of twenty- seven years' absence : * Tes ; and to think they have logical, analytic^ minds and argumentative ability, you see 'em begin to whet up whenever they smell argument in the air.' Plainly these be philosophers. Twice since we left port our engines have stopped for a couple of minutes at a time. Now they stop again. Says the pale young man, meditatively, 'There ! that engineer is sitting down to rest again.' Grave stare from the captain, whose mighty jaws cease to work, and whose harpooned potato stops in mid-air on its way to his open, paralysed mouth. Presently says he in AS IDLB SXCURSXON. wife^ air/ 18 maMured tones, * 1b it your idea that the engineer of thii ihip propels her by a crank turned by his own hands f ' The pale young man studies over this a moment^ then Ults up his gnileleBS eyes, and says, ' Don't he f ' Thus gently fiUls the death-blow to ftirther conyersation, and the ('fnner drags to its dose fn a reflective silence, di» tnrbed by no sounds but the murmurous wash of the sea and the stibdued clash of teeth. After a smoke %nd a promenade on deck, where is no motion to discompose our steps, we think of a g^me of whist. We asik the brisk and capable stewardess from Ireland if ^here wee any cards in the ship. 'Bless your soul, dear, indeed there is. Not a whole pic'*% true kit ye, but not enough missing to signify.' However, I happened by acddent to bethink me of a new pack in a morocco case, in my trunk, which, I bad placed there by mistake, thinking it to be a ^ask of some- thing. 80 a party of us conquered the tediui^ of the evening with a few games and were ready for bed at sa bells, mariner's time, the signal for putting out the lights. There was much chat in the smoking-cabin on the upper deck after luncheon to-day, mostly whaler yams from those old sea-captains. Captain Tom Bowling was garrulous. He had that garruloi&s attention to minor detail which is bom of secluded farm life or life at sea on long voyages, where there is little to do and timo no object. He would sail along till he was right in tbo most exciting part of a yam, and then say, 'Well, as I was saying, the rudder was fouled, ship driving before the gale, head-on, straight for the ioeberg, all hsinds holding their breath, turned to stone^ 44 ^ilfj; RAMBLING NOTSS OF top^hamper giving way, saiU blown to ribbons, ftnt ont ■tiok going, then another, boom I smaah 1 orach I duok yonr head and stand from under f when up oomea Johnny Bogersy eiipstan bar in hand, eyes a-hlaang, hair a-flying . . . no^ twaVt Johnny Rogera . . . lemme see . . . aeema to me Johnny Rogers wa'n't along that voyage ; he was along om voyage, I know that mighty well, but somehow it seems to me that he signed the artioles for this voyage, but — but— whether he oome along or not, or go^ left, or something happened — ' And so on and so on, till the excitement all oooled down and nobody oared whether the ship struck the ioeberg or not. In the course of his talk he rambled into a oritioiBm upon New England degrees of merit in shipbuilding. Said he, * You get a vessel built away down Maineway ; Bath, for instance ; what's the result 1 First tMng you do, you want to heave her down for repairs — that- 8 the reeuit I Well, sir, she hain't been hove down a week till you can heave a dog through her seams. Tou send that vessel to sea, and what's the result t She wets her oakum the first trip t Leave it to any man if 'tain't so. Well, you let our folks build you a vessel — down New Bedford-way. Whafs the result! Well, sir, you might take that ship and heave her down, and keep her hove down six months, and she'U never shed a tear f ' Everybody, landsmen and all, recognised the descriptive neatness of that figure, and applauded, which greatly pleased the old man. A moment later, the meek eyes of the pale- young fellow heretofore mentioned came up slowly, rested AH IDLS SXCUnSION, opon the old ^man's face a moment, and the meek mouth began to open. * Shot your head t ' shouted the old mariner. It was a rather startling surprise to everybody, but it was effective in the matter of its purpose. So the con- versation flowed on instead of perishing. There was some talk about the perils of the sea, and a landsman delivered himself of the customary nonsense about the poor mariner wandering in Ux ooeiuis, tempesirtossed, pursued by dangers, every storm-blast aud thundeibolt in the home sKies moving the friends by snug firesides to com- passion for that poor mariner, and prayers for his succour. Captain Bowling put up with this for a while, and then burst out wit^ a new view of the matter. < Come, belay there ! I have read this kind of rot all my life in poetry and tales and such like rubbage.. Pity for the poor mariner t sympathy for the poor mariner 1 All right enough, but not in the way the poetry puts it. Pity for the niariner's wife t all right again, but not in the way the poetry puts it. Look-a-here ! whose life's the safest in ih« whole world ) The poor mariner's. Tou look at the sta- tistics, youll see. So don't you fool away any sympathy on the poor mariner's dangers and privations and suffering!. Leave that to the poetry muflk Now yon look at the other side a minute. Here is Captain Brace, forty years old, been at sea thirty. On his way now to take command of his ship and sail south from Bermuda. Next week hell be under^ way : easy times ; comtbrtabl'' quarters ; passengers, sociable company ; just enough to do to keep his mind healthy and not tire him ; king over his ship, boss of everything and 46 SOUfJ! RAMBUNQ NOTES OF - everybody; thirty years' safety to learn him that his pro- fession ain't a dangerous one. Now you look back at his home. His wife's a feeble woman ; she's a stranger in Kew York ; shut, up in blazing hot or freezing cold lodgings, ao* <X>rd{ng to the season; don't know anybody hardly; no company but Ver lonesomeness t^ad her thoughts ; husband gone six months at a tim j. She has borne eight children ; five of them she has buried without her husband ever setting eyes on them. She watohed them all the long nights till they died — he comfortable on the sea ; she followed them to the grave, sLo heard the clods fall that broke her heartr^ he comfortable on the sea ; she mourned at home, weeks and weeks, liiissing them eveiy day and every hour — he cheerful at sea, knowing nothing about it. Now look at it a minute •—turn it over in your mind and size it : five children bom, she among stran<;^ers, and him not by to hearten her; buried, and him not by tO comfort her ; think of that ! Sympathy for the poor mariiner e perils is rot ; give it to his wife's hard lines, where it beloniips 1 Poetry makes out that all the wife worries about is the dangers her husband's running. She's got substantialer things to worry over, I tell you. Poetry's always pitying the poor mariner on account of his perils at sea ; better a blamed sight pity him for the nights he cant sleep for thinking of how he had to leave his wife in her very birth pains, lonesome and friendless, in the thick ci disease and trouble and death. If there's one thing that can make me madder than another, it's this sappy, damned maritime poetry t ' Oaptain Brace was a patient^ gentle, seldom-speaking man, with a pathetic something in his bronzed face that had AN IDLE EXCURSION^ 47 been a mjstety up to this time, but atood interpreted now, muoe we had heard hia story. He had voyaged eighteen times to the Mediterranean, seven times to India, ofioe to the Arotie pole in a disoovery-ship, and ' between times ' had ▼idted all the remote seas and ocean comers of the globe. Bat he said that twelve years ago, on aoooont of his fieunily, he * settled down/ and ever since then had ceased to roam. And what do you suppose was this simple-hearted, life-long wanderer's idea of settling down and ceasing ^o roamt Why, the making of two five-month voyages a year between Surinam and Bpston for sugar and molasses 1 Among other talk, to-day, it came out that whale-ships carry 1:0 doctor. The captain adds the doototship to his own dut)'>?. He not only gives medicines, but sets broken limbs after notions of his own, or sawtr them off and sears the stump when amputation seems best. The captain is provided with a medidne-chest, with the medicines num- bered instead of named. A book of directions goes with this. It describes diseases and symptoms, and says, ' Give a teaspoonfal of Ko. 9 once an hour,' or * Give ten grains of Ko. 12 every half hour,' etc. One of our sea-captains came across a skipper in the Nortii Pacific who was in a state of great surprise and perplexity. Said h&— 'There's tomething rotten about this medidne-chest business. One of my mep was sick — ^nothing much the matter. I looked m the book : it said, give him a teaspoon- ful of No. 15. I went to the medidne-chest, and I secl was out of No. 16. I judged I'd got U> get up a combina- tion somehow that would fill the bill; so I hove into the fellow half a taaspoonful of No. 8 and hidf a teaspoonftd 80MJB RAMBLING ITOTJBS OF of No 7, and 111 be hanged if it didn't JoU him in fifteen minutes I There's something abont this mcdicine*ohest sys- tem that's too many for me 1 ' There was a good deal of pleasant gossip about old Captain * Hurricane ' Jones, of the Baoifio Ocean — ^peace to his ashes I Two or thr^e of us present had known him ; I, particularly well, for I had made four sea-voyages with bim. He was a very remarkable man. He was bom in a ship ; he picked up what little education he had among his ship- mates ; he began life in the forecastle, and climbed grade by grade to the captaincy. More than fifty years of his sixty- five were spent at sea. He had sailed all oceans, seen all ' lands, and borrowed a tint from all climates. When a man has been fifty years at sea he necessarily knows nothing of men, nothing of the world but its surface, nothing of the world's thought, nothing of the world's learning but its A B 0, and that blurred and distorted by the unfocussed lenses of an untrained mind. Such a man is only a grey and bearded child. That is what old Hurricane Jones was — simply an innocent, lovable old infant. When his spirit was in repose he was as sweet and gentle as a girl; when his wrath was up he was a hurricane that made his nickname seem tamely descriptiva He was formidable in a fight, for he was of powerful build and dauntless courage. He was frescoed from head to heel with pictures and mottoes tattooed in red and blue India ink. I was with him one voyage when he got his last vacant space tattooed ; this vacant space waa around his left ankle. During three days he stumped about the ship with his ankle bare and swollen, and this legend I AN UDLS SXCUMSIoy. gleaming red and angry out from a douding of India ink : ' Yiriiie is its own R'd.' (There was a lack of room.) He was deeply and sincerely pious, and swore like a fish-woman. He considered swearing blameless, because sailors would not understand an order nnillumined by it. He was a pro- found Biblical scholar — that is, he thought he was. He believed everything in the Bible, but he had his own methods of arriving at his beliefik He was of the * ad- vanced ' school of thinkers, and applied natural laws to the interpretation of all miradee, somewhat on the plan of the people who make the six days of creation six geological epochs, and so forth. Without being aware of it, he was a rather severe satire on modem scientific religionists. Such a man as I have been describing is rabidly fond oi disquisi- tion and argument; one knows that without being told it. One trip the captain had a clergyman on board, but did not know he was a clergyman, since the passenger list did not betray the fact. He took a great liking to this lev. Mr. Peters, and talked with him a great deal ; told him yams, gave him toothsome Scraps of personal history, and wove a glittering streak of profanity through hii garrulous fabric that was refreshing to a spirit weary of the dull neutralities of undecorated speech. One day the captain ioid, ' Peters, do you ever read the Bible 1 ' 'Well— yes.' *I judge it ain't often, by the way you say it. Now, you tackle it in dead earnest once, and you'll find itil pay. Don't you get discouraged, but hang right on. First, you wo«i't understand it; but by-and-by things will begin to dear up, and then you wouldn't lay it down to eat.' 5 ■0 BOMB RAMBimO NOTSS Of 'Yes, I haye heard that said.' ^ ' And it's 80 too. There ain't a book that begins with it It lays over 'em all, Peters. There's some pretty tough things in it — ^there ain't any getting around that — ^bat yon stick to them and think them out, and when once you get on the inside eveiytlung's plain as day.' < The miracles, ^ 'X), captain t ' ' Yes, sir I the miracles, too. Every one of them. Now, there's that business with the prophets of Baal; like enough that stumped you t ' •Well, I don't know but • ' Own up, now ; lii stumped you. Well, I don't wonder. Yoii hadn't had any experience in ravelling such things out, and naturally it was too many for you. Would you like to have me explain that thing to you, and show you how to get at the meat of these matters % ' 'Indeed I would, captain, if you don't mind.' Then the captain proceeded as follows: '111 do it with pleasure. First, you see, I read and read, and thought and thought, till I got to understand what sort of people they were in the old Bible times, and then after that it was all dear and easy. Now, this was the way I put it up, con- cerning Isaac ^ and the prophets of BaaL There was some mighty sharp men amongst the public characters of that old ancient day, and Isaac was one of them. Isaac had his failings — ^plenty of them, too it ain't for me to apologise for Isaac ; he played it on the prophets of Baal, and like tnough he was justifiable, considering the odds that waf > This is the oe^tain^El own nuistake* ' -^ AN IDLE BXCUHSION, Bgainst him. No, all I say is, 'twa'n't anj miracle^ and tihat 111 show you soVt you <«ii see it youraelfl ' Weli| times had been getting rougher and rougher for prophets — ^that is, prophets of Isaac's denomination. Thero was four hundred and fifty prophets of Baal in the oom- murity, and only one Presbyterian ; that is, if Isaac woi a Iveisbyterian, which I reckon he was, but it don't say. Naturally, the prophef-** of Baal took all the trade. Isaac was pretty low-spirited, I reckon, but he was a good dad of a man, and no doubt he went a-prophesying around, letting on to be doing a land-office business, but 'twa'n't any use; he couldn't run any opposition to amount to anything. By- and-by things got desperate with him ; he sets his head to work and thinks it all out, and then what does he do) Why, he begins to threw out hints that the other parties are this and that and t'other — ^nothing very definite, may be, but just kind of undermining their reputation in a quiet way. This made talk, of course, 4md finally got to the king. The king asked Isaac what he meant by his talk. Sayi Isaac, " Oh, nothing particular ; only, can they pray down fire from heayen on an altar 9 It ain't much, may be, your majesty, only can they do itt That's the idea." So the king was a good deal dis^lrbed, and he went to the prophets of BaaL and they said, pretty airy, that if he had an altar ready, they were ready; and they intimated he better get it insured, too. * So ne^ morning all the children of Israel and their parents and the other people gatherea themselves together. Well, here was that great crowd of prophets of Baal packed together on one nde, and Isaac waUdng up and down all alone on the ) 4 aOJI£B RAMBLIKG NOTES OF other, patting up his job. When time was called, Inao let on to he comfortable and indifierent ; told the other team to take the first innings. So they went at it, the whole four hun- dred and fifty, praying around the altar, very hopeftil, and loing their level best. They prayed an hour — two hours — three hours — and so on, plumb till noon. It waVt any use; they hadn't took a trick. Of course they felt kind of ashamed before all those people, and well they might. Now, what would a magnanimous man do 9 Keep still, wouldn't hel Of course. What did Isaac dof He gravelled the prophets of Baal every way he could, think of. Says he^ '^Tou don't speak up loud enough ; your gud's asleep, like enough, or may be he's taking a walk ; you want to holler, you know**— or words to that effect; I don't recollect the exact language. Mind, I don't apologise for Isaac; he had his faults. 'Well, the prophets of Baal prayed along the best they knew how all the afternoon, and never raised a spark. At last, about sundown, they were all tuckered out, and they owned up and quit. < What does Isaac do, now % He steps up and says to some friends of his, there, ** Pour four barrels of water on the altar ! '* Everybody was astonished ; for the other side had prayed at it dry, you know, and got whitewashed. They poured it on. Says he, ** Heave on four more barrehk*^ The^ he says, " Heave on four more.** Twelve barrels, you see, altogether. The water ran all over the altar, and all down the sides, and filled up a trench around it that would hold a couple of hogsheads — ''measures,'* it says; I reckon it means about a hogshead. Some of the people were going ^ AN IDLE BXCUnSION. 88 to pat on their things and go, for they allowed he was orasy. They didn't know Isaac. Isaao kneU down and began to pray: he strung along, and strung along, about the heathen in distant lands, and about the sister churches, and about the state and the country at large, and about those that's in authority in the government, and all the usual progranune, you know, tiU everybody had got tired, and gone to thinking about something else, and then, all of a sudden, when nobody was noticing, he outs with a match and rakes it on the under side <^ his leg, and pff I up the whole thing blaxes Uke a hbuse afire 1 Twelve barrels of wat&r^ Petroleum^ sir, pstbolbumI that's what itwasi' ' Petroleum, captain t ' ' Yes, sir ; the oountiy was ftill of it. Isaac knew aU about that. Tou read the Bible. Don't you worry about the tough places. They ain't tough when you come to think them put and throw light on them. There ain't a thing in the Bible but what is true; all you want is to go prayer- fully to work and cipher out how 'twas done/ , At eight o'dock on the third morning out from New York land was sighted. Away across the sunny waves one saw a faint dark stripe stretched along under the horizon — or pretended to see it, for the credit of his eyesight. Even the Beverend said he saw it, a thing which was manifestly not so. But I never have seen any one who was morally strong enough to confess that he could not see land when others claimed that they could. By-and-by the Bermuda Islands were easily visible. The principal one lay upon the water in the distance, a I ! I 8i BOMB RAMBLING N0TB8 OF long, duU- coloured body, aoalloped with slight hillB and valleys. We ooold not go straight at it, bat had to travel all the way around it, sixteen miles from shore, because it is fenced with an invisible coral reef. At last we sighted buoys, bobbing here and there, and then we glided into a narrow channel among them, 'raised the reef,' and came upon shoaling blue water that soon further shoaled into pale green, with a surfece scarcely rippled. Now came the resurrection hour : the berths gave up their dead. Who are these pale spectres in plug hats and silken flounces that file up the companion-way in melancholy procession and step upon the deck 1 These are they which took the infiallible preventive of seansickness in New York harbour, and then disappeared and were forgotten. Also there came two or three faces not seen before until this moment. One's im- pulse is to ask, < Where did you come aboard % ' We followed the narrow channel a long time, with land on both sides — ^low hills that might have been green and grassy, but had a faded look instead. However, the land- locked water was lovely, at any rate, with its glittering belts of blue and green where moderate sbundings were, apd its broad splotches of rich brown where the rocks lay near the surface. Everybody was feeling so well that even the grave, pale young man (who, by a sort of kindly common consent, had come latterly to be referred to as ' the Ass') received frequent and friendly notice — whicb was right enough, for there was no harm in him. At last we steamed between two island points whose rocky jaws allowed only just enough room for the vessel's body, and now before us loomed Hamilton on her olusterad AN IDIS EXCVRSION, 05 Ok and travel use it if sighted 1 into a d came 9d into me the ^o are hat file id step fiallible id then bwo or )'8 im- b land n and iland- tering apd rnear n the imon right rhoee »erg ieied knieddeB and smmnits, the whitest mass df terraced aroh^ teoture that er'sts in the world, perhaps. It was Sunday afternoon, and on the pier weve gathered one or two hundred Bermadiaiw, half of them black, half of them white^ and all of them nobbily dressed, as the poet says. Several boats came off to the ship, bringing dtizena. One of these citizens was a faded, diminutive old gentleman, who approached our most ancient passenger with a childlike joy in his twinkling eyes, halted before him, folded his arms, and said, smiling with all his might and with all the simple delight that was in him, ' Tou don't know me, John 1 (> jme^ out with it, now ; you know you don't I ' The andent passenger scanned him perplexedly, scanned the napless, threadbare costume of venerable fashion that had done Sunday service no man knows how many years, contemplated the marvellous stove-pipe hat of still more ancient and venerable pattern, with its poor pathetic old stiff brim canted up ' gallusly ' in the wrong places, and said, with a hesitation that indicated strong internal effort to ' plao^ ' the gentle old apparition, * Why ... let me see . • . plague on it . . . there's Btymethvng about you that • . . er . . . er . . . Wt Tve been gone from Bermuda for IwentyHse^^en years, and . . . hum, hum ... I don't seem to get at it, somehow, but there's something about you that 10 just as familiar to me a n ' ' Likely it might be his hat,' murmured the Ass, with innocent, iBympathetic interest I SOME RAMBLING NOTMS OF in So the Reverend and I had at last arrived at Hamilton, the principal town in the Bermuda Islands. A wonderfnlly white town ; white as snow itself. White aa marUe ; white as flour. Tet looking like none of thesoi eiototly. Never mind, we said ; we shall hit vpon a figure hy-ond-by that will describe this peculiar wMoO. It was a town that was compacted together upon the sides and tops of a duster of small hills. Its outlying borders hinged off and thinned away among the cedar ■ir forests, and there was no woody distance of curving coast^ or leafy islet sleeping upon the duupledi painted sea, but waa flecked with shining white points — half-concealed houses peeping out of the foliage. The architecture of the town was mainly Spanish, inherited from the colonists of two hundred and fifty years ago. Some ragged-topped cocoa- palms, glimpsed here and there, gave the land a tropical aspect. There was an ample pier of heavy maflonxy ; upon this, under shelter, were some thousands of barrels containing that product which has carried the fame of Bermuda to many lands, the potato. With here and there an onion. That last sentence is facetious; for they grow at least two onions in Bermuda to one potato. The onion is the pride and joy of Bermuda. It is her jewel, her gem of gems. In her conversation, her pulpit, her literature, it is her most fi:^uent and eloquent figure. In Bermudian metaphor it ■tands for perfbction — ^perfection absolute. I 'HI the! cot wM out The whi anc ! AN WLB EXCURSION. The Bermadian weeping over the departed ezhaiifitM praise when he says, * He was an onion I * The Bermadian estolling the living hero bankrupts applause when he saySi *He is an onion 1 ' The Bermudian setting his son upon the stage of life to dare and do for himself dimaxes all counsel, supplication, admonition, comprehends all ambitioii, when he says, ' Be an onion 1 ' When parallel with the pier, and ten or fifteen steps outside it, we anchored. It was Sunday, bright and sunny. The groups upon the pier — ^men, youths, and boys — ^were whites and blacks in about equal proportion. All were well and i^Uy dressed, many of them nattily, a few of them yecj stylishly. One would have to trave.^ far before he would find another town of twelve thousand inhabitants that could represent itself so respectably, in the matter of dothes, on a freight-pier, without premeditation or efibrt The women and young girls, black and white, who occaslon- ally passed by, were nicely dad, and many were degantly and fkshionably so. The men did not affect summer dothing mudi, but the girls and women did, and their white garments were good to look at, alter so 'many months of fiuniliarity with sombre colours. Around one isolated potato barrd stocd four young gentlemen, two black, two white, becomingly dressed, each with the head of a dender cane pressed against his teeth, and each with a foot propped up on the barreL Another young gentleman came up, looked longingly at the barrd, but saw no rest for his foot there, and turned pensively away to seek another barrel. Ho wandered here and there, but without result. Nobody sat upon a barrd, as is the custom $0M£ RAMBLIKO K0TE8 OF of tbe idle in other Undi, yet all the Isolated barrels weN hamanly oconpied. Whosoever had a foot to ipare pat it on a barrel) if all the plaoes on it were not already taken. The habits of all peoples are determined by their oircum- stanoes. The Bermudians lean upon barrels because of the scarcity of lamp-posts. Many oitlsens came on board and spoke eagerly to the officers — inquiring about the Tnroo-Russian war news, I supposed. However, by listening judiciously I found that this was not so. They said, ' What is the price of onions t* or, ' How's onions t ' Naturally enough this was their first interest; but they dropped into the war the moment^ was satisfied. We went ashore and found a novelty of a pleasant nature : there were no hackmen, hacks, or omnibuses oA the pier or about it anywhere, and nobody offered his services to us or molested us in any way. I said it was like being in heaven. The Keverend robukingly and rather pointedly advised me to make the most of it« then. Wo knew of a boarding-house, and what we needed now was somebody to pilot us to it. Presently^ a little barefooted coloured boy came along, whose raggedness was conspicuously un-Ber- mudian. His rear was so marvellously bepatched with coloured squares and triangles that one was half persuaded he had got it out of an atlas. When the sun struck him right, he was as good to follow as a lightning-bug. We hired him and dropped into his wake. He piloted us through one picturesque street after another, and in due course deposited us ^'here we belonged. He charged nothing for his map, and but a trifle for his services ; so the Beverend AN JDZB gxcunsioir. .babied it The little ohap received tlio money witli a Deaming applause in hia eye which [ilainly eaid, ' This man's an onion 1 ' We had brought no letters of introduction; our nameu had laen misspelt in the passenger list; nobody knew whether we were honest folk or otherwise. So we were expecting to have a good private time in case there was nothing in our general aspect to dose boarding-house doon against us. We had no trouble. Bermuda has had but little experience of rascals^ and is not suspicious. We got large, cool, well-lighted rooms on a second floor, overlooking a blymy display of flowers and flowering shrubs — calls and annunciation lilies, lantanas, heliotrope, jeaaamine, roses, pinks, double geraniums, oleanders, pomegranates, blue morning-glories of a great siie^ and miany plants that were unknown to me. We took a long afternoon walk, and soon found out that that ezceef/r/»gly white town was built of blocks o^ white coral. Bermuda is a coral island, with a six-inch crust of soil on «top of it, and every man has a quarry on his own premises. Everywhere you go you see square recesses cut into the hillsides, with perpendicular walls unmarred by crack or crevice, and perhaps yon £uicy that a house grew out of the ground there, and has been removed in a single piece from the mould. If yoa do, you err. But the material for a house has been quarried there. They cut right down through the coral, to any depth tiiat is convenient — ^ten to twenty feet — and take it out in great square blocks. This cutting is done with a chisel thaf* has a handle twelve or fifteen feet long, and is used as one uses a crowbar when be 60 ^Oilf:^ RAMBLING NOTBS 01/ Ib drilling a Lole, or a dasher when he is ohuming. Thus soft is this stone. Then with a oommon hand-saw they saw the great blocks into handsome, huge bricks that are two feet long, a foot wide, and about six inches thick. These stand loosely piled during a month to harden; then the work of building begins. The house is built of these blocks ; it is roofed with broad coral slabs an inch thick, whose edges lap upon each other, so that the roof looks like a succes- sion of shallow steps or terraces \ the chimneys are built of the coral blocks, and sawed into graceful and picturesque patterns ; Ihe ground-floor veranda is paved with coral blocks ; also the walk to the gate ; the fence is built of coral blqi^cs — built in massive panels, with broad capstones and heavy gate-posts, and the whole trimmed into easy lines and comely shape with the saw. Then they put a hard coat of white- wash, as thick as your thumbnail, on the fence and all over the house, roof, chimneys, and all ; the sun comes out and shines on this spectacle, and it is time for you to shut your unaccustomed eyes, lest they be put out. It is the whitest white you can conceive of, and theblindingest. A Bermuda house does not look like marble ; it is a much inteoser white than that \ and besides, there is a dainty, indefinable some- thing else about its look thai is not marble-like. We put in a great deal of solid talk and reflection over this; matter of trying to find a figure tnat would describe the unique white of a Bermuda house, and we contrived to hit upon it at last. It is exactly the white of the icing of a cake, and has the same unemphasised and scarcely perceptible polish. The white of marble is modest and retiring compared with it. After the house is cafied in its hard scale of whitewasli^ AN IDLE EXCURSION. ei ncft A cracky or sign of a seam, or joioing of the blocks, is detectable, horn, base-stone to chiimiej-top; the building looks as if it had been carved from a single block of stone, and the doors and windows sawed out afterwards. A white marble house has a oold, tomb-like, ansddable look, and takes the conversation out of a body and depresses him. Not so with a Bermuda house. There is something ex- hilarating, even hilarious, about its vivid whiteness when the sun plajs upon it. If it be of picturesque shape and graceful contour — and many of the Bermudian dwellings are — ^it will so fSskSGinate you that you will keep your eyes on it nnti^they ache. One of those clean-out, fitncLful chimneys — too pnr» and white for this world — with one side glowing in the sun and the other touched with a soft shadow, is an object that will charm one's gase by the hour. I know of no other country that has chimneys worthy to be gazed at and gloated over. One Of those snowy houses, half-concealed and half-glimpsed through green foliage, is a pretty thing to see ; and if it takes one by surprise and suddenly, as he turns a sharp comer of a country road, it will wring an exdamation firom himi, sure. Wherever you go, in town or country, you find those snowy houses, and always with masses of bright-coloured flowers about them, but with no vines dimbing their walls; vines cannot take hold of the smooth, hard whitewash. Wherever you go, in the town or along the country roadS| among little potato farms and patches or expensive country seats, these etainless white dwellings, gleaming out from flowers and foliage, meet you at every turn. The least little bit of a cottage is as white and blemishless as the stateliest ' « -i i aOMB RAMBLINO K0TE9 OF mangioin. Nowhere is there dirt or steiicb, puddle or hog- wallow, neglect, disorder, or lack of trimness and neatnofla The roads, the streets, the dwellings, the people, the clothes — ^this neatness extends to everything that fetlls ni ier the eye. It is the tidiest conntiy in the world. And very much the tidiest, too. Considering these things, the question came r.p. Where do the poor live 1 No answer was arrived at. Therefore, we agree to leave this conundrum for future statesmen to wrangle over. What a bright and startling spectade one of those blazing white country palaces, with its brown-tinted window caps and ledges, and green shutters, and its wealth of caressing flowers and foliage, would be in black London ! And what a gleaming surprise it would be in nearly any American dty one could mention, too t Bermuda roads are made hy cutting down a few inches into the solid white coral — or a good many feet, where a hill intrudes itself — and smoothing off the surface of the ro§4-bod. It is a simple and easy process. The grain of the coral is coarse and porous ; the road-bed has the look of being made of coarse white sugar. Its exqessiye cleanness and whiteness are a trouble in one way : the sun is n^flected into your eyes with such energy as you walk along, that you want to sneeze all the time. Old Captain Tom Bowling found another difficulty. He joined us in our walk, but kept wandering unrestfully to the roadside. Finally he explained. Said he, * Well, I chew, you know, and the road's so plaguy dean.' We walked several miles that afternoon in the bewilder- ing glare of the sun, the white roads., and the white buildings. Our tool look^ sn his and AN IDLE BXCUItSION. Our fljes got to paimng us a good deal. By-and-by a Boothing, blessed twilight spread its cod balm around. We looked up in pleased surprise and saw that it proceeded fix>m in intensely black negro who was going by. We answered his military salute in the grateful gloom of his near presence^ and then passed on into the pitiless white glare again. The coloured women whom we met usually bowed and 5poke ; so did the children. The coloured men commonly gave the military salute. They borrow this fiushion from the soldiers, no doubt; England has kept a garrison here for generations. The younger men's custom of carrying small canes is also borrowed from the soldiers, I suppose, who alwayd carry a cane, in Bermuda as everywhere else in Britr Vs broad dominions. The country roads curve and wind hither and thither in the delightfolest way, unfolding pretty surprises at every turn : billowy masses of oleander that seem to float out from behind distant projections like the pink doudbanks of sunset ; sudden plunges among cottages and gardens, life and activity, followed by aa sudden plunges into the sombre twilight and stillness of the woods; flitting visions of white fortresses and beacon towers pictured against the sky on remote hill-tops; glimpses of shining green sea caught for a moment through opening headlands, then lost again ; more woods and solitude ; and by-and-by another turn lays bare, without warning, ^he full sweep of the inland oceaui enriched with its bars of soft colour, and graced with its wandering sails. Take any road you please, you may depend upon it you will not stay m it half a mile. Your road is everything t^iat .'' • \ \ ■\ . M SOME RAMBLING N0TJB8 OF a road ought to be: it is bordered with trees, and with strange plants and flowers; it is shady and pleasant, or sunny and stUl pleasant ; it carries you by the prettiest and peacefulest and most homelike of homes, and through stretches of forest that lie in a deep hush sometimes, and sometimes are alive with the music of birds; it curves always, whioh is a continual promise, whereas straight roads reveal ever/thing at a glance and kill interest. Tour road is all this, and yet you will not stay in it half a mile, fer the reason that little seductive, mysterious roads are always branching out from it on either hand, and as these curve sharply also and hide what is beyond, you cannot resist the temptation to desert your own chosen road and explore them. Ton are usually paid for your trouble ; consequently, your walk inland always turns out to be one of the most crooked, involved, purposeless, and interesting experiences a body can imagine. There is enough of variety. Sometimes you are in the level open, with marshes thick grown with flag-lances that aro ten feet high on the one hand, and potato and onion orchards on the other ; next, you aro on a hill-top, with the ocean and the islands spread around you; presently the road winds through a deep cut, shut in by perpendicular walls thirty or forty feet high, mark^^ with the oddest and abruptest stratum lines, suggestive of sudden and eccentric old upheavals, and garnished with hero and there a clinging a>2venturous flower, anc^ hero and thero a dangling vine; and by-and-by your way is along the sea edge, and you may look down a &thom or two through the transparent water and watch the diamond like flash and play o( the l^t upon the rocks and sands on the bottom AN WLS BXCUnSION. 3d vntii yovL are tired of it-^ if yon are no oonstitated aa to liii able to get tired of it. Tou may march the u imtry roads in maiden meditntiony fiuBcy free, by field and fium, for no dog will plunge out at you from unsuspected gate, with breath-taking surprise of ferocious bark, notwithstanding it is a Christian land and a civilised. We saw upwards of a million cato in Bermuda^ but the people are very abstemious in the matter of dog& Two or three nights we prowled the country far and wide, and never once were ao(v>«ted by a dog. It is a great privi- lege to visit such a land. The cats were no offence when properly distributed, but when piled they obstructed travel. As we entered the edge of the town that Sunday after* noon, we stopped at a cottage to get a drink of water. The proprietory a middle-aged man with a good &oe, asked ua^ to sit down and rest. His dame brought chairs, and we grouped ourselves in the shade of the trees by the door. Mr. Smith — ^that was not his name, but it will answer — quea* tioned us about ourselves and our country, and we answered him truthfully, as a general thing, and questioned him in return. It was all very simple and pleasant and sociable. Rural, too ; for there was a pig and a small donkey and l hen anchored out, dose at hand, by cords to their legs, on a spot that purported to be grassy. Presently, a woman passed along, and although she coldly said nothing she changed the drift of our talk. Said Smith — 'She didn't look this way, you noticed 1 Well, she ia our jas7i neighbour on one side, and there's another fEumiljr that's our next neighbours on the other side ; but there's a general ooobeBs all aiou -^d now, and we don't speak. Yei F X y SOME HAMBLINO N0TB8 09 these three fi>-niiliA«^ one generation and another, haTe liyed here side hy side and heen as friendly as weavers Ibr a hundred and fifty years, till ahoat a year ago.' * Why, what calamity could hare been powerful enough m break up io old a friendshipt' ' Welly it was too ba^» but it couldn't be helped. It happened like this : About a year or more ago, the rats got to pestering my place a good deal, and I set up a steel-trap in the back yard. Both of these neighbours run considerable to oats, and so I warned them about the trap, be(».use their oats were pietty sociable around here nights, and they might get into trouble without my intending it. Well, they shut up their cats for a while, but you know how it is widi people; they got careless, and sure enough one night the trap took Mrs. Jones's principal tomcat into camp, and finished him up. In the moniing Mrs. Jones comes here with the corpse in her arms, and cries and takes on the same as if it WP49 a child. It was a cat by the name of Yelverton —Hector G. Yelverton — a troublesome old rip, with no more principle than an L^jun, though you couldn't make her believe it. I said all a man could to comfort her, but no, nothing would do but I must pay for him. Finally, I said I warr't investing in cats now as much as I was, and with that she walked off in a huff, carrying the remains with her. That closed our intercourse with the Joneses. Mrs. Jones joined another church and took her tribe with her. She said she would not hold fellowship with assassins. Well, by-and-by comes Mrs. Brown's turn — she that went by here a minute ago. She had a disgraceful old yellow cat that ihe thought as much of as if he was twins, and out Air n>ZB Bxcusaioir, I Oftt night he tried that trap on hie neok, and it fitted him so, fioid was io sort of satiafiactory, that he laid down and curled ap and stayed with it Such was the end of Sir John Baldwin.' * Was that the name of the cat t ' ' The same. There's cats around here with names that would surprise you. Maria' (to his wife), 'what was that oat's name that eat a keg of ratsbane by mistake . oyer at Hooper's, and started home and got struck by lightning, and took che blind staggers and feU in the well, and was most drowned before they could fish him out t ' 'That was that coloured Deacon Jackson's cat. I only rdmember the last end of its nime, wkich was Hold-The- Fort-For>I-Am-Ooming Jackson.' • < Sho ! that ain't the one. That's the one that eat up an entire box of Seidliti powders, and then hadn't any more judgment than to go and take a drink. He was considered to be a great loss, but I never could see it. Well, no matter about the names. Mrs. Brown wanted to be reasonable, but Mrs. Jones wouldn't let her. She put her up to going to law for damages. So to law she went, and had the face to claim seven shillings and sixpence. It made a great stir. All the neighbours went to court. Everybody took sides. It got hotter and hotter, and broke up all the friendships for three hundred yards around — friendships that had lasted for generations and generations. * Well, I proved by eleven witnesses that the oat was of a low character and very ornery, and wam't worth a cancelled postage-stamp, any way, taking the average of eats here ; but I lost the case. What could I expect t The BOMB RA3iJBLIN& NOTES OF qntem li all wrong here, and is bound to make revolution and bloodshed some day. You see, they give the magistrate ft poor little starvation salary, and then turn him loose on the public to gouge for fees and costs to live on. What is the natural result t Why he never looks into the justice of a case— never once. All he looks at is which client has got the money. So this one piled the fees and costs and everything 'i" to me.. I could pky specie, don't you seet and he kne o^i ^ well that if he put the verdict on to Mrs. Brown, where Li belonged, he'd have to take his swag in currency.' ' Currency f Why, has Bermuda a currency f ' ' Yes — onions. And they were forty per cent, discount, too, then, because the season had been over as much as three months. So I lost my case. I had to pay for that cat. But the general trouble the case, made was the worst thmg about it. Broke up so much good feeling. The neighbours don't speak to each other now. Mrs. Brown had named a child after me. But she changed its name right away. She is a Baptist. Well, in the course of baptising it over again, it got drowned. I was hojang we might get to be friendly again some time or other, but of course this drowning the child knocked that all out of the question. It would have saved a world of heart-break and ill Uood if she had named it dry.' I knew by the sigh that this was honest. All this trouble and all this destruction of confidence in the purity of the bench on account of a 8even-«hilling lawsuit about a ei\t t Somehow, it seemed to ' siae ' the country. At this point we observed that an Englirii flag had just awa: comi shoo we gove adm with «■< dead Mr. mud ing one'i mus max at som bu^ AS ihLB BJtfcimaioN. m » beeD phoed at half-mast on i building a hundred jardi away. I and mj friands were busy in an instant^ trying to {iii^«|rinA whose death, among the island dignitaries, ooaM oommand such a mark of respooi ss this. Then a shudder shook them and me at the same moment, and I knew that we had jumped to one and the same conclusion : * The govemor has gone to England; it is for the British sdinirall' ^ At this moment Mr. Smith noticed the flag. He said with emotion — ^ ' That^s on a boardmg-house. I judg<d >ere's a boarder dead.* - ^A doien other flags within view wee to half-mast. * It's a boarder, sure,' said Smith ' But would they half-mast the flags here for a boarderi Mr.Smithr * Why, certainly they would, if he was dsad! That seemed to sise the countiy again. rf ■'< 1 ' Jutt IV. The early twilight of a Sunday eveningin Hamilton, Her* muda, is an alluring time. There is just enough of whispet^ ing breeze, fragrance of flowers, and sense of repose to raise oine*s thoughts heayenward \ and just enough amateur piano muaio to ke^ him reminded of the other place. There are many venerable pianos in Ha»*uilton, and they all play at twilight. Age enlarges and enriches the powers of some musical instruments — ^noUbly those of the violinr^ but it seems to Mt a piano's teeth on edge. Most of 70 80MB MAMBJjyO NOTES OF the musie in vogue there is the same that tboee pianoi prattled in their innocent infancy; and there is some- thing very pathetic about it when they go over it now, in their asthmatic second childhood, dropping a note here and there/ wh^re a tooth is gone. We attended evening service at the stately Episcopal ohurch on the hill, where were five or six hundr ^J people, half of them white and the other half black, according to the usual Bermudian proportions; and all well dressed — a thing which is also usual in Bermuda, and to be confidently ex- pected. There was good music, which we heard, and doubt- less a good sermon, but there was a wonderful deal of coiighing, and so only the high parts of the argument caxtied over it. As we came out, after service, I overheard one young girl say to another-^ ' Why, you don't mean to say you pay duty on gloves and laoes! I only pay postage; have thorn done up and sent in the '' Boston Advertiser.'* ' There are those who believe that the most difficult thing to create is a woman who can comprehend that it is wrong to smuggle; and that an impossible thing to create is a woman who will not smuggle, whether or no, when she gets % chance. But these may be errors. We went wandering off toward the country, and were ■oon fiir down in the lonely black depths of a road that was roofed over with the dense foliage of a double rank of great oedars. There was no sound of any kind there ; it was per- fectly stilL And it was so dark that one could detect nothing but sombre outlines. We strode farther and fiurther down this tunnel, cheering the way with dhat. N ' AN IDLB SXCUBSIOir. n N Phsflentlj the chat took this dmpe : * How inflonfibly tint ehanuster of a people and of a goyemment makee its impi«H apon a stranger, and gives him a sense of seoarity or of insecurity without his taking deliberate thought upon the matter or asking anybody a question 1 We have been in this land half a day ; we have seen none but honest facet; wo hare noted the British flag flying, whidi means efficient government and good order ; so without inquiry we plunge unarmed and with perfect confidence into this dismal place, which in almost any other country would swarm with thugs and garotters ' 'Shi What was thatt Stealthy footsteps I Low voices 1 We gasp, we dose up together, and wait. A vague shape glides out of the dusk and confronts us. A voice speaks — demands money I 'A shilling, gentlemen, if you please, to help build the new Methodist church.' Blessed sound! Holy sound! We oontribute with thankful avidity to the new Methodist church, and are happy to think how lucky it was that those little coloured Sunday-school scholars did not seize with violence upon everything we had before we recovered from our momentary helpless condition. By the light of cigars we write down the names of weightier philanthropists than ourselves on the contribution-cards, and then pass on into the farther darkness, saying. What sort of a government do they call this, where they allow little black pious children, with oontribntion-cards, to plunge out upon peaceable strangen in the dark and scare them to death 1 We prowled on several hours^ sometimes by the seaside^ 79 80MB RAMSLIHQ NOTES OF sometimea inland, and finally managed to get lost, which ii a fisat that requirai talent in Bermuda. I had on n«w ahoef. They were No. 7's when I started, bat were nol more than 6'a now, and still diminishing. I walked two hoars in those shoes after that, before we reached home. Doabtless I ooald haye the reader's sympathy for the asking. Many people have neyer had the headache or the toothache^ and I am one of those myself; bat everybody has worn tight shoes for two or three hoars, and known the lozary of taking th^m off in a retired place and seeing his feet swell ap and obscure the firmament. Once when I was a callow, bashful cub, I took a plain, unsentimental country girl to a comedy one night. I had known her a day ; she seemed divine ; I wore my new boots. At the end of the first half- hour sho said, * Why do you fidget so with your feet t ' I said, ' Did 1 1 ' Then I put my attention there and kept still. At the end of another half-hour she said, ' Why do you say, ** Yes, oh yes 1 " and ** Ha, ha 1 oh, certainly 1 yery true I " to everything I say, when half the time those are en- tirely irrelevant answersi ' 1 blushed, and explained that I had been a little absent-minded. At the end of another half-hour she said, ' Please, why do you grin so steadfieuitly at vacancy, and yet look so sad t ' I explained that I always did that when I was reflecting. An hour passed, and then she turned and contemplated me with her eamef>t eyes and said, * Why do you cry all the time t ' I explained that very funny comedies always made me cry. At last human nature surrendered, and I secretly slipped my boots off. . This was a mistake. I was >iot able to get them on any more. It bere were no omnibuses rainy nightj going way Air IDIM SXCURSIOn, 71 Mid M I walked homey bamlng up with ihame, with the giii on one arm and my boots under the other, I wae an olject worthy of lome oompaesion — especially in thoee momenta of murtyrdom when I had to paai through the glare that fell upon the parement from street lampe. Finally, this child of the forest said, 'Where are your boots t' and being taken unprepai*ed, I put a fitting finish to the follies of the evening with the stupid remark, ' The higher classes do not wear them to the theatre.' The Reverend had been an army chaplain duiing the war, and while we were hunting for a road that would lead to Hamilton he told a story about two dying soldiers which interested me in spite of my feet. "He said, that in the Potomac hospitals rough pine coffins were furnished by government, but that it was not always possible to keep up with the demand; so, when a man died, if there was no coffin at hand he was buried without one. One night, late, two soldiers lay dying in a ward. A man came in with a ooffin on his shoulder, and stood trying to make up his mind which of these two poor fellows would be likely to need it first Both of them begged for it with their fading eyes — they were past talking. Then one of them protruded a wasted hand from his blankets and made a feeble beckoning sigA with the fingers, to signify, ' Be a good fellow ; put it under my bed, please.' The man did it, and left. The lucky soldier painfully turned himself in his bed until he istoed the other warrior, raised himself partly on his elbow, and began to work up a mysterious erpression of some ''nd in his face. Gradually, irksomely, but surely and steadily, It developed, and at last it took definite form as a pretty H 80MB RAMBLING N0TB8 OF ■n saccGBsful wmk. The sufferer fell back esdiausted with hif labour, but bathed in glory. Now entered a personal friend of No. 2, the despoiled soldier. No. 2 pleaded with him with eloquent eyes, till presently he understood, and removed the coffin from under No. I's bed and put it under No. 2's. No. 2 indicat3d bis joy, and made some more signs; the friend understood again, and put his arm under Na 2'8 shoulders and lifted him partly up. Then the dying hero turned the dim exultation of his ey^ upon No. 1, and began a flow and laboured work with his hands; gradually he lifted one hand up toward his face; it grew weak and dropped back again; once more he made the effort, but failed again. He took a rest ; he gathered all the remnant of his strength, and this time he slowly but surely carried his thumb to the side of his nose, spread the gaunt fibgers wide in triumph, and d ropped back dead. That picture sticks by me yet. The * situation ' is unique. The next morning, at what seemed a very ^arly hour, the little white table- waiter appeared suddenly in my room and shot a single word out of himself : ' Breakfast 1 ' This was a remarkable boy in many ways. He was about eleven years old ; he had alert, intent black eyes; he was quick of movement; there was no hesitation, no un- certainty about him anywhere ; there was a military decision in his lip, his manner, his speech, that was an astonishing thing to see in a little chap like him ; he wasted no words; his answers always came so quick and brief that they seemed to be part of the question that had been asked instead of a reply to it. When he stood at table with his fly-brush, rigid, erect, his face set in a cast-iron gravity, he waaa statiie AN IDLE EXCURSION. n tQl he detected a dawning want in somebody's eye; then he pounced down, supplied it, and was instantly a statue again. When he was sent to the kitchen for anything, he marched upright till he got to the door ; he turned hand-springs the rest of the way. 'Breakfast!' I thought I would make one more effort to get some oonversaUon out of this being. * Have you called the Beverend, or are—-' •Yess'rr ' Is it early, or is- * 'Eight-fivel* ' Bo you have to do all the ** chores," or is there some- body to give you a 1 ' ' Coloured girl V * Is there only one parish in this island, or are ther e ■ ' •Eightr * Is the big church on the hill a parish church, or is ' Ohapel-of-ease 1 ' 'Is taxation here classified into poll, parish, town, and' * \ * Don't know I' Before I could cudgel another question out of my head, be was below, handnspringing across the back yard. He had slid down the balusters, head-first. I gave up trying to provoke a discussion with him. The essential element of discussion had been left out of him ; his answers were so final and exact that they did not leave a doubt to hang con- versation on. I susptxst that there is the making of a mighty n SOME RAMBLING K0TE8 OF man or a mighty rascal in this boy — acoording to oircam- gtanoes — ^but they are going to appreotioe him to a carpenter. It is the way the world uses its opportunities. Daring this day and the next we took carriage drives about the island and over to the town of St. George's, fifteen or twenty miles away. Such hard, excellent roads to drive over are not to be found elsewhere out of Europe. An in- telligent young coloured man drove us, and acted as guide- book. In the edge of the town we saw five or six mountain- cabbage palms (atrocious name I) standing in a straight row, and equidistant from each other. These were not the largest or the tallest trees I have ever seen, but they were the state- liest — the most majestic. That row of them must be the nearest that nature has ever come to counterfeiting a colon- nade. These trees are all the same height, say sixty feet; the trunks as grey as granite, with a very gradual and perfect taper ; without sign of branch or knot or flaw ; the surfSaoe not looking like bark, but like granite that has been dressed and not polished. Thus all the. way up the diminishing shaft for fifty feet ; then it begins to take the appearance of being closely wrapped, spool-fashion, with grey cord, or of having been turned in a lathe. Above this point there is an outward swell, and thence upwards, for six feet or more, the cylinder is a bright, fresh green, and is formed of wrap- pings like those of an ear of green Indian com. Then comes the great spraying palm plume, also green. Other palm-trees always lean out of the perpendicular, or have a curve in them. But the plumb-line could not detect a deflection in any individual of this stetely row ; they stand as straight as the colonnade of Baalbeo ; they have ite great height, they ha AN IDLB EXCURSION. n have its graoefulness, thej have its dignity ; in moonllgbt or twilight, and shorn of their plumes, they would duplicate it. • The birds we came across in the country were singularly tame ; even that wild creature, the quail, would pick around in the grass at ease while we inspected it and talked about it at leisure. A small bird of the canary species had to be stirred up with the butt end of the whip before it would move, and then it moved only a couple of feet. It is said that even the suspicious idea is tame and sociable in Bermuda, and will allow himself to be caught and caressed without misgivings. This should be taken with allowance, for doubtless there is more or less brag about it. In San Francisco they used to claim that their native flea could kl^k a child over, as if it were a merit in a flea to be able to do that ; as if the knowledge of it trumpeted abroad ought to entice immigration. Such a thing in nine cases out of ten would be almost sure to deter a thinking man from coming. We saw no bugs or reptiles to speak of, and s^, I was thinking of saying in print, in a general way, that there were none at all ; but ore night alter I had gone to bed, the Reverend came mto my room carrying ^mething, and asked, * Is this your boot t ' I said it was, and he said he had met a spider going off with it. Next morning he stated that just at dawn the same spider raised his window and was coming hi to get a shirt, but saw him and fled. I inquire, * Did he get the shirt I ' < No.* * How did vou know it was a shirt he was after t ' m ^ I could see it in his >ye.' We inquired around, but could hear of no Bermudfav fS SOME RAMBLINQ NOTES OJT il. '■•■::aif^:- i svider oa^ able of doing these things. Citizen6 hk^vl 1}^% : thr 1 kvrgrat spiders could not more than spread their .' .<g9 ovr^r f.ti ordinary saucer, and that they had. always been considered honest. Hera wa^ testimony of a clergyman against the teft> timony of mere worldlings — interested ones, too. On tbd whole, 7 judged it best to lock up my tbingtf . Here and there on the <X)unti7 roads we found lemon, papaia, orange, lime, and fig trees; also several sorts of palms, among them the cocoa, the date, and the palmetto. We saw some bambc «s forty feet high, with stems a« thick as a man's arm. Jungles of the mangrove-tree stood up out of swamps, propped on their interlacing roots as upon a tangle of stilts. In drier places the noble tamariw! sent down its grateful cloud of shade. Here and tij« ..« the blossomy tamarisk adorned the roadside. There vas a curious gnarled and twisted black tree, without a single leaf on it. It might have passed itself off for a dead Mpple-tree but for the fact that it had a star-like, red-hot flower sprinkled sparsely '^ver its pe' - It had the scattery red glow that a constellation mighv L.»7e when glimpsed through smoked glass. It is possible that our constellations have been so constructed as to be invisible through smoked glass; if this is so it is a great mistiike. X We saw a tree that bears grapes, and just as calmly and unostentatiously as a vine would do it. We saw an India- rubber tree, but out of season, possibly, so there were no shoes ^a it, nor suspendera, nor anything that a person would properly expect to Snd there. This gave it an impressively i-fp iileL". look. There was exactly one mahogany tree on ^.» island. I know this to be i^iiable^ becaosd I mw a mim 'm:s.' ,^ \ AN IDLE SXCUnSION. who ftti^id he br'i oounfcetij it* >iihuy p. tixrx and could hoc }\- DiistttkeA, He wta a man with a hare lip and a pure heart, and everybody said he was as true as steel. Such men a?.6 all too few. " ' One's eye caught near and far the pink cloud of tlie (Meander and the red blaze of the pomegranate blossom. In. one piece of wild wood the morning-glory vines had wrapped the trees to their very tops, and decorated them all over with couples and clusters of great blue bells — a fine and striking spectacle, at a little distance. But the dull cedar is every- where, and its is the prevailing foliage One does not appre- ciate how dull it is until the varnished, bright green attire of the infrequent lemon-tree pleasantly intrudes its contrast. In one thing Bermuda is eminently tropical — was in May, at least — ^the unbrilliant, slightly faded, unrejoicing look of the landscape. For forests airayed in a blemishless mag- nificence of glowing green foliage that seems to exult in its own existence and can move the beholder to an en^-bu- siasm that will make him either ehout or cry, one rr ' :-t, gm to countries that have malignant winters. We saw scores of ooloored. farmers digging thef? aaji^ of potatoes and onions, their v/ivesand children halpmg — entirdly contented and comfortable, if looks go for anything. We never met a man, or woman, or child anywhere in this sunny island who seomed to be unprooperous, or discontented, or sorry about anything. This sort of monotony became very tiresome presently, and evea Homething worse. The speo lade of an entire n&tion groTelliug m contentment is tm infuriating thing. We felt the lack >>£ something in this eommunity — a ^sigue, an undefinable, as& elusive something, ' him ;^^ ^.^^';•*: mm. 80 aOMB ILiMBUNG NOTES OF ftnd yet a lack. Bat after ocmsiderable thought we made out what it was — ^tramps. Let them go there, right now, in a body. It IB utterly virgin soil. Passage b cheap. Every true patriot in America will help buy tickets. Whole armies of these excellent beings can be spared fix>m our midst and om* polls ; they will find a delicious climate and a green, kind-hearted people. There are potatoes and onions for all, and a generous welcome for the first batch that arrives, and elegant graves for the second. It was the Early Rose potato the people were digging Later in the year they have another crop, which they call the Garnet. Wo buy their potatoes (retail) at fifteen dollars a barrel ; and those coloured farmers buy ours for a song^ and live on them. Havana might exchange cigars with Con- bectici* t in the same advantageous way, if she thought of it. We passed a roadside grat; ry with a sign up, ' Potatoes Wanted. An ignorant stranger, doubtless. He could not have gone thirty steps from his place without finding plenty oC them. In 8evei\*l iielda the arrowroot crop was already sproai> jlng. Bermuda us^ to make a vast annual profit out of this staple before fire-arms came into such general use. The inland i& not large. Somewhere in the interior a mA'i'. Ltfmi if u& had a veiy slow horse. I suggested that we IkJ belt^ fo by him ; but the driver said the man had but a littb 'fmy to go. I waited to see, wondering how he Ciould know, Pi^escntly the man did turn down another road. I ;;iiked, * How did you know he would 1 * ' Because I knew the man, and where he lived.' I askf^^ him, satirically, if he knew everybody in tto AN WLB BXCVRSION, 81 tlM idancl ; he answered, veiy simply, that he <li<i This gives a body's mind a good substantial grip on tha dimensions of the place. At the principal hotel in St. George's, a young girl, with a sweet, serious fSetoe, said we could not be fumishe^d with dinner, because we had not been expected, and no preparation had been made. Yet it was still an hour before dinner time. We argued, she yielded not ; we supplicated, she was sei^ne. The hotel had not been expecting an inundation of two people, and so it seemed that we should have to go home dinnerless. I said we were not very hungry j a fish would do. My little maid answered, it was not the mark%t-day for fish. Things began to look serious; but presently the boarder who sustained the hotel came in, and when the case was laid before him he was cheerfully willing to divide. So we had much pleasant chat at table about St. Qeorgefs chief industry, the repairing of damaged ships ; and in between we had a soup that had something in it that seemed to tasts like the hereafter, but it proved to be only pepper of a particularly vivacious kind. And we had an iron-clad chicken that was deliciously cooked, but not in the right way. Baking was not the thing to convince his sort. He ought to have been put through a quartz mill until the * tuck ' was taken out of him, and then boiled till we came again. We got a good deal of sport out of him, but not enough sustenance to leave the victory on our side. No matter; we had potatoes and a pie and a sociable good time. Then a ramble thorough the town, which is a quaint one, with interesting, crooked streets, and narrow, crooked lanes, with here and there a grain of dust. Here, as in Hamilton, a ft i i--^fi I; BOMB RAMBLING NOTJBS OF the dwellings had Venetian blinds of a very Benaible pattern. They were not double shutters, hinged at the sides, but a single broad shutter, hinged at the top; you push it outward, from the bottom, and fasten it at any anj[le required by the sun or desired by yourself. 'Ail about the. island one sees great white scars on the hill-slopes. These are dished spaces where the soil has been scraped off and the coral exposed and glazed with hard whitewash. Some of these are a quarter-acre in fdze. They catoh and carry the rainfall to reservoii's ; for the wells are few and poor, and there are no natural springs and no b.*ooks. "^ They say that the Bermuda climate is mild and equable with neyer any snow or ice, and that one may be very comfortable in spring clothing the year round there. We had delightful and decided summer weather in May, with a flaming sun that permitted the thinnest of raiment, and yet there was a constant breeze ; consequently we were never dLe^omforted by heat. At four or five in the afternoon the mercury began to go down, and then it became necessary to change to thick garments. I went to St George's in the morning clothed in the thinnest of linen, and reached home at five in the afternoon with two overcoats on. The nights are said to be always cool and bracing. We had mosquito nets, and the Beverend said the mosquitoes persecuted him a good deal. I often heard him slapping and banging at these imaginary creatures with as much zeal as if they had been real. There are no mosquitoes in the Bermudas in May. The poet Thomas Moore spent several months In AN IDLE EXCURSION. Bormnda more than seventy years ago. He wan sent out to be registrar of the Admiralty. I am not quite 'iear ai to the function of a registrar of the Admiralty of Bermuda, but I think it if his duty to keep a record of all the admirals bom there. I will inquire into this. There was not much doing in admirals, and Moore got tired and went away. A reverently preserved souvenir of him is sUUl one of the treasures of the islands. I gathered the idea, vaguely, that it was a jug, but was persistently thwarted in the twenty-two efforts I made to visit it. However, it was no matter, for I found afterwards that it was only a chair. There are several ' sights ' in the Bermudas, of course^ but they are easily avoided. This is a great advantage — one cannot have it in Europe. Bermuda is the right country for a jaded man to ' loaf' in. There are no harass- ments ; the deep peace and quiet of the country sink into one's body and bones and give his conscience a rest, and diloroform the legion of invisible small devils that are always trying to whitewash his hair. A good many Americans go there about the fii'st of March and remain until the early spring weeks have finished their villanies at home. The Bermudians are hoping soon to have telegraphic oommunication with the world. But even after they shall have acquired this curse it will still be a good country to go to for a vacation, for there are charming little islets scattered about the enclosed sea where one could live secure from interruption. The telegraph boy would have to come in a boat, and one :x)uld easily kill him while he was making his landing. '1^ 80MS JUMBUNO NOTES OF We had spent four days in Bermuda — three bright ones out of doors and one rainy one in the house, we being dis- appointed about getting a yacht for a sail ; and now oar furlough was ended, and we entered into the ship again and sailed homeward. Among the passengers was a most lean and lank and forlorn invalid, whose weary look and patient eyes and sorrowful mien awoke every one's kindly interest and stirred every one's compassion. When he spoke — ^which was but seldom — there was a gentleness in his tones that made each hearer his friend. The second night of the voyage — we were all in the smoking-cabin at the time — he drifted, little by little, into the general conversation. One thing brought on another, and so, in due course, he happened to Ml into the biographical vein, and the following strange narrative was the result. f^ THB invalid's BTDBT.^ I seem sixty and married, but these e^ts are due to my condition and sufferings, for I am a bachelor, and only forty-one. It will be hard for you to believe that I, who am now but a shadow, was a kale, hearty man two short years ago--a man of iron, a very athlete ! — ^yet such is the simple truth. But straHger still than this fact is the way in which I lost my health. I lost it through helping to take care of a box of guns on a two-hundred-mile railway journey one . * Left out of these ' Rambling Notes,' when originally published in the Atlantic Monthly, becanse it was feared that the story was not trae, and at that time there was no way of proving that it was &ot.->-M. T. 'i f ►' AS IDLE EXCURSION, 80 winter's night. It is the aictaal truth, and I will tell yoa about it. I belong in Cleveland, Ohio. One winter's night, two years ago, I reached home just after dark, in a driving snow-storm, and the first thing I heard when I entered the house was that my dearest boyhood friend and schoolmate, John B. Haokett, had died the day before, and that his last uiteranoe had been a desire that I would take his i^mains home to his poor old father and mother in Wisconsin. I was greatly shocked and grieved, but there was no time to waste in emotions ; I must start at once. I took the card, marked ' Deacon Levi Hackett, Bethlehem, Wisconsin/ and hurried off through the whistling storm to the railway- station. Arrived there I found the long white^pine box which had been described to me ; I fastened the card to it with some tacks, saw it put safely aboard the express oar^ and then ran into the eating-room to provide myself with a sandwich and some dgars. When I returned, presently, there was my coffin-box hack ctgaiUf apparently, and a yoimg fellow examining around it, with a card in his hand, and some tacks and a hammer ! I was astonished and puf!:ded. He began to nail on his card, and I rushed out to the ex- press car, in a good deal of a state of mind, to ask for an explanation. But no — there was my box, all right, in the express car; it hadn't been disturbed. [The fact is that without my suspecting it a prodigious mistake had been made. I was carrying off a box of guru which that young fellow had come to the station to ship to a rifle company hi Peoria, Illinois, and he had got my corpse !] Just then the conductor sung out ' i^il aboard,' and I jumped into tht hi IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) k 4E rA 1.0 I.I 1.25 M 125 mm 1^ ^ 1^ 12.0 I; i ii 6' V /] Photographic Sdences Corporation ^>^ 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. U580 (716) 872-4503 '^ ■'<v , it(r- ' J -5^ , -'S, ., ■* M- . 80M3B MAMBUNO NOTES OF wiyio i s oar >ad got a oomfbrtaUe Mat on a bale of biuMk Xhe flipi'wiinnm was there, hard at work — a plain man of fffyy with a iimple^ honest, goodrnatored &oo^ and a hreeqr» pnotioal heartiness in his general style. As the tnin roored off a stranger skipped into tiie car and set a..paokage of peculiarly mature and capable limbuzger cheese on one end of my coffin-box — I mean my box of guns* That m to say, I know fioi0 that it was limbnrger cheese^ but at that time I never had heard of the article in my life, and of course was wholly ignorant of its character. Well, we qped throu^^ the wild night, the bitter storm raged on, a cheerless misery stole over me, my heart went down, down, down I The did expTpesman made a brisk remark or two about the tempest and the aretio weather, slammed his sliding doors to^ and, bolted them, doeed his window down tight^ and then went bustling around, here and there and yonder, setting things to rights^ and all the time contentedly humming ' Sweet By • and-By,' in a low tone^ and flatting a good deaL ^Pjresantly I began to detect a most evil and searching odour stealing about on the frosen air. Thisdepreesedmyqaritsstfllmore^ because of course I attributed it to my poor departed friendi There was something infinitely laddening about his calliqg himself to my remembrance in this dumb pathetic way, so it was hard to keep the tears back. Moreover, it distreeaed me on account of the old expressman, who, I was afiaidp nii^t iiotice it. However, he went humming tranquilly on, and gave no sign; and for this I was grateful. Qrate- lul, yee^ but stlU uneaey ; a^a soon I began to leel more and mora uneasy every minute^ fsx evety minute that went by that odour thickened up the more, and got to be more and \ •m- AK IDLE XXCftTJtSIOm 9 ' >' gMDMy and haid to tkmL Fntently, liATiiig gol thing* arranged to hii aatitikctiop, the eipreiiman got eonM wood and made up a tramendous fire in his stova This distreiaed me more than I oan tell, for I oonld not hat ftel that it was a mistake. I waa sore that the eflfect woold he ddeterions upon my poor departed friend. Thompson— 4he expressman's name was Thompson, as I firond out in the eoorse of the night-~now went pohing around his oar, ■tq>ping up whateYor stray craoks he could find, remarking that it didn't make any difibrenoe what kind of a night it was outsidA, he oalodlated to make ut eomfbrtahle, anyway. I said nothing, hot I heliefed he waa not choosing the right way. Meantime he was hamming to himself just as hefore; and meantime, too^ th^ sto^e was getting hotter and hotter, and the plaoe doeer and doser. I felt myself growing pale and qualmish, hut grieved' in sllenee and (hlI nothing. Soon J noticed that the < Sweet By-and-By ' was gctdually &ding out; nest it ceased altogethor, and there was an ominous stillness. After a few moments Thompson said— - *Kewl I reckon it ain't no einnamon *t Tto loaded up thish-yer store with 1 ' ^ He gasped once or twice, then moved toward the oof— gun^hoK, stood over that limhuiger cheeee part of a moment, then came hack and sat down near me, looking a good deal impressed. Aiftsr a oonteniplative pauss^ he said, indioatinf the hoz with a gesture-^ *]Mendofyoamt' < Tee,' I said with a sigh. ' He's pretty ripe, oMi'l he t ' for perhaps a ooople of minutes^ 80NLB EAMBUNQ NOTJBS OF •Mh being bo^ with his own thoqgliti; tlimi Tbompm tM, in A low, awed Toio^^ ' SometimeB it's unoertain whether thigrVe really gone fit iiot--M0fft gone, you know — body warai, jointi limber and •Oy althongh you think they're gone^ yon dont really know. I'?e had cases in my oar. It's perfectly awful, beoos yon dont know what minute theyll rise rij^t np and look at you 1 ' Then, after a pause, and slightly lifting his elbow toward the box — * But h0 ain't in no tnnce 1 No, sir, I go bail for iktml' We sat some time, in meditative silenoe^ listeioing to the wind and the roar of the train ; then Diompeon said, with a good deal of feeling — ' Well-a-well, we've all got to go^ they aint no getting around it. Man that is bom of woman is of few days and far between, as Scriptur' says. Yes, you look at it any way you want to, it's awAil solemn and our'us : they aint nobodff can get around it; aff$ got to go— just nawybody, as you may wkj. One day you're heaoiy and strong' — ^here he scrambled to hisfeet and broke a pane and stretched his nose out at it a moment or two, then sat down again while I struggled up and thrust my nose out at the same plaoe^ and this we kept on doing every now and then — ^'and next day he's mt down like the grass, and the places which knowed him then knows him no more for erer, as Seriptur* iays. Yes-'ndeedy, it's awful solemn and dir'us; but we^TO all gol to go, one time or another ; they aint no getting around il' There was another long pause i then— 'What did he die off ^ Isaidldi^i'tknow. mi 4Jr XDLS SXCUMSIOM. f y ' How long, has ha btn datd t ' It leemed judioioiii to onlaige tho fiusto to fit tho pcdbi^ liUiti«;iolMdd^ 'Two or tbren dftyi.' But it did no good; ibrllioiiiiMKm veoeiTBdit with to ia- Jured look whidi plainly said, 'Two or three yean, yon mean." Then he went right along^ placidly ignoring my statement^ and gare his views at considerable length upon tho nnwiadom of putting off burials too kxngp Then ho lounged off toward the box, stood a moment^ then oamo back on s sharp trot and visited the broken pane, oboerr- ' ^Twould V ben s dum sight better, all aroond, if they'd started him along last summer/ ThompsoQ sat down and buried his fiuse in his ted silk handksrbhief, and began to slowly sway and rook his body like one who is doing his best to enduro the almost unan"* duraUei By this time the fragranoo— >if you may call it fiRBgranoe — ^was just about suffocating, as near as you can come at it^ Thompson's fiusewas turning grey; I knew mine hadn't any colour left in it By-andrby Thompson rested his forehead in his idt hand, with his elbow on his knee, and sort of waved his red handkerohief toward the boK with his other hand, and said — ' I've carried a many aone of 'emr-HK>me of 'em consider- able overdue^ too— but» lordy, he just lays over 'em all 1— and doesiteoiy. Oa^, they was heUotrope to Atm 1 ' This recognition of my poOT friend gratified m^ in spite of the sad oiimmirtnnces. beoause it had so muioh tho sound ^a comnlimsnt. :■ 7 SOMM MAMBUare NOTES OF l^n/ttj looo it was plain tM ■omBihing had got to be dona. I saggtiled cigaxi. TlioiiipaoD thought it waa a good idea. He said— « likelj H 01 modify him Mma.' We puffed giiigerly along fiir a wldle^ and tried hard to imagine that thinga weie unproved. But it wasnt any fam» Before v9kj long, and without any oonsnltation, both oigaia were quietly dropped from our nenrelees fingera at the aame' moment. Tbompaon said with a righ — ' No, Gap., it don't modify him worth a oent* Faotis, it makee him worse^ beoua it appears to stir up his ambition. What do you reckon we better do, now t' I waa not able to suggest anything; faideed, I had to be swallowing and swallowing, all the time, and did not like to trust myself to speal^. Thompson fbU to maondering, in a <. desultory and low-spiiited way, about the miserable oxpe- liences of this night; and he got to referring to my poor friend by Tarious titles — sometimes military oneSy sometimei stTil ones; and I noticed that as frsl as my poor friend's effwti>«Qess grew, Thompson promoted him accordingly— gave him a bigger title. Finally he said — ' rve got an idea. Suppos'n' we buckle down to it and gi^ the Oolonel a bit off a shove towards t'othfnr end of the oarf---About ten foot, say. He wouldn't have so much in- fiuenoe^ ^Mn, do^t you reck^m t ' I said it was a good schimie. So we took in a good fresh breath at the broken pane^ calculating to hold it till we got through; then we went there and bent down over that deadly dieese and took a gr^ on the bos. Thompson nodded * AH ready,' and then we threw oursslves fbrwiri do H fai he roi he np if mi a-g lea he dbo shu atl awi Thi dor the 1^ \ . Air IDLB sxcunaion. n wHh an ovr inii^ft; bill lliompton dipped, and diimped down with his noM on the eheeee^ and hie breath got looee. Hie 8H(8^ *Bd gasped, and floundered up and made a bieak for ^ door, pawing the air and laying hoanely, ' Don^ hender me) — gimme the roadl Vm ardying; gimme the road I' Ont on the cold phttlbrm I eat down and held hit head a while, and he rerived. Treaently he said-^ < Bo yon reckon we atarted the Qen'ml any t ' I laid no; we hadn't bodged him. 'Well, then, Ihat idea's np the flume. Wegot to think up something else. He's suited wher^ he is, I reckon ; and if that's the way he feels abont it^ and has made np his mind thai he don't wish to be disturbed, you bet you he's a-going to hate his own way in the bwdneas. Tes, better leaw> him right wher' he i% long as he wants it so; beens he holds all the trumps^ don't yon know, and so it stands to reason thai the man thai lays out to alter his plans for him is g(»ng to get left.' But we couldn't stay out there in that mad storm ; we diould haye frosen to death. So we went in again and shut the door, and began to suflbr once more and take turns ai the break in the window, ^y-and-by, as we were stnrtuig^ away from a station where we had stof^ied a moment^ Thompson pranced in cheerily, and ezolaimed — 'We^ aU vic^t^ now ] I reckon we've got Uw Commo* dore this time. I judge I've got the stuff here thatll take the tttok out of him.' li was carbolic add. He had a ok^hoj of it He aU around qpriidded everywhere: eiveiTthinf witl it^ rifla-boi, cjoese^ and alL Then we sal \ BOMB MAMBLIKO irOTSB OW down, Ming pretty hopeAiL But it wMnt fear long. Ton i|0 tfaid two peiAimM ^egui to mix, and thon — well, pL«tlj •obn wo niftds a break for tho door $ and out there llio'itipoon •wabbed bia fiuw with bia bandanna and eaid in a kind ol diaheartened way-* 'It aint no uao. Wo can't back agin him. He Jnat nfflieee ererything we put up to modify him with, and givea it hia own flayour and playa it baok on us. Why, Gap., don't you know, it's as muob aa a hundred times wotm in there now than it was when he first got argoing. I nerer did see one of 'em warm up to his work so, and take such a dumnation interest in it. No, sir, I never did, as long aa Tto ben on the road; and Tto carried a many a one U 'cm, as I was telling yon.' We went in again, after we were froien pretty stiff ; but my, we couldn't ttay in, now. So we jusf. waltaed back and fbrth, fi«edng, and thawing, and stifling, by turns. In about an hour we stopped at another station ; and as we !aft it Thompson came in witb a bag, and said — 'Gap., I'm a-going to chance him once more— just this once; and if we dont fetch him this time, the thing for us to do, is to junrt throw up the sponge and withdraw fbom the canTsss. Tb&t^s {ihe way / put it up.' He had Iffought a lot of chicken feathers, and dried a|»ples, and leaf tobacco, and rags, and did shoee^ and sul- phur, and assBfiBtid% and one thing or another; and ha piled them on a breadth of sheet iron in the middle oi the floor, and set flre tt> them. When they got well started, I oouldnt see^ myseli^ how ^^en the corpse oonld stand it. AH that went belbre was Just sim^ poetiy to that smaU-M i t M mind jm^ th* (Mrighua UMa itood itp out €f fi Jott M MtblimeM eTfr-.&ot ii, tk«ie otliar smtUi Jvnt Mmtd to give it 6 better hold; and my, lioir rich it wmI I didnl main theie refleotioiui there— there irAen't time— nuide tl nm on the pletfarm. And brcAkiiig for the pUtform, ThompeoA got fofiboated and fell; end beforo I got him dimgged oat, which I did by the collar, I wm mighty near gone mjaelt • When we rerived, Thompeon aaid d^tedly-^ 'We got to stay out here, Gap. Wegottodoit. They ain't no other way. The Governor wante to trayel alone^ and he's fixed so he can outvote us.' And presently he added-~ 'And don't you know, we're pitimad. It^a our last trip, you can makeup your mind to it l^phoid fever is what's going to come of thia I feel it a-coming right now. Tei^ sir, we^re elected, just as sure as you're bom.' We were taken from the platferm an hour kter, frossn and insensibly at the next station, and I went straight off into a virulent fever, and never knew anything again fer three weeks, i found out, then, that I had spent that awful night with a harmleas box of rifles and a lot of innocent cheese; but the news was too late to save nic, i^'^kHm had done its work and my health was pemianently shat* \te«d; neither Bermuda nor any other Umd can ever bring It back lo me. Thi3 is my lasc tnp; I am on my way hcmetodis. We made th^ run, home to New York quarantine fa three days and five hours, and could have gone right aloug iq» to the ci^ if w^% had had a health permit But health #■: :^£d mum MAMBUim mrMf of \ /" ptmiU U9 uii gra&ied aAtr mtvo bt tlit vfmAng, pfivtly btOMH* a ili^ aMmoi b« IsipeeM and OTwliaiilad wHh •>• IwiMliiT* thorooi^iiflif ouMpi in dayKgbt, and partly btoania baalth atto&n ai« liable to oitoh cold if Uibj eoqpoft thMn- itlm lo tlM ni|[lit air. Still, jon omi (ny a pormit dtflr homni for fiva dollan aztra, and tha ofioar will do tha io^ qpoctiug naxt waak. Oar ihip and panengan laj iindir aipanie and in humiliating oaptivitj all night, under tha Tflry noM of the little ollBoial reptile who is eiippooed to pro- tect New York from peetiknoB hy lue vigilant 'inepestioni.' This inqMsing rigour gave ererybody a eoleinn and awful idea of the benefloent watchfalnegg of our govenunant, and there were mme who wondered if anything ihiflr oonld ba fomid in other eotintriM. In tha morning we were all. a-tiptoe to witneai tha intricate ceremony of inqieoting the ihip. But it wee a diaappointing thing. The health ofllcer^a tog ranged along- aide for a moment, our puraer handed the lawf ol three4oUar permit foe to the health oSBoet^B bootblack, who paaaed ua a folded paper in a forked atiek, and away we went. Tha enttie 'inspection' did not oooapy thirteen aeconda. The health officer^a place ie worth a hundred thooaand doUare a year to him. Hia ayeOein of inspection is perfcot^ and therefore cannot be improved on ; bat It seema to » la that his qrstem of cdleoting his foaa might be amended. S\or a great ahip to lie idle all night is a moatooatly kes of time; for her paasengers to have to do the same thing woiks to them the same da|nage, with the addition of an ammmt of exasperation and bUtemeaa of aool that the epectade of thai /' AM miM MxovMMiam iMiMli oiie6r^ ftihar on a diovtl «iiiU huitf Now why would H not be better and rimplar to lit tiM dbiiN (Mi in nnmolorted, tad th« ftei ttnd penniti bo aohongod ono»»|Oirt^|Niiti tho THE FACTS CONCERNING THE RECENT CARNIVAL OF CRIME IN CONNECTICUT. I WAS feding UithA, almoit Joonnd. I put % matoh to mj cigar, and Juat theii the mormng's mail was handed in. Tha first supennription I glanced at was in a handwriting that sent a thrill of pleasure through and through me. It was Aunt Marjr^s; and she was the person I loved and honoured most In all the world, outside of my own household. She had been my boyhood's idol; maturity, which is &tal to so many enchantments, had not been able to dislodge her from iier pedestal ; no, it had only Justified her right to be there^ and placed her dethronement permanently among the im- possibilities. To show how strong her influence over me was, I will obsenre that long after eyerybody elsQ^s '<2o-etop> smoMng' had ceased to affect me in the slightest degree, Aunt Mary could stiU stir my torpid consdence into faint signs of life when she touched upon the matter. But all things have their limit, in this world. A happy day came at last, when eren Aunt Mary's words could no longer moye I was not merely glaJ to see that day arriTC ; I was than glad — ^I was gratefol; for when its sun had ssl^ !;:■- ,- OMtMM IM COMJfJBCTICUT. Mm om aUoj thai wm abU lo nwr mj fl^joymtiit ^^ mj aunt'i tofllety was gima. TIm ramaindar of bar itajr with ua that winter waa In vrmj way a dalight Of ooursa iha plaaded with ma jvat aa earnaatfy aa aTer, afker that blfl—d day, to quit 1117 parnidoui habit^ but to no pnrpofa what* awr ; the momant iha openad tha mljeot I at onoa beoamt oahnly, paaeiAiUy, oontentadly iadiflforent — abfolutaly» ada- mantinely indiflbrant Ooniequently tha dodng weeks of that memorable visit melted away aa pleaaantly aa a dream, they ware lo freighted, for me^ with tranquil latia&otion, I eould not have ei\|oyed my pet vioe more if my gen^ tormentor had been a smoker herself^ and an advocate of the praotice. Well, the sight of her handwriting reminded me that I waa getting yery hungry to see her again. I easily guessed what I should find in her letter. I opened it. Good 1 Just aa I OTipeoted ; she was oomingl Coming this ▼ar^ day, too, and by tha morning train ; I might expect iMr any moment. I said to myself, ' I am thoroughly happy and content, ■ow. If my moat pitiless enemy flould appear before me at this moment, I would freely right any wrong I may have dona him.' Stftii^tway the door opened, and a ahrivelled, shabby dwarf enteredo He was not mora than two feet high. He seemed to be about forty years old. Every feature and every in^ of himwaaatriilaoutofahape; and so, while one could not put his finger upon any particular part and say, < This is % oeoipionons deformity,' the spectator perceived that thJa Uttle person was a deformity as a whole^a vague, general, fFenly blmded^ nicely acQusted deformitv. ^Diere waa a / TMB MMVjiNT CARNIVAI. OF / ■■ foodika omming in the fiMse and tiie sharp Uttla «fBs» and also alertness and malioe. And yet, this vile Ut of hnmaB nibbiah aeek^ed to bear a sort of remote and ill-defined v^* semhlAnoe to me t It was dully peroeptiUe in the mean fbrm, the oountenanoe, and even the olotbeS| geito«% manner, and Attitudes of the creature. He was a ikr- fetched, dbn suggestion of a burlesque upon me, a oarioatuve of me in little. One thing about him struck me fordbly, and most unpleasantly : he was ooTsred all over with a fiiBzy, greenish mould, such as one sometimes sees upon mildewed bread. The sight of it was nauseating. Ho stepped along with a chipper airi and flung himself into a doll's chair in a very free and easy way, without waiting to be asked. He tossed his hat into the waste basket. H3 picked up my old chalk pipe from the floor, gave the stem a wipe m> two on his knee, flUed the bowl from the tobacoo-boz at his side, and said to me in a tone of pert command — ' Oimme a match I ' - I blushed to the rooti of my hair ; partly with indigna- tion, but mainly because it somehow seemed to me that this whole performance was very like an exaggeration of con- duct which I myself had sometimes been guilty of in my interoourae with familiar friends — ^but never, never with strangers, I observed to myiielf. I wanted to kick the pigmy into the fire, but some incomprehensible nense of being legaUy and legitimately under his authority forced me to obey his order. He applied the match to the pipe, took a contemplative whiff or two, and remarked, in an irritatingiy fiuniliar waj^- iiT. CBma IN COVNSOTiCt/T. Pbiwnito me itl deriliib odd wwtlier for thk time of I flushed again, and in anger and humiliation as before; for the ]an( .age wae hardly an exaggeration of some that I have uttered in my day, and moreoyer wasdeliyered ina tone ''of voice and with an exasperating drawl that had the seeming of a deliberate travesty of my styla Now there is nothing I am quite so sensitive about as a mocking imitation of my drawling infirmity of speech. I spoke up sharply and said, < Look here, you miserable ash-cat 1 you will have to give a little more attention to your manners, or I will throw you out of the window 1 ' The manikin smiled a smile of malicious content and security, puffed a whiff of smoke contemptuously toward me, and said, with a still more elaborato drawl — y * Oome — go gently, now ; don't put on too many airs with your betters.' This cool snub rasped me all over, but it seemed to sub* jugate me, too, for a moment. The pigmy contemplated me awhile with his weasel eyes, and then said, in a peculiarly sneering way — * Tou tum'^ a tramp away from your door this morning.' I said xarustily-^ ' Perhaps I did, perhaps I didn't. How do you know f ' ' Well, I know. It isn't any matter how I know.' ' Very well. Suppose I did turn a tramp away from the €oor — whatofitr 'Oh, nothing; nothing in particular. Only you lied to nim.^ 'IdidnHl That is, I * 1<I0 TJOX MSCJSNT CAMifrrAL OF y-r ' Yes, butyoa did ^ you lied to hSM.' IllBlt a guilty pang^in tnith I had felt H forty timet before thai, tramp bad travelled a block from iny door— bat •^11 1 reBolyed to make a ihow of feeling alandered; no I < 'Thisieabaselesaimpertiiieikoe. I Siiid to the tnunp-— — ^ * There— wait. Ton were about to lie again. / know what you said tahim. Tou said the oook was gone down town and there was nothing left from breakfast Two lies. Tou knew the cook was behind the door, and plenty ol provisions behind Atfr.' This astonishing aocuraoy sQenoed me ; and it filled me with wondering speculations, too, as to how this cub could have got his information. Of course he could have culled the conversation from the tramp, but by what sort of magic had ue contrived to find out about the concealed cook f Now the dwarf spoke again — ' It was rather pitifbl, rather small, in you to refrise to read that poor young ^roman's manuscript the other day, and give her an opinion as to its literary value; andshe had eome soBtr, too, and to hopefully. Now, watnH itt' Ifidt likeacurl And I had felt so every time the thing had recurred to my mind, I may as well oonfess. I flushed hotly and said — 'Look here, have you nothing better to do tiiaa prowl around prying into other people's business t Did that girl teU you that!' « * Never mind whether she did or not. The main thing is, you did that contemptible thing. And you felt of it afterwards. Aha ! you feel ashamed of it note J ' I cniMB nr comrjscTicxrt. im i responded— 'I^told that girl, in the kindest, gentlest way, that I eonld not consent to deliTerjodgment upon any one's manu- script, because an indiyidual's yerdiot was worthless. It ndglit underrate a work of high merit and k)se it to tho world, or it might oTenate a trashj Ukrodaotion and so open the way for its inaction upon HSI^e world. I said that the great public was the only tribunal competent to sit in judg^ ment upon a literary effort, and therefore it must be beet to lay it before that tribunal in the outset, since in the end it must stand or fiOl by that mighty court's decidon any way,' 'Yes, you said aU that. So you did, you juggling, small- souled shuffler I And yet wh«i the happy hopeftilness &ded out rf that poor giri's &oe^ when you saw her furtively sUp beneath her shawl the scroll she had so padently and honestly scribbled ai-«o ashamed of her darling now, so proud of it before— when you saw the gladness go out of her eyes and the tears come there^ when she crept away so humbly who had come so ' *0h, peace! peace! peace! Blister your mercUesi tongue, haven't aU these thought tortured me enough, without 3«mr wming here to fetch them back againt' Bemorse! remorse! It seemed to me tiiat it would eat the very heart out of me ! And yet that small fiend only sat there leering at me with joy and contempt, and pUusidly chuckling. Presentiy he began to speak again. Every sen- tence was an acousaHon, and eveiy accusation a truth. Bwry danse was freighted with sarcasm and derision, emy lOM TBB RSCBNT CAMNIVAL OF I * ■low-dropping word burned like Titariol. Hie dwaif r» minded me of timee when I had flown at my children in anger and poniahed them he fibtdta which a KtUe inquiry would have taught me that others, and not they, had com- mitted. He reminded me of how I had dialoyally allowed old friends to be traduced in my hearing, and been tooGraren to utter a word in their defence. He reminded me ctf many diahonoBt things which I had done ; of many which I had procured to be done by children and other irresponsible persons; of some which I had planned, thought upon, and longed to do, and been kept from the performance by fiaar of consequences only. With exquisite omelty he recalled to my mind, item by item, wrongs and unkindnesses I had inflicted and humiliations I had put upon friends since dead, 'who died thinking of those injuries, maybe, snd grieving over tiiem,' he added, by way of poison to the ■tab. ' , * For instance,' said he, ' take the case of your younger brother, when you two were boys together, many a long year ago. He always lovingly trusted in yon with a fidelity that your manifiild treacheries were not able to shake. He followed you about like a dog, content to suffer wrong and abuse if he might only be with you ; patient under these injuries so long as it was your hand that inflicted them. The latest picture you have of him in health and strength must be such a comfort to you 1 Ton pledged yova honour that if he would let you blindfold him no harm should com9 to him; and then, giggling and choking over the rare fun of the joke, you led him to a bro^k thinly glaie<) with, ice, and pushed him in; and hoiryon did knghl .Man, you atms m commcrjcur. 1041 rp nercr fttgeb the gantie, r«proMlifiil look lie gKf joom be etnsgg^ liiivering ont^ if 7011 Uve a thomend yeunl Oho ! 70a sae it now, yen see it nowV * BeMt» I hft^ seen it e miUion timee, ead ahftU iee it » miUion more I and may 70a rot away piooemeel, and soffiv tiil doom8da7 what I suffer now, for bringing it back to me egeint' The dwarf chnckled oontaitedl7, and went on with bis eoooalng bistoc7 of m7 career. I dropped into a mood7, ▼engeful state, and snffined in silence mider the meroi]«Mi lesh. At hut this remark of bis gaire me a sodden the < I'wo months ago, on a Tae8da7, 70Q w<^ np, awa7 in the night, and fell to thinking^rwith sbame^ abont a peeii- liari7 ibean and pitiful act of 7onrs toward a poor ignorant Indian in iiie wildji of the Bocky Mountains in the winter of eighteen hundred and ' ^ ' Stop a moment, devil 1 Stop t Bo 7on mean to tell me that even m7 veiy thoughU are not hidden from 700! ' 'It s^ems to look like that. Didn't yon think tl thoughts I have just mentioned t ' * If I didn% I wish I ma7 never breathe again 1 Look here, friend — ^look me'in the eye. Who are you t ' ' Well, who do you think t * * 1 think you are Satan himselt I think you are tbe devil' •No.' ' Not Then who eon you bef ' 'Would you really like to know f •/fuiMIwould.' ^ A *^h. ■IS¥ •r-:?^: ■'7-lW i f" 101 TMB RECBNT CABmVAl' OF < WeU, I un your (7MJOMII00 r In Ml initaat I WM in a blase of joy wxd ^nvittMim, 1 iprang at the ereatnre, roaring — 'Ouno yoQy I have wished a hundred million times thai yoa were tangible^ and that I oonld get ray hands on your throat onoel (Hi, bat I will wreak a deadly Tengeano** on ' Folly 1 Lightning does not move more qiiiekly than my Conscienoe did !* He darted aloft so suddenly that in the moment my fingers dutohed tho empty air he was already perched on the top of the high look-caaOi with his thumb at oifl nose in token of derision. I 4img the poker at him, end missed. I fired the bootjack. In a blind rage I flew from place to place, and snatched and hurled any missile that came handy; the storm of h^oks, inkstands, and chunks of coal gloomed the air and beat about the manikin's perch relentlessly, but all to no purpose ; the nimble figure dodged 0very shot; and not only that, but burst into a cackle of saniastio and triumphant kughter as I sat down exhaustdd. While I puffed and gasped with &tigue and excitement, my Ckmsdenoe talked to this effect — \ My good slave, you are curiously witless — no, I mean characteristically so. In truth, you axe always consistent^ ^ways yourself, always an ass. Otherwise it must have occurred to you that if you attempted tins murder with a sad heart and a heavy conscience, I would droop under the burdening influence instantly. Fool, I should have weighad a ton, and could not have budged from the floor; but insi»ad, you are so cheerfully anadous to kill me that your conscience \s as light as a feather ; hence I am away up here out d your cniMs IN comrBCTwxrT. IM ■ft the iMflh. I OHD almoit vespeol a niHV oHinaijiottoir Ibol; Imt i^oif— pAh I ' I would haT8 giToi anything, then, to be heATy-hearted, ■0 that I could get this person down from there and take his lilie, bat I ooold no more be heayy-hearted over saeh a desire than I oonld hare sorrowed over its aooomplishment. So I ooold only look longingly up at my master, and rayeat the ill-lttok that denied me a heavy oonaoienoe the one only time that I had ever wanted each a thing in my ^. By* and-by I got to mosing over the hoards strange adventure^ and of ooozse my hnman entioeity began to work. I set myself to framing in my mind some questions for this fiend to answer. Jnst then one of my boys entered, leaving the door open behind him, and ezolaimed — ' My 1 what hat been going on, heret The bookcsse is all one riddle of * I sprang np in consternation, and shonted— <Oat of this 1 Hunyl Jumpl Slyl Shutthedoor! Quick, or my OonsoieoDce will get away I ' The door slammed to, and I lodked it I glsnoed up and was grateftil, to the bottom of my hearty to see that my owner- was still my prisoner, issid — ' Hang you, I might have lost you 1 Ohildren are the heedlessest creatures. But look here, friend, the boy did not seem to notioe you at all ] how is Uiat t ' 'For a very gdiDd reason. I am invisible to all but you.' I made mentd note of that piece of information with a good deal of satisfiMstion. I could kill this miscreant now, if I got a chance^ and no one would know it. But this very reflection made me so light>hearted that my Conscience could npr BMcsmr CAnmvAi or hardl J keep hit aeat^ but wis like to fUmt aloft toward the eelliiig like a 4(^ balloon. I aaid, preeently— ^ 'Oosce, my Comijieiioe, let ns be friendly. Let lu Ity a flag df truce for a wbHe. I am suffering to ask you aoma queations.' * Very well Begin.' 'Well, then, in the first plaoe^ Hrhy were you never visible to me before 1 ' ^Beoaufie yon nover asked to see me befjro; thkt is, you never asked in the right lipirit and the projsir form beforo. You were just In the li^t spbit this ti^ne, and when you called for your most pitiless enemy I was that person by a very huge mi^rity, though you did not suspect it.' * Well, did that remark of mine turn yi into flesh and blood t' * No. It only made me visible to you, I am unsub- stantial, just a^ other spirits are.' This remark prodded me with a sharp misgiving. If he was unsubstantial, how was I going to kill him. But I dis- sembled, and said persuasively — < Consdenoe, it isn't sociable of yon to keep at such a dis- tance. CSome down and take another smoke.' This was answered with a look that was full of derision, and with tiiis observation added—* ' Come where you can get at me and kill me t The invi- tation is declined with thanks.' 'All right,' said I to myself; «so it seems aspirit can be killed after all; tix^rep^will be one spirit lacking in this world presently, or I kise my guess.' Then I said aloud— 'Friend ' OBIXB IB vommcTicvT. w ' Tbtve ; w»it a bit. I un not your ftien^ I am your onemy; I am not your equal, I am y<mr master. Odl me " my iocd," if yoQ p&ease. Tea are too fitmiliar.* '* I don't like Buoh titles. I em willing to eall y«m dr. Tliat is as £tf m ' ' We will haye no aigument about this. Juitobey; that is all. Qo on with your chatter.' ' Very well, my lord — sinoe nothing bat my lord will soit yon — \ wau going to ask yon how long you will be visible to mel' 'Always I' I broke out with strong indignation : ' This is simply an outrage. That is what I thmk of it. Tou have dogged, and dogged, and dogged me, all the days of my life, in* /isible. That was misery enough; not/ to have such a looking thing as you tagging after me like another shadow all the re^t of my days is an intolerable prospect. Tot have my opinion, my lord ; make the most of it.' ' My lad, there was never so pleased a oonsdience In this world as I was when you made me visible. It givee me an inconceivable advantage. iToto, I can look you straight in the eye, and call you names, and leer at yon, jeer at you, sneer at you; and ycu know what eloquence tfiere is in visible gesture and expression, more especially when the dfeot is heightened by audiUe speech. I shall always ad- dress yon henceforth in your o-v-n i^n-i-v-e-1-l-i-n-g d-r-a-w-l --baby I' I let fly with tl^e -coal-hod. No result. My lord said— * Oome, come I Eemember the flag of truce ! ' * Ah, I fisrfot that I wiU try to b« civil; and ywk try •'t\ TBS MMCBNT CAMNIVAL OF lit. ic<o^ fbr ft BOfdtj. The idoa of a eMl cofuwknflt. It it ft good join ; fta aacaUint Jdco. All the eoMoJopcw / hfttv OTor liciftrd of were nagging, badgering, liaiilt-llnding, exe- omble aftTages ! tiid alwftya in ft aweftt aboat some poor Utile inaigniiloaat kiile or other— deetruotion oatoh the lot of them, / say 1 I irould trade mine for the amftll-poK and seven kinds of oonmunption, and be glad of the ohanoe. No^ tell me, why tt it that a oonadenoe can't haul a man over the ooala onioe^ for an offence, and then let him alonet Why IB it that it wanta to keep on pegging at him, day and night and night and day, week in and week out^ for erer and oyer, about the same old thing t There is no senie in thati^ and no reason in it. I think a oon- floienoe that will act like th^t is meaner than the very dirt iteelll' < Well, «M like it ; that suffioea.' ' Bo you do it with the honest intent to improve a mant' That question produoed a sftroftstio smile, ftnd this reply— 'No, sir. Ezcuae me. We do it simply because it is <s bunness." It is our trada The pmtpon of it it to im- prove the man, but %o6 are merely disinterested agents. We are appointed by authority, and haven't anything to say in the matter. We obey orders and leave the oonsequencei w^ftwe they belong. But I am willing to admit this mudi : we ie crowd the orders a trifle when we get a chance^ wfa&di za most of the time. We ei\joy it. We are instmotod to remind a man a few times of an error ; and I don't miftd acknowledging that we try to give pretty good measore. OBOn IN COKNEOTICVT. 160 kxA when w% gai hold ofanui ofapMiilhurly MiMlti^t iMlQr% ohy b«t ir% do haie him I I h*To knofwn jwukAmiow lo oomo all the wtj from Ohhm end Rnmia to lee a penoa of that kind put through hie peoes, on a ipeciel oeBiiion. Why, I knew e men of thet lori who hed eeoidentelly crip- pled e mulatto baby; the newa went aljioad, and I wiah yoQ may nerer oommit another sin if the eopedenoee didnt flook from all over the earth to eqjoy the ftm and help hie master ezerdie him. fhat man walked the floor in torture Cmt forlj-eight houn[^ without eating or deeping, and then blew hie braine outb The child wee perfectly weU again in three weeka.' ' Well, yon are a preeioiie oiew, not to pat H too strong. I think I b^gin to see, now, why yon have always been a trifle ineonsistent with me. In your anziefy to get all the juioe you can out of a sin, you make a man repent of it in three or four diffisrent ways. For instanoe, you found frnlt with me for lying to that tramp, and I sufhred over that. But it was only yesterday that I told a tramp the square truth, to wit, that, it being regarded as bad oitiaen- ship to enoounge vagrancy, I would give him nothing. What did you do ikm\ Why, you made me say to myself, "Ah, it would have been so much kinder and more blame> less to ease him off with a little white lie, and send him away feeling that ?! he eould not have bread, the gentle treatment was s« least something to be grateful fort" WeU, I sufRared all day about Mot. Three days before, I had led a tramp, and fed him freely, supposing it a virtnona set. Btrai^t off you ssid, **0 false citisen,' to have fed a tnimpl" and I suffiared as usual. Igayeatramp IMI TBM jmaarr cAMmvAi of yoa ofcjifslcd to tt— 4|/l«r tlM mntemet wai mMb» of eoan»| foa novor qwik up tnHwehaiuL Kext» I ri^^iMil a timmp work; yw oljoeted to Mol. N«Et» I propoMd to kill a Inmp; yon kept am *w«ko oU night, ooring nmone ol o?«7 pore. Sure I wm goiiig to be right tki§ time, I aent the next tramp away with my benediction ; and I wish yon may live as k>Dg as I do, if yon didn't make me smart all night again beoanae I did«^t kill him. Is there any way of satisfying that malignant invention which is called a conscience 1' ' Ha, ha I this is luxury t Oo on 1 ' 'But come, now, answer me that question. 1$ there any way I ' ' Well, none that I propose to tell you, my son. Am I I don't care whuU act yon may turn your hand to, I can straightway whisper a word in your ear and make you think you have committed a dreadftil meanness. It is my 6fiMtM«»-~aad my joy— to make you repent of everything yon do. If I have fooled away any opportunities it was not intentional; I beg to assure you it was not inten- tional 1' 'Don't worry; you havent misRod a trick that /know oLl never did a thing in all my life, virtuous or other- wise, that I didn't repent of within twenty-four hours. In church last Sunday I listened to a charity sermon. My first impulse was to give three hundred and fifty dollars ; I repented of that and reduced it a hundred; repented (^ that and reduced it another hundred; repented of that and re- duced it another hundred; repented of that and reduced the ronudning fifigr to twenty-five; repented of that and oamo p -i' ^ ' CMiMM im comncTichT. Ill dbwB lo iftom; npmtad of that and droppod to two dolUn and a half; when the phUe oame round at ktt, I repented oooe more ard oontribated ten cents. Well, when I got home, I did wiah to goodnan I had that ten oenta back again 1 Yon never did let me get through a charity iDirmon without having something to sweat about' * Oh, and I never shall, I never shall. Ton can alwajt depend on me.' * I think so. Many and many's the restless night I've wanted to take you by the neck. If I could only get hold of you now!' ^ * Tes, no doubt But I am not an ass ; I am only the saddle of an ass. But go on^ go on. You entertain me more than I like to confess.' ' I am glad of that (You will not mind my lying a little, to keep in praistice.) Look here; not to be too per- sonal, I think you are about the shabfaiGst and most con- temptible little shrivelled-up reptile that can be imagined. I am grateful enough that you are invisible to other people, for I should die with shame to be seen with such a mil- dewed monkey of a conscience as you are. Now, if you were fkv^ or six feet high, and — -' ' Oh, come ! who is to blame! ' < / don't know.' * Why, you are ; nobody else.' * Confound you, I wasn't consulted about your persona! appearance.' ' I don't care, you had a good deal to do with it, nevei^ thflless. When you were eight or nine years old, I was seven ftet h^i^ and as pretty as a picture.* lit TWS MSCBNT CAJtmVAL OF *■ I wiah yoQ bad died young 1 So yoo have grown Um wrong way, have you t ' ^ ' Some of us grow one way and somo the other. Tou had a laxge conscience once ; if you've a small conscieiice now, I reckon there are reasons for it. However, both of us are to blame, you and I. Tou see, you used to be eon* sdentious about a great many things; morbidly so, I may' say. It was a great many years aga You {>rQbably do not remember it, now. Well, I took a great interest in my work, and I so eigoyed the anguish which certain pet sins of yours afflicted you with, that I kept pelting at you until I rather overdid the matter. Tou began to rebeL Of course I began to lose ground, then, and shrivel a little— diminiBh in stature, get mouldy, and grow deformed. The more I weakened, the more stubbornly you fastened on to those particular sins ; till at last the places on my person that represent those vices became as callous as shark skin. Take smoking, for instance. I played that card a little too long, and I lost. When peojde {>lead with you at this late day to quit that vice, that old callous place seems to enlaige and cover me all over like a shirt of maiL It exerts a mys- terious, smothering effect; and presently I, your faithful hater, your devoted Conscience, go sound asleep I Sound t It is no name for it. I couldn't hear it thunder at such a time. Tou have 'some few other vices — ^perhaps eighty, or maybe ninety — that a£Eect me in much the same way.' ' This is flattering ; you must be asleep a good part of your time.' ^Tes, of late yeank I should be askiep aU the time^ bal Cor the help I get' cnms nr connscticxft. lis * Who helps yoiit' 'Other ooDflcienoes.' Whenever a person whose oon- soienoe I am aoqnainted with tries to plead with yon about the vices yon are callons to, I get my friend to give his olient a pang oonceming some Tillany of his own, and that . shuts off his meddling and starts him off to hunt personal consolation. My 6«ld of usefulness is about trimmed down to tramps, budding authoresses, and that line of goods, now; but don't you worry — VH harry you on ifwm while they last I Just you put your trust in me.' > ( I think I can. But if yon had only been good enough to mention these &ots some thirty years ago, I should have turned my particular attention to sin, and I think that by this time I should not only have had you pretty perma- nently asleep on the entire list of human vices, but reduced to the size of a homoBopathic pill, at that. That is about the style <^ conscience / anji pining for. If I only had you ehrunk down to a homceopathio pill, and could get my bands on you, would I put you in a glass case for a keepsake t No, sir. I would give you to a ydlow 4og I That is where ywk ought to be — ^you and all your tribe. Ton are not fit to be in society, in my opinion. Now another question. Do you know a good many consdenoes in this section t ' < Plenty of them.' 'I would give anything to see some of themt * Could jrou bring them here 1 And would they be visible to me f ' < Certainly not.' / * I suppose I ought to have known that, without asking. But no matter; you can describe them. Tell me about my 1^B^|^bo^r Thompson's oooscienoe, please,,' . lU TMB JtBCSNT CAJtNIVAL OP 'Yaj well. I know him intimately; ha^ known liim many years. I knew him when he was elev«i feet hij^ and of a fitnltless figure. But he is very rusty and tough and misshapen now, and hardly ever interests himself about anything. As to his present sise — ^well, he sleeps in a cigar* box.* ' Likely enough. There are t&w smaller, meaner men in this region than Hu£^ Thompson. Do you know Rohin* son's oonsdeDoe t ' ' Yes. He is a shade under four and a half iM hi|^; used to be a blonde ; is a brunette now, but still shapely and oomely.' ' Well, Bobinaon is a good fellow. Do you know Tom Smith's oonsdenoe t ' * I have known him from childhood. He was thirteen inches high, and rather sluggish when he was two years old, as nearly all of mi are at that age. He is thirty-seven feet high now, and the stateliest figure in America. His legs are still racked with growing pains, but he has a good time, nevertheless. Never slec^ He is the most active and eneigetio member of the New England Conscience dub; is president of it. Night and day you can find iiim pegging away at Smith, panting with his labour, deeves rolled up, countenance all alive with ex^joyment. He has got his victim splendidly dragooned now. He can make poor Smith imagine that the most innocent little thing he does is an odious sin ; and then he sets to work and almost tortures the soul out of him about it' ' Smith is the noblest man in all this section, and the purest, and yet Is always breaking his heart because 1 ■ CEIMB IN CONNXCTICtrr. m idtlM cannot be good ! Only a oonadenoe eould find pleasure in beaping agony upon a q>urit Uke that. Do you know my aunt Mary's consdenoe % ' ' I have seen her at a distanoe, but luoi not acquaint^ with her. She lives in the (^)en air altogether, because no door is large enough i^ admit her.' <I can belieye that. Let me see. Do you know the ' eonsdenoe of that publisher who once stole some sketches of mine for a '' series " of his, and then left me to pay the law expenses I had to incur in order to choke him off t ' ' Tes. He has a wide &me. He was exhibited^ n month ago, with some other antiquities, for the benefit of a recent Member of the Oabinet's eonsdenoe that was starving in exile. Tickets and fiures were high, but I travelled for nothing by pretending to be the oonsdence of an editor, and got in for half-price by representing myself to be the oon- sdence of a dergyman. However, the publisher's oonsdence^ whidi was to have been the main feature of the entertain- ment, was a failurd— eis an exhibition. He was there, but what of that t The management had provided a microscope with a magnifjring power of only thirty thousand ditimeteis, and so nobody got to see him, after all. There was great and general dissatisfaction, of course ; but—-— ' Just here there was an eager footstep on the stair ; X opened the door, and my aunt Mary burst into the room. It was a joyful meeting, and a cheery bombardment of ques- tions and answers concerning family matters ensued. By- •nd-by my aunt said — * But I am going to abuse you a little now. You pro mised me, the^y I saw you last^ that ^u would look after 116 THB nscBNT cahnivaz or the needs of the poor fiunilj around the comer as fhathAilly as I had done it myself. Well, I found oat by aooideiii that you failed of your promise. Wa$ that right t ' In simple truth, I never had thought of that fiumly a Bocond time I And now such a splintering pang of guilt shot through me 1 I glanced up at my Conscience. Plainly, my heavy heart was affecting him. His body was drooping forward ; he seemed about to fidl from the book-case. My aunt ccmtinued — ' And think how you have neglected my po(»r protigie at the almshouse, you dear, hard-hearted promise-breaker 1 ' I blushed scarlet, and my tongue was tied. As the sense of my guilty negligence waxed sharper and stronger, my Con- science began to sway heavily back and forth ; and when my aunt, after a little pause, said in a grieved tone, 'Since you never omse went to see her, maybe it will not distress you now to know that that poor child died, months ago, utterly friendless and forsaken V my Conscience could no longer beer up under the weight of my sufferings, but tumbled headlong from his high perch and struck the floor with a dull, leaden thump. He lay th^ce writhing with pain and quaking with apprehension, but straining every muscle in frantio efforts to get up. In a fever of expectancy I sprang to the (ioor, locked it, placed my back against it, and bent a watchful gaze upon my struggling master. Already my fingers were itching to begin their murderous work. <0h, what etm be the matter!' exdaimed my aunt, shrinking from me, and following with her frightened eyes tiie direction of mine. My breath was coming in Bhort» If. 1.1., ClOMS IN CONNBCTICUT. 117 foidk gups now, and 1117 eicdtement was almost nnoon- troUabla. My aunt cried oat— ^ * 0\ do not look so t Tou appal me ! Oh, what can the ipatter bel What is it yon seet Why do yon stare sol Why ^ you work your fingers like that 1 ' * Peace, woman I ' I said, in a hoarse whisper. ' Look elsewhere; pay no attention to me ; it is nothing — ^nothing. I am often this way. It will pass in a moment It oomes from smoking too mndi.' My injured lord was up, wi^d-eyed with terror, and trying to hobble toward the door. I could hardly breathe, I was so wrought up. My aunt wrung hr liands, and said — * Oh, I knew how it would be ; I knew it would oome to this at last I Oh, I implore you to crush out that &tal habit while it may yet be time 1 Tou must not, you shall not be deaf to my supplications longer 1' My struggling Consdenoe showed sudden signs of weariness 1 ' Oh, pro- mise me you will throw off this hateful slavery of tobacco 1 ' My Conscience b^gan to reel drowsily, and grope with his hands — enchanting spectacle ! ' I beg you, I beseech you, 1 implore you I Your reason is deserting you ! There is madnees in your eye ! It flames with frenzy ! Ch, hear me, hear me, and be saved ! See, I plead with you on my very knees 1 ' As she sank before me my Oonsdenoe reeled again, and then drooped languidly to the floor, blinking toward me a last supplication for mercy, with heavy eyes. * Oh, promise, or you are lost ! Promise, and be redeemed I Prcmiisel Promise and livef With \. long-drawn sigh my ooaquerod Oonsdenee dosed his eyes and fell fast asleep t lis THE MB0SN7 CAMNIVAL OF *-«. WiUi Mi exultuit shout I gprang past my aunt, andlB an instant I had mj life-long foe by the throat. After so many years of waiting and bnging, he was mine at last I tore him to shreds and fragments. I rent the fragments to bits. I oast the bleeding rubbish into the fire, and drew into my nostrils the grateful inoense of my bumt-o£foiing. At lasty and for erer, my Oonsdenoe was dead 1 I was a free man I I turned upon my poor aont^ who was almost petrified with teRor, and shouted— ' Out of this with your paupers, your charities, your reforms, your pestilent morals I You behold before you a man whose li£»-couflid. is done, whose soul is at peace; a man whose heart is dead to sorrow, dead to suiQEbring, dead to remorse ; a man withoitt ▲ oonsoibnqb I In my joy I spare you, though I could throttle you and never feel a pang! Ryl' She fled. Since that day my life is all bliak Bliss, unalloyed bliss. Nothing in all ^e world could persuade me to have a conscience again. I settled all my old out- standing scores, and began the world anew. I killed thirty - eight persons during the first two weeks— all of them on account of ancient grudges. I burned a dwelling that interrupted my view. I swindled a widow and some <»phanB out of their last cow, which is a very good one, though not thoroughbred, I believe. I have also committed BooresNif crimes, of various kinds, and have ei\joyed my work exceedingly, whereas it would formerly have broken my heart and turned my hair grey, I have no doubt In conclusion I wish to state, by way of advertisement, that medical coUeges deairinK assorted tramps for I I I I ndlB ^m i. I itB to drew ariog. CBZMJS m COmXCTICUT. m pnrpoMi, dtlMT Ijgr tiw groM, by ixiKd SMisiiraiiittt^ or per ten, will do woU to ei^iaixie the lot in my oaUar hebn P«ueliaBing elaowlifln^ M those woro all Mleoted bj myeelf, and oan be had at * low rate, beoaiue I wiih to dear o«t my atock and get ready &r the quiring tnMla , ivho your nou a oe; a dead joy I eel a Bliss, luade iout- drty- n on that ■ome one, itted I my oken nenty [itifie ABOUT MAGNANIMOUS-INCIDENT LITERATURE. All my life, from Ix^hood np, I have had the habit of read- ing a oertain 8tt of anecdotes, written in the quaint vein of The World's ingenious Fabulist, for the lesson they taught me and the pleasure they gave me. They lay always oon- yenient to my hand, and whenever I thought meanly of my kind I turned to them, and they banished that sentiment; wheuoTer I felt myself to be selfish, sordid, and ignoble I turned to them, and they told mo what to do to win beck my self-respeot. Many times I wished that the charm- ing anecdotes had not stopped with their happy climaxes, but had continued the pleasing history of the several bene- fiMJtors and benefidaries. This wish rose in my breast so per- sistently that at last I determined to satisfy it by seeking out the sequels of those anecdotes myself. So I set about it, and after great labour and tedious research accomplished my fcask. I will lay the result before you, giving you each anecdote in its turn, and following it with its sequel as I gathered it through my investigations. THE GRATEFUL POODLE. One day a benevolent physician (who had read the books) \ \ • MAONANIMOUB-INCWBNT UTERATUMR 191 haying foond a ttray poodle suffering from a broken leg, oon- T«yed the poor creature to hie home» and after getting and bandaging the ii^jured limb gave the litUe ootoaat ite liberty agdn, and thought no more about the matter. Bat how great was his surprise, upon opening his door one mornings some days later, to find the grateful poodle patiently waiting there, and in its oompany another stray dog, one of whose 1^, by some accident^ had been broken. Th» kind physi- eian at onoe relieved the distressed animal, nor did he forg^ to admire the inscrutable goodness and mercy of Qod, who had been willing to use so humble an instrument as th« poor outcast poodle for the inculcating of, Ac, &c, iui. >ks) I- The next morning the benerolent physiciati fi>t:nd the two dogs, beaming with gratitude, waiting* at his door, and with them two other dogs — (nipples. The cripples were sraedily healed, and the four went their way, leaying the benevolent physician more overcome by pious wonder than ever. The day passed, the morning came. There at the door sat now the four reconstructed dogs, and with them four others requiring reconstruction. This day also passed, and another morning came ; and now sixteen dogs, eight d them newly crippled, occupied the sidewalk, and the people were gcnng around. By noon the broken legs Were all set, but the pious wonder in the good physician's breast was beginning to get mixed with involuntary pro&nity. The sun rose once more, and exhibited thirty-two dogti, sixteen d them with broken legs, occupying the sidewalk and half of the street ; the human spectators took i^i the rest of the room. The i '1 II in MAONAJmiOUMJrClDBNT UTMJUTUMM evies of tha wounded, the loiigi of the h^ded bratee, end the oomnieiiti of the on-looking oidaene made great and iniplring flheer, bat traffic wan interrupted in that street. The good phyiioiui hired a eouple of assifltant Burgeons and got through his benevolent work before dork, first taking the precaution to oanoel his church membership, so that he might express himself with the latitude which the case required. But some things have their limits. When once more the morning dawned, and the good physioian looked out upon a massed and far-reaching multitude of clamorous and beseech- ing dogs, he said, ' I might as well acknowledge it, I havv been fooled by the books ; they only tell the pretty part of the story, and then stop. Fetch me the shou-gun; this thing has gone along fiff enough.' He issued forth with kis weapon, and chanced to step upon ^he tail of the original poodle, who promptly bit him in tlte leg. Now the great and good work which this poodle had been engaged in had engendered in him such j^ mighty and augmenting enthusiasm as to tr .*n his weak head at last and drive him mad. A month later, when the benevolent physician lay in the death throes of hydrophobia, he called his weeping friends about him, and said — * Beware of the books. They tell but half of the stoiy. Whenever a poor wretch asks you for help, and yon feel a doubt as to what result may flow from your benevolence, give yourself the benefit of the doubt and kill the applicant.' And 80 saying he turned his fiuse to the wall and gave mi the ghost. MAONANIMOUMNCIDBNT UTJFJUTUMR 1S» J TBI BEKVrOLEXn AUTHOB. A poor and joung litermry beginner had triod in Tiin tu get his mannflcripts accepted. At laat, wlien the horron of ■tarvation were ataring him in the h/Od, he laid hii aad oaae before a celebrated aathor, beieeching hia coonflel and aaaiBt- anoe. This generous man immediately put aside his own matters and proceeded to peruse one of the despised manu- scripts. Having completed his kindly task, he shook the poor young man cordially by the hand, saying, ' I perosiTe merit in this ; oome again to me on Monday.* At the time specified, the celebrated author, with a sweet smile, but saying nothing, spread open a magasine which was damp from the press. What was the poor young man's astonish- ment to discover upon the printed page his own article * How can I ever,' said he, fidling upon his knees aad burst- ing into tears, * testify my gratitude for this noble conduct 1 ' The celebrated author was the renowned Snodgrass; the poor young ^My**^**^ thus rescued fW>m obacurity and starva- tion was the afterwards equally renowned Snagsby. Let this pleasing incident admonish us to turn a charitable ear to all b^ginnerb that need help. s SBQVBL. The next week Snagsby -vfas back with five rejected manuscripts. The a»lebrated author was a little surpHsed, because in the books the young straggler had needed but one lift, apparently. Howevor, he ploughed through these papers, removing unnecessary flowers and digging up somff \ It4 AUONANlMOU&INCmBNT LITSXATUMM Aores of a^jeotiTV-itiimpii, and then niooeeded in gsMing two oi the ftrtiolea vooepted. A week or 00 drifted hf, and the gxateAiI Snagebj Mriyed with another cargo. The celebrated anthor had felt a mighty glow of latiafiMstion within himself the first time he had saoosBsfiillj befiriended the poor joong stmggler, and had compared himself with the generous people in the books with high gratification; but he was beginning to suspect now that he had struck upon something fresh in the nobl»> episode line. His enthusiasm took a chill. Still, he could not bear to repulse this struggling young author, who clung to him with Buoh pretty simplicity and trustfulness. Well, the upshot of it all was that the celebrated author presently found himself permanently freighted with the poor young beginnerr AH his mild effortn to unload his cargo went for nothing. He had to give daily counsel, daUy encouragement; he had to keep on procuring magaiine acceptances, and then revamping the manuscripts to make them presentable. When the young aspirant got a start at last, he rode into sudddn fame by describing the celebrated author's private life with such a caustic humour and such minuteness of blistering detail that the book sold a prodigious edition, and broke the celebrated author's heart with mortifi- cation. With his latest gsuqp he said, 'Alas, the books deceived me ; thej do not tell the whole stoiy. Beware of the struggling young author, my friends. Whom Qod sees fit to starve, let not man presumptuously rescue to his own undoing.' •f hi his - I I UAONANIMOUMNCiDSNT LJTJSRATUIUS. l» Vm «RATirUL HUSBAim. One day a lady wm driTing through the prineipal iih«et if A great dty with her little hoy, when the horaee took IHght and dMhed madly away, hurling the ooachman ftom his box and leaving the oooapanti of the ouriage paralyied with terror. But a brave youth who waa driring a grocery wagon threw himeelf before the plunging aninuUe, and sue* oeeded in arresting their flight at the peril of hie own.* The grateful lady took his number, and upon arriving at her home she reUted the heroic act to her husband (who had read the books), who listened with streaming eyes to the moving recital^ and who, after returning thanks, in conjunc- tion with his restored loved ones, to Him who suffereth not even a sparrow to fall to the ground unnoticed, sent for the brave young person, and, phicing a cheque for five hundred dollars in his hand, said, * Take this aa a reward for your noble act, William Ferguson, and if ever you shall "need a firiend, remember that Thompson McSpadden has a gratefbl heart' Let us learn -from this that a good deed cannot fiul to benefit the doer, hoi^c^er humble he may be. SEQUISL. William Ferguson called the next week and asked Mr. McSpadden to use his influence to get him a higher employ, ment, he feeling capable of better things than driving a grocer's wagon. Mr. McSpadden got him an under-clerk* •hip at a good salary. > This is probably a mlfpriot.— M. T. ' IM HAONAmMOUS-INCIDSNT LITSRATUSA Plreflently WilliAm Feiguaon's mother fell nok, and William— Well, to oat the story short, Mr. MoSpaddea oonmnted to take her into hie home. Before long she yearned for the society of her younger diildren ; so Mary and Jnlia were admitted also, and little Jimmy, their brother. Jimmy had a pocket-k^e, and he wandered into the drawing-room with it one day, alone, and rednoed ten thousand dollars' worth of fnmiture to an indeterminable value in rather less than three-quarters of an hour. A day or two later he fell down stairs and broke his neck, and serenteen of his fiftmily's relatives came to the house to attend the funeral. This made them acquainted, and they kept the kitchen occupied Alter that, and likewise kept the McSpaddens busy hunting up situations of various sorts for them, and hunting up more when they wore these out. Tbe old woman dratik a good deal and swore a good deal; but the grateful McSpaddens knew it was their duty to reform her, considering what her son had done for them, so they clave nobly to their generous task. William came often and got decreasing sums of money, and asked for higher and more lucrative employment— which the gratefiil McSpadd n more or less promptly procured for him. McSpadden con- sented also, after some demur, to fit William for college; but when the first vacation came and the hero requested to be sent to Europe for his health, the persecuted McSpadden rose against the tyrant and revolted. He plainly and squarely refused. William Ferguson's mother was so astounded that she let her gin-bottle drop, and her profane lips revised to do their office. When she reoovdred she said in a half-giusp, ' Is this your gratitudet Where would your wifo and boy be now, but for my son 9' MAONANIMOVS-INCIDSNT LZTSnATUMR ISI , William Mid, < Is this jmr gntitiide t Did I save you wife^ lift or not t tell me that r Beren relatioiis swarmed in from the kitchen, and each taid, < And this is his gratitude I ' William's sisters staied, bewildered, and said, * And this is his ^t — ' but were interrupted by their mother, who bnrst into tears and exclaimed, ' To thinl: that my sainted Httle Jimmy threw away his life in the service of such a reptile 1 ' Then the pluck of the reyolutionary McSpadden rose to the occasion, and he replied with fervour, ' Out of my house^ the whole beggarly tribe of yon 1 I was beguiled by the books, but shall never be beguiled again— -once is sufficient for me/ And turning to William he shouted, ' Tee, you did save my wife's life, and the next man that does it shall die in his tracks t ' Not being a clergyman, I place my text at the end of my sermon instead of at the beginning. Here it is, from Mr. Noah Brooks's Recollections of President Lincoln, in * Scribner's Monthly * : — ' J. H. Hackett, in his part of Falstafl^ was an actor who gare Mr. Lincoln great delight. With his usual desire to signify to others hifl sense of obligation, Mr. Lincoln wrote a genial little note to the actor, expressing his pleasure at wit* nessing his performance. ' Mr. Hackett, in reply, sent a book of some sort ; perhaps it was one of bis own authorship. He also wrote several notes to the Fl^dent. One night, quite late, when the episode had passed out of my mind, I went to tke White House in answer to a mflsssfni Passing into th« 1S8 MAGNANIM0U8-INCIDBNT LITBRATUMM. Frandent's office, I notioed, to my siirpEiae^ HackoU mtting in the anteroom as if wkiting for an audience. Hie Fresidant asked me if any one was outside. On being tokl, he said^ half sadly, ** Oh, I can't see him, I can't see him ; I was in hopes he had gone away." Then he added, '' Now thi» just illustrates the difficulty of having pleasant Mends and a<h quaintanoes in this place. You know how I liked Haokett as an actor, and how I wrote to tell him so. He sent me that book, and there I thought the matter would end. He is a master of his place in the profession, I suppose, and well fixed in it; but just because we had a little friendly corre- spondence, such as any two men might have, he wants some- thing. What do yon suppose he wanti^t" I could not guess, and Mr. lincoln added, '' Well, he wants to be consul to London. Ohydearl*" I will observe, in conclusion, that the William Ferguson incident occurred, and within my personal knowlelge — though I have changed the nature of the details, to keep William from recognising himi^ in it. All the readers of this article have in some, sweet and gushing hour of their lives played the rdiU of Magnanimous- Incident hero. 1 wish I knew how many there are among them who are willing to talk about that episode and like tci be reminded of the consequences that flowed from it. Wa I little instai they rolled anyth thedi wiitin took 1 the pi but it ipon PUNCH, BROTHERS, PUNCH. Will the reader please to cait his eye over the following f«rae0| and lee if he can disoorer anything harmful in them 1 * Condiict(», when yon receive a fare, ^ Panoh in the presenoe of the paaBenjare A blue trip sl^ for an eightHsent furai A boff trip dip for a liz-oent fare A pink trip slip for a three-oent fare, Pnndh in the preeenoe of the paswnjaie 1 OHOBUS. Panoh, brothen I pnnoh with care t Punch in the preeenoe of the paHenjare t* I eame aoroaB these jingling rhymes in a newspaper, a little while ago, and read them a oouple of times. They took instant and entire possession of me. All through breakfast they went waltzing through my brain ; and when, at last, I rolled- up my tiapkin, I could not tell whether I had eaten anything or not. I had carefully laid out my day's work the day before — a thrilling tragedy in the novel which I am writing. I went to my den to begin my deed of blood. I took up my pen, but all I could get it to say was, ' Punch in the presence of the passeigaie.' I fought hard for an hour, but it wag useless* My head kept humming. < A blue trip 180 PUJfCE, BMOTMBRa, PUNCH. •lip for an dghioent &re, a buff trip slip for a siz-oent ^re^' and 80 on and bo on, without peace or respite. The day*! work was ruined — I could see that plainly enough. I gav« up and drifted down town, and presently diaoovored that my feet were keeping time to that relenUess jingle. When I oould stand it no longer I altered my step. But it did no good ; those rhjnnes aooommodatfxl themselTes to the new step and went on hai'assing me just as before. I returned home, and suffered all the afternoon ; suffered all through an unconGcious and unrefreshing dinner; suffered, and cried, and jingled all through the evening; went to bed and rolled, tossed, and jingled right along, ihe same aa ever; got up at midnight frantic, and tried to read i but there was nothing visible upon the whirling page except * Punch t punch in the presence of the passenjare.' By sunrise I was out of my mind, and everybody marrelled and was^^ distressed at the idiotic burden of my ravings — ' Punch I oh, punch 1 punch in the presence of the passenjare 1 ' Two days later, on Saturday morning, I arose, a tottering wreck, and went forth to fulfil an engagement with a valued friend, the Bev. Mr. — -, to walk to the Talcott Tower, ten milee distant. He stared at me, but asked no questions. We Started. Mr. talked, talked, talked — as is his wont I said nothing ; I heard nothing. At the end of a mile, Mr. said— ' Mark, are you sick ) I never saw a man look so haggard and worn and absent-minded. Say sometMng ; do ! ' Drearily, without enthusiasm, I said : ' Punch, brother^ punch with care ! Punch in the presence of the passen- jafel' PUNCff, SSOTJUmtS, PUNCM. in I ■ My friend eyed me blankly, looked perplexed, then aud — ' I do not think I get your drift, Mark. There does not ■eem to be any relevancy in what yon have said, certainly nothing sad ; and yet — maybe it was the way yon »aid the words — ^I never heard anything that sounded so pathetia What is * But I heard no more^ I was already hx away with my pitiless, heart-breaking ' bine trip slip for an eight-oent fiue^ buff trip slip for a six-oent fare, pink trip slip for a three- oent fare ; pnnch in the presence of the passei^jare.' I do not know what oconrred during the other nine miles. How- ever, all of a sudden Mr. laid his hand on my shoulder and shouted — * Oh, wake up ! wake up ! wake up 1 Don't deep all dayl Here we are at the Tower, man! I have talked myself deaf and dumb and blind, and never got a response^ Just look at this magnificent autumn landscape t Look at it I look at it I Feast your eyes on itl Ton have trar veiled; you have seen boasted landscapes elsewhere. Oome, now, deUver an honest opinion. What do you say to tLisT I sighed wearily, and murmiued— < A buff trip slip for a six-cent fare, a pink trip slip for a ihree^sent fare, punch in thd presence of the passenjare.' Bev. Mr. stood there, very grave, full of concern, apparently, and looked long at me ; then he said — , * Mark, there is something about this that I cannot under- stand. Thoee are about tho same words you said 'before ; thare doee not seem to be anything in them, and yet thej •rr PUNCH, SnOTMEBSf PVKCB. nearly break my heart when yon say them. Punch in Uib— how is it they got' I h^gan at the beginning and repeated all the lines. My friend's fieioe lighted with interest. He said^ ^Why, what a captivating jingle it is I It is almost mnsio. It flows along so nicely. I have nearly caught the rhymes mysell Say them over just once more^ and then 111 hate themy sure.' I said them oyer. Then Mr. said them. He made one little mistake^ which I corrected. The next time and the iiext he got them right. Now a great burden seemed to tumble fro" . my shoulders. That torturing jingle departed out of my brain, and a grateful sense of rest and peace descended upon me. I was light-hearted enough -to sing; and I did jdng for half an hour, (Er<iraight along, as we went jogging homeward. Then my freed tongue found blessed speech again, and the pent talk of many a weary hour began to gush and flow. It flowe«^ on and on, joyously, jubilantly, until the fountain was empty and dry. As I wrung my frieiid's hand at parting, I said — 'Haven't we had a royal good timet But now I re- member, you haven't said a word tosfs two hours. X)ome^ come, out with something I ' The Bev. ULt. turned a lack-lustre eye upon me, dr^w a deep sigh, and said, without animation, without apparent consoiousness — 'Punch, brothers, punch with caret Punch in the presence of the passei^iare t ' A pang shot through me as I said to myself, 'P6oi Mlow, poor fellow t A< has got it, now.' FUIfCB, BM0THBM8, PUNCM. n - I did nofc lee Mr. — fbr two or three daye after tlukt Ibea, on Tueeday eyeDing, he staggered into mj preienoo •ad Mmk dqeiitedly into a seat He waa pale, worn; ho was a wreck. He lifted his faded eyes to my &oe and said— 'Ah, Mark, it was a minons investment that I made in those heartless rhymes. They have ridden me like a ni^^t- mare, day and nighty hour after hour, to this very moment. Sinoe I saw yon I have suffered the torments of the lost Saturday evening I had a sudden oall, hy telegraph, and took the night train for Boston. Tho occasion was the death of a valued old friend who had requested that I should preach his f^eral sermon. I took my seat in the cars and set myself to fbuning the discourse. But I nerer got beyond the opening paragraph ; for then the train started and the car-wheels began their ''dack, clack — dack-daok-daok t dack, olaek-~-claok-cIack-clack 1 " and right away those odious rhymes fitted themselves to that accompaniment. For an hour I sat there and set a syllable of those riiymes to every separate and distinct dack the cuvwheds made. Why, I was as &gged out, then, as if I had Iseen ch<^Eyping wood all day. My skull was splitting with headachoc It seemed to me that I must go mad if I sat there any longer ; so I undressed and went to bed. I stretdied myself out in my berth, and -well, you know what the result was. The thing went right along, just the same. ** 01adc-dack>dack, e Hue trip slip, dack-dack-clacl., for an dght-oent fiire; eiack-dack-dsck, a buft trip slip, dack-dack-clack, for a six- oent fitre^ and so on. and so on, and so on—^mne^, in the presence of the passenjaie 1 ** Sleep t Not a single wink I fe'-'il 184 PUJrCM, MMOTSmtS, PUNCB. I wMalmosfc ft Ivnatio when I got to Boston. Don't aak m€ about the ftmemL I did the be«t I oould, bat every aolamii individual lontenoe wm meahed and tangled and woven in and out with ^Punoh, brotheni punch with care, punch in the preeenoe of the passeijare.'' And the most distressing thing was that mj d^Hnvry dropped into the undulating rhythm of those pulsing rhymes, and I could actually catch absent- minded people nodding <tfiM to the swing of it with their stupid heads. And, Mark, you may believe it or not, but before I got through, the entire assemblage w ere placidly bobbing their heads in solemn unison, mourners, under- taker, and alL The moment I had finished, I fled to the anteroom in a state bordering on firenzy. Of course it would be my luck to find a sorrowing and aged maiden aunt of the deceased there, who had arrived from Springfield too late to get into the church. She began to sob, and said — ' ** Oh, oh,- he is gone^ he is gone, and I didn't see him before he died I " '"Tesl" I said, '<he if gone, he m gonc^ he m gone-^ oh, Vfill this sufferiiig never cease 1 " ' ** Tou loved him, then 1 Oh, you too loved him t " * "Loved him I Loved who f* «« Why, my poor George ! my poor nephew!* <«0h — him/ Tea-— oh, yes, yes. Certainly— -certainly. PundK-r— punch— oh, this misery will kill me ! ** * ** Bless you I bless you, sir, for these sweet words f /, too, sufifer in this dear loss. Were you present during hk last moments t** < ''Yes 1 I»'«oAoM last moments f ^ ***BiM. The dear departed V PUNCB, BM0THBR8, PVNCH, ^ ^ Yes t Ohy jte— yes — yM / I mippofle so, I think so^ / don't know i Oh, certainly — I was therfr— / was there I * '"Oh, what a priyilegel what a predons privilege ( And hia last words— oh, tell me, tell me his last words I What did he say ! " ' " He said — ^he said— oh, my head, my head, my head I He said — ^he said — ^he never said anything bat Punch, punch, ffimch in the presence of the passei\]arel Oh, leave me, madam 1 In the name of all that is generous, leave me to my madness, my misery, my despair 1 — a buff trip slip for a six-cent fare, a pink trip slip for a three-cent &i»— endu- rance can nofbr-ther go! — puhgh in the presence of the pasBOTJare!**' My friend's hopeless eyes rested upon mine a pregnant minute, and then he said impressively,— ' Mark, yon do not say anything. Tou do not oflbr me any hope. But, ah me, it is just as well — it is just as well Yon oould not do me any good. The time has long gone by when words could comfort m& Something telU me that my tongue is doomed to wag for ever to the jif^ger of that re* moiseless jingle. There— there it is coming on me again : a blue trip slip £sr an eight-cent fiire, a buff trip slip for a ' Thus Kiurmuring faint and fainter, my friend sank into a peaceful trance and forgot his sufferings in a blessed respite. How did I finally save him from the asylum 9 I took him to a neighbouring university and made him discharge the burden of his persidcuting rhymes into the eager ears of the p9or, unthinking students. How is it with ikem^ now t i\ •• PVlfCB, BR0TMEE8, PUNCB. llitweultiitooiadiotelL Why did I writ* thto article I It WM for a worthy, eren » noWe, imrpoi^ ItwMtowarn you, rmder, If yon should oome aoroMi thow meroilea rhymen, to avoid tham-^void them aa too would a ^^^ lencel olel 'M' I ■' '■■'•'I'J^'iSfMt' A CURIOUS EXPERIENCE. Kbu is the Btoory which the Mi^or w!d me, m nearly rj 1 tan reoall it :-^ In the winter of 1862-3, I wbs eomnumdant cf Fort IVambuU, at New London, Conn. Maybe onr life there was ^ot 80 brisk as life at < the front ; ' still it was brisk enough, in its way— -one's brains didn't oake together there for lack of something to keep them stirring. For one thing, all the Northern atmosphere at that time was thick with mysterious rumours — ^rumours to the effect that rebel spies were flitting OTorywhere, and getting ready to blow up our Northern forts, bum our hotds, send infected clothing into our towns, and all that sort of thing. Tou remember it, AJ} this ha I a tendency to keep uis awake, and knock the traditional dulnees out of garrison Ufe; Besides, ours was a recruiting station — ^whioh Ia the g«s:9 as saying we hadn't any time to waste in dorlng, or dreaming, or fooling around. Why, with all our watdl^lness, fifty per cent, of ib day's r^- ormts would leak out of our hands and give us the slip the same night. The bounties were so prodigious tiiat aieomii eould pay a sentinel three or four hundred dolkrs to let him m A cvmoua Bxpsnnmca. Moape, Mid ttill have enough of hii bountj^money Iflit U oongtitate a fortune for a poor man. Tea, af I said before, our Uh was not drowqr* Well, one day I was In my quarters alone, doing some writing, when a pale and ragged lad of fourteen or fifteen entered, made a neat bow, and said — * I believe recruits are received here f ' •Yes. ' Will you please enlist me, sir I ' ' Dear me, no 1 You are too young, my boy, and too small/ A disappointed look came into his fiiMie, and quickly deepened into an expression of despondency. He turned slowly away, as if to go; hesitated, then &oed me again, and said, in a tone which went to my heart — * I have no home, and not a friend in the world. If you cmUd only enlist me T But of course the thing was out of the question, and I said so as gently as I could. Their I told him to sit down by the stove and warm himself, and added — * You shall have something to eat presenUy. You are hungryt' He did not answer j he did not need to; the gratitude in his big soft eyes was more eloquent than any words could have been. He sat down by the stove, and I went on writing. Oocanonally I took a furtive glance at him. I noticed that his clothes and shoes, although soiled and damaged, were of good style and material. This &ct was suggestive. To it I added the fiiots that his voice was low and musical ; his eyes deep and melancholy ; his carriage A CVMIOUa BXPBRIBNCK \m too ttude >fild It on I and was low Mid addr«M gentlemanly ; evidflntly the poor ohap wae In Iroable. As a reeolt^ I was intereeted. Howerer, I became abeorbed in m j work by and by, and forgot all about the boy. I don't know how long thin lasted ; bnt^ at length, T happened to look up. The boy's back was toward me, but his fkoe was turned in such a way that I could see one of his cheeks — and down that cheek a rill of noiseless tears was flowing. ' Qod bless my soxd 1 ' I said to myself; * I forgot the poor rat was starving.' Then I made amends for my brutaUty by saying to him, ' Gome along, my lad ; you shaU dine with ms ; I am alone to<lay.' He gave me another of those* gratefVil looks, and a happy light broke in his £eu». At the table he stood with his hand on his chair-back untU I was seated, then seated him- self. I took up my knife and fork and — ^well, I simply held them, and kept still; for the boy had inclined his head and was saying a silent grace. A thousand hallowed memories of home and my childhood poured in upon me, and 1 sighed to think how far I had drifted from religion and its balm for hurt minds, its comfort and solace and sup- port As our meal progressed I observed that young Wicklow —Robert Wicklow was his full name — ^knew what to do with his napkin ; and — well, in a word, I observed that he was a boy of good breeding ; never mind the details. He had a simple franVness, too, whidi won upon me. We talked mainly about himself, and I had no difficulty in getting his histmy out of him. When he spoke of his having been bom and reared in Louisiana, I warmed to him i*, uo A CUM10U8 BXPERIENCB. deddedly, for I had spmt Mmie time down there. I knew til the * coast' region of the Mianssippi, and loved it, and had not been long enough away from it for my inters in it to begin to pale. The very names that fell from his lips eot-ided good to me — so good that I steered the talk in directions tk^t would bring them out. Baton Kongo, Flaquemine, Donaldsonyille, Sixfy-mile Pointy Bonnet-Oaxre^ the Stock-Landing, Oarrollton, the Steamship Landing, the Steamboat Landing, New Orleans, Tchonpitoulas Street^ thd Esplanade, the Rue des Bons En^ts, the St. Charles Hotel, the Tivoli Oircle, the Shell Road, Lake Pontchartrain ; and it was particularly delightful to me to hear once more of the ' R. E. Lee,' the * Natchez,' the < Eclipse,' the < Ck^neral Quitman,' the * Duncan F. Kenner,' and other old fiuniliar steamboats. It was almost as good as being back where, '^he^ n^mes so yividly reproduced in my mind the look of the fihijQgs they stood for. Briefly, this was little Wioklow's histoiy?— When the war broke out, he and his invalid aunt and his &ther were living near Baton Rouge, en a great and rich plantation which had been in the family for fifty years. The fiither was a IJnion man. He was persecuted in all sorts of ways, but dung to his principles. At last, one night, masked men burned his mansion down, and the &mily had to fly for their lives. They were hunted from place to place, and learned all Uiere was to know about poverty, hunger, and distress. The invalid aunt found relief at last : misery and exposure killed her; she died in an open field, like a tramp, the rain beating open her and the thunder booming overhead. Not long afterward the A CURIOUS SXPSBISNCK 141 fiither was oaptared bj an armed band ; and whila the mb begged and pleaded, the victim was atmng up before hia (koe. [At this point a baleful light ahonto in the yonth'fc eyea, and ho said, with the manner of one who talks to him- self : < If I cannot bo enlisted, no matter — I shall find a way —I shall find a way.*] Afl soon as the &ther was pxo- nonnoed dead the son was told that if he was not out of that region within twenty-four hours it would go hard with him. That night he crept to the riverside and hid himself near a plantation landing. By and by the ' Duncan F. Kenner ' stopped there, and he swam out and concealed himaelf in the yawl that was dragging at her stem. Before daylight the boat reached the Stock-Tending, and he slipped ashore. He walked the three miles which lay between that point and the house of an undo of his in Good-Children Street, in New Orleans, and then his troubles were over for the time being. But this uncle was a Union man too, and before very long he concluded that he had better leave the South. So he and young Wi<^ow slipped out of the country on board a sailing veasel, and in due time reached New York. They put up at the Astor House. Young Wicklow had a good time ol it for a while, strolling up and down Broadway, and observing the strauge Northern sights ; bnt In the end a change oamo — and not for the better. The unde had been cheerful at first, but now he began to look troubled and despondent; moreover, he became moody and irritable ; talked oi money giving out, .ind no way to get more — ' not enough left for one, let alone tvo.* Then, one morning, he waa mfflsmg— did nr t come to breikfast The boy inquired at t Uie office, and was told that the inoie had hisbmthf 14S A otrmom fxpsribncb. night before end gone away — to Beaton, the derk beliefed^ but wafi not certain. The lad was alone and friendless. He did not know what to do, but concluded he had better try to follow and find his unold. He went down to the steamboat landing; learned that the trifle of money in his pocket would not oarry him to Boston ; however, it would carry him to Kew London ; ao he took passage for that port, reeolying to trust to Providence to furnish him means to travel the rest ol the way. He had now been wandering about tiie streets ol Kew London three days and nights, getting a bito and a nap here and there for charity's sake. But he had given up at last; courage and hope were both gone. If he could enlist, nobody could be more thaokful ; if he could not get in as a soldier, couldn't he be a drummer-boy t Ah, he would work $o hard to please, and would be so grate- AUl Well, there's the histoiy of young Wicklow, just as he told it to me, barring details. I said — <My boy, you're among friends now— don't you be troubled any more.' How his eyes glistened ! I called in Sergeant John Raybum — ^he was from Hartford; lives in Hartford yet ; maybe you know him — and said, ' Baybum, quarter this boy with the musicians. I am going to enrol him as a drummer-boy, and I want you to look after him and see that he is well treated.' Well, of course, intercourse between the commandant of the post and the drummer-boy came to an end, now ; but the poor little friendless chap lay heavy on my heart, just the same. I kept on the lookout^ hoping to see him brighteii / are A CURI0V8 EXPBMISNCS. 148 It of but juflt tliteii «p tnd b^gin to be cheery and gay; bat no^ the days went by. and there was no change. He aoBooiated with nobody; he was always absent-minded, always thinking ; his fisMse was always sad. One morning Bay bum asked leave to speak to me privately. Said he— ' < I hope I don't oflfond, sir ; bat the truth is, the musicians are in such a sweat it seems as if somebody's goi to speak.' ' Why, what is the trouble I ' ' It's the Wicklow boy, sir. The musioianB ire down oa him to an extent you can't imagine. ^ < Well, go on, goon. What has he been doing t ' * Prayin*, sir.' 'Praying!' 'Tes, sir; the musicians haven't any peace of their life for that boy's prayin'. first thing in the morning he's at it; noons he's at it ; and nights — vr^^nighU he just lays into 'em like all possessed I Sleep) Bless you, they ea/fCt sleep : he's got the floor, as the sayin' is, and then when he once gets his supplication-mill agoin*, there just simply ain't any let-up to him. He stmts in with the band-master, and he prays for him ; next he takes the head bugler, and ha prays for him ; next the bass drum, and he scoops him in ; and so on, light straight through the band, givin' them all a show, and takin' that amount of interest in it which would make yOu think he thought he wam't but a little while for this world, and believed he couldn't be happy in heaven without he had a brass band along, and wanted to pick 'em out for himself, so he could dq>end on 'em to do up the national tunes in a style suitln' to the place. Wall, sir, heavin' boots at him don't have no eflfect; it's dark in thsM; 1.1 .J 144 A CURIOUS EXPSmSKCS. and, besideiy he don't pray Me, luiyway, but kneels down behind the big drum ; bo it don't make no difoenoe if they rain boots at him, hs don't give a dem — ^warbles right akng, same as if it was applause. They sing out, ** Oh, dry upl" < Gire us a rastl" «Shoot himl" <<0h, take a walk 1 " ^nd all sorts of sudh things, Bat what of it t It don't phase him. He don't it Ind it.' After a pause : ' Kind of a good little fool, too ; gits up in the momin' and carts all that stock of boc s back, and sorts 'em out and sets each man's pair where they belong. And tb y've been throwed at him so much now, that he knows every boot in the band — <9fiin sort 'em out with his eyes shut.' After another pause, which I forbore to interrupt— * But the roughest thing about it is, that when he's done prayin' — ^when he ever does get done — he pipes up and begins to aing. Well, you know what a honey kind of a voice he's got when he talks ; you know how it would per- suade a cast-iron dog to come down off of a doorstep and lick his hand. Now if youll take my word for it^ sir, it ain't a circumstance to his singin*^! Flute music is harsh to that boy's singin'. Oh, he just gurgles it out so soft an^ sweet and low, there in the dark, that it makes you think you are in heaven.' ' What is there <' rough " about that 9 ' ' Ah, that's just it, sir. Tou hear him sing M Joat as I am— poor, wretched, bUnd,' —just you hear him sing that, once, and see if you dont melt all up and the water come into your eyes I I don^t ears whai he sings, it goes plum straight home to you-*- down right k,dry Bke a ;) It Kind i ourti »each irowed dband 8 done ip and d of a d pex«- epand iir, it urah to it an^ think don't don^t you— A CVMI0V8 SZFmaSNQB. 145 goea deep down to where yon Kf and it fetdiea yon eveij lime t Jost you Iiear him tang « Ohild of ain and aoRow, filled with diinuij. Wait not till to-monow, yield thee to-day | Grieve not that loTe Which, from above "-^ and so on. It makes a body fed like the wiekedesti uigratefalebto brute that walks. And when he sings them songs of his about home, and mother, and childhood, and old memories, and things that's vanished, and dd firiends dead and gone, it fetches everything before your foce that you've ever loved and lost in all your^Ufe — and it's just beautiful, it^s just divine to listen to, sir — but, Lord, Lord, the heart- break of it I The band — ^well, they all cry--every rascal of ihem blubbers, and don't try to hide it, either ; and first you know, that veiy gang that's been slammin' boots at that boy will skip out of their bunks all of a sudden, and rush over in the dark and hug him I Yes, they do—and slobber all over Idm, and call him pet names, and beg him to forgive them. And just at that time, if a regiment was to offer to hurt a hair of that cub's head, they'd go tor that regiment^ if it was a whole army corps l* ^Another pause. <l8 that ant' said L •Yes, sir,' ' . •Well, dear me, what is the oomplaintt What do they wantdonet' ' Done t Why bless yon, sir, they want you to stop him from tingM* * What an idea I You said his music wa;» divina' ,1 i ' i s ' \, I j »i 140 A CURIOUB EXPERIBNCX, 'That's just it It's ton divine. Mortal man iM&*t stand it. It stirs a body up so; it turns a body inside but; it racks his feelin'd all to rags; it makes him feel bad and wickedy and not fit for any place but perdition. It keeps a body in such an everlastin' state of repentin', that nothin' don't ta^te good and there am*t no comfort in life. And then the cryin*, you see— every momin' they are ashamed to look one another in the &ce.' * Well, this is an odd casCi and a ringnlar complaint. So they really want the singing stopped 1 ' ' Tes, sir, that is the idea. They don't wish to ask too much ; they would like powerful well to have the prayin' shut down ^ or leastways trimmed off around the edges ; but the main thing^s the singin*. If they can only get the singin' choked off, they think they can stand the prayin^' rough as it is to be bullyragged so much that way.' I told the sergeant I would teke the matter under oon- Bideratiou. That night I crept into the musicians' quarters and listened. The sergeant had not overstated the case. I heard the praying voice pleading in the dark ; I heard the execrations of the harassed men ; I heard the rain of boots whiz through the air, and bang and thump around the big drum. The thing touched me, but it amused me, too. By and by, after an impressive silence, came the singing* Lord, the pathos of it, the enchantment of it ! Nothing in the world was ever so sweet, so gracious, so tender, so holy, so movi^. I made my stay very brief; I was beginning to experience emotions of a sort not proper to the commandant of a fortress. Next day I issued orders which stopped the praying and A CUJUOm BXPBRIBNCa. 147 lebul; lel bad m. It i\ that in life. Ley are nt. So ask too prayin' edges; get the prayin,' er ooD- [uarters iase. I ard the >f boots the big K). By singing, hing in BO holy, iningto landant ing and ringing. TtuBn followed three or fonr days which were so ftill of boonty -jumping exdtements and irritations that 1 nerer once thought of my drummer-boy. But now comes Seigeant Baybum, one morning, and says— * That new boy acts mighty strangei sir.' •Howt' ' Well, sir, he^s all the time writing.' •Writingt What does he write— lettera t ' 'I don't know, sir; but whenever he's off duty, he is always poking and nosing around the fort, all by hiraself,— blest if I think there's a hole or comer in it he hasn't been into, — ^and every little while he outs with pencil and paper and scribbles something down.' •This gave me a most unpleasant sensation. I wanted to scoff at it, but it was not a time to scoff at anyOwng that had the least suspicious tinge about it. Things were happening all around us, in the North, then, that warned us to be always on the alert, and always suspecting. I re^ called to mind the suggestive fJEust that this boy was from the South,— -the extreme South, Louisiana, — and tho thought was not of a reassuring nature, under the circumstances. Nevertheless, it cost me a pang to give the orders which I now gave to Baybum. I felt like a fitther who i^ots to ex- pose his own child to shame and injury. I^told Baybum lo keep quiet, bide his time, and get me some of those writings whenever he could manage it without the boy's finding it out. And I charged him not to do anything which might let the boy discover that he was being watched. I alsa ordered that he allow the lad his usual liberties, but that lie be followed at a distaace when he went out into the town. J I \\ Xi 148 A CXmiOUB EXPBItlENCS. During the next two days, Raybnm reported to me lereral timee. No laooeeB. The boy was still writing, but be always pocketed his paper with a careless air wheneTsr Raybnm appeared in his vicinity. He had gone twice to an old deserted stable in the town^ remained a minnte or two, and come out again. One could not pooh-pooh these things —they had an eyil look. I was obliged to confess to my- self that I was getting uneasy. I went into my priyate quarters and sent for my second in command, — an officer of intelligence and judgment, son of (General James .Watson Webb. He was surprised and troubled. We had a long talk oyer the matter, and came to the conclusion that it would be worth while to institute a secret soaroh. I deter- mined to take charge of that myself. So I had myself called at two in the morning ; and, pretty soon after, I wsa in the musicians* quarters, crawling along the floor on my stomach among the snorers. I reached my slumbering waifs bunk at last, without distiurbing anybody, captured his dothee and kit, and crawled stealthily back again. When I got to my own quarters, I found Webb there, waiting and eager to know the result We made^ search immediately. The clothes were a disappointment. In the pockets we found blank paper and a pencil ; nothing else, except a jack- knife and such queer odds and ends and useless trifles as boys hoard and yalue. We turned to the kit hopefully. Nothing there but a rebuke for us 1 — a little Bible with this written on the fly4eaf: 'Stranger, be kind to my boy, for his mother's sake.' I looked at Webb— -he dropped his eyes ; he looked at ■19—1 dropped mine. Neither spoke. I put the book A CVmoVS SXPSROOrCB, 140 to DM g, but meTer ) toui >rtwo, things to my- private Boer of Watson a long that it [deter- myself •, I W9i iked at book WYer^mi^j back in its place. Preiiently Webb got ap and went away, without remark. After a little I nerved Qiyself «p to my unpalatable job, and took the plunder back to where it belonged, crawling on my stomach as before. It seemed the peculiarly appropriate attitude for the business I was in. I was most honestly glad w;hen it was over and done with. About noon next day Eayburn came, as usual, to report T cut him short. I said — ' Let this nonsense be dropped. We are making a buga^ boo out of a poor little cub who has got no more harm in him than a hymn-book.' The sergeant looked surprised, and saidt^^ J Well, you know it was your orders, sir, and I've gol some of the writing.' *And what does it amount tot How did you getitt' ' I peeped through the key-hole, and see him writing. 80 when I judged he was about done, I made a sort of a little cough, and I see him crumple it up and throw it in the 6re, and look all around to see if anybody was coming. Then he settled back as comfortable and careless as anything. Then I comes in, and passes the time of day pleasantly, and sends him of an errand. He never looked uneasy, but went right along. It was a coal-fire and new-built; the writing had gone over behind a chunk, out of sight ; but I got it out ; there it is ; it ain't hardly scorched, you see.' I glanced at the paper and took in a sentence or twa Then I dismissed the sergeant and told him to sand Webb to me. Here is the paper in full *— ■■^ I A CUmOU8 EXPBItlBNCa. * Fort Tnimbiill, the Sth. < Colonel, — I waa mistaken m to the calibre of the three guns I ended my list with. They are 18-pounden; all the rest of the armament is as I stated. The garrison remaina 9M before reported, except that the two light infantry oom- paniee that were tc be detached for service at the fixmt are to stay here for ^^ae present — can't find out for how long^ just now, but will soon. We are satisfied that, all things considered, matters had better be postponed un ' There it broke off— there is where Baybum coughed and interrupted the writer. All my affection for the boy, all my respect for him and charity for his forlorn condition, withered in a moment under the blight of this revelation of cold-blooded baseness. But never mind about that. Here waa business — business that required profound and immediate attention, too. Webb and I turned the subject over and over, and examined it all around. Webb said-— * What a pity he was interrupted ! Something is going to be postponed until — when t And what ia the something! Possibly he wduld have mentioned it, the pious little reptile 1 ' 'Yes,' I said, 'we have missed a trick. And who ii **wt^ in the letter) Is it conspirators inside the fort or outsider . That ' we * was uncomfortably sug;gestive. However, it was not worth while to be guessing around that^ so we proceeded to matters more practical. In the first place, we decided to double the sentries and keep the strictest possible A CURIO VS BXPBRIBNCK VSi iratoh. Xiext, we thought of oalling Wieklow in and making him diyolge everything ; but that did not teem wieest until other methods uhould fail. We most have flome more of the writings; so we began to plan to that end. And no^ wo had an idea : Wieklow never went to the post-offioe, — ^per- haps the deserted stab) a was his post-offioe. We sent for my confidential clerk — a young German named Sterne^ who was a sort of natural detective — and told him all about the case and ordered him to go to work on it Within the hour we got word that Wieklow was writing again. Shortly afterward, word came that ha had a^ed leave to go out into the town. He was detained awhile, and meantime Sterne hurried off and concealed himself in the stable. By and by he saw Wieklow saimter in, look about him, then hide some- thing under some rubbish in a comer, and take leisurely leave again. Sterne pounced upcn the hidden artide-— a . letter — and brought it to us. It had no superscription and no signature. It repeated what we had already read, and *then went on to say v-^ * We think it best to postpone till the two companies are gone. I mean the four inside think so; have not com- municated with the others — afraid of attracting attention. I say four because we have lost two; they had hardly en- listed and got inside when they were shipped off to the firont* It will be absolutely necessary to have two in their places. The two that went were the brothers from Thirty-mile Foint. X have something of the greatest importance to reveal, but must not trust it ^«o this method of oommunicatioa; will tiy the otheCi' m A CURlOVa EXrSMISNCR 'The UtUe soonndrcir idd Webb; 'who cofOd haire foppoaed he wm a spy t However, never mind abont that ; let ua add up our partionlan, auoh as they are, and see how the case stands to date. First, we've got a rebel spy in onr midst, whom we know; secondly, weVe got three more in onr midst whom we don't know ; thirdly, these spies have been intrcd aoed among us through the simple and easy process of enlisting as soldiers in the Union army— and evidently two of them have got sold at it, and been shipped off to the front; fourthly, there aie assistant spies 'outside' —number indefinite ; fifthly, Wicklow has very important matter which he is afraid to communicate by the ' present method' — ^will 'try the other/ That is the case, as it now stands. Shall we collar Wicklow and make him oonfesat Or shall we catch the person who removes the lettere from the stable and make him teUt Or shall we keep still and find out more t ' We decided upon the last oourse. We judged that we did not need to proceed to summary measures now, since it was evident that the conspirators were likely to wait till those two light infismtry companies were out of the way. We fortified Sterne with pretty ample powers, and told him to use his best endeavours to find out Window's ' other method' of communication. We meant to play a bold game; and to this end we proposed to keep the spies in an unsuspecting state as long as possible. So we ordered Sterne to return to the stable immediately, and, if he found the coast dear, to conceal Wicklow's letter where it was before, and leave it there for the conspiratom to get. The night dosed do¥m without further event. It was A CUMIOVa BXPBRlSNCa, 1«8 iaTt lat; iiov our ior6 iay« BAiy •and pped dde' tnat iBent now re»t from and we be it tiU ray. him ther )old an ared und waa waa eold and dark and aleety, with a raw wind blowing ; atill I tamed oat of my warm bed Mveral timea duiing the night» and went the rounda in person, to see that all waa rightand that OTeiy sentry waa on the alert I always found them wide awake and watchAU ; eyidently whispers of mysterious dangers had been floating about, and the doubling of the guards had been a kind of indorsement of those rumours. Onoe, toward morning, I encountered Webb, breasting hia way against the bitter wind, and learned then that he, also^ had been the rounds several timea to see that all waa going right Next day's events hurried things up somewhat Wiok- low wrote another letter ; Sterne preceded him to the stable and saw him deposit it ; captured it as soon as Wickbw was out of the way, then slipped out and followed the little spy at a distance, with a detective.in plain clothes at his own heels, for we thought it Judicious to have the law's assistance Iiandy in case of need. Wicklow went to the railway station, and waited around till the train from New York came in, then stood scanning the faces of the crowd as they poured out of the cars. Presently an aged gentleman, with green goggles and a cane, came limping along, stopped in Wioklow's neighbourhood, and began to look about him ex- pectantly. In an instant Wicklow darted forward, thrust an envelope into his hand, then glided away and disappeared in the throng. The next instant Bteme had snatched the letter; and as he hurried past the detective he said: * Follow the old gentleman — don't lose sight of him.' Then Sterne skurried out with the crowd, and camo straight to theibrt !*! f 154 A CUBI0U8 SXPSJtlSKCm We sat with dosed doors, and instraoted the guard out- side to allow no intemiption. First we opened the letter captored at the stable. It read as follows : — 'Holt Alliakge, — ^Fonndi in the usual gun, commands from the Master, left thare last night, which set a«ide the instructions heretofore received from the subordinate quarter. Have left in the gun bhe usual indication that the commands reached the proper hand * Webb, interrupting: ^ Isn't the bey under constant surveillance now 1 ' I said yes ; he had been under strict surveillance ever since the capturing of his former letter. ' Then bow could he put anything into a gun, or take anything but of it, and not get caught 1 ' ' WeU,' I said, ' I don't like the look of that very well' *I don't, either,' said Webb. 'It simply means that there are conspirators among the very sentinels. Without their connivance in some way or other, the thing couldn't have been done.' I sent for Eaybum, and ordered him to examine the batteries and see what he could find. The reading of the letter was then tesumed ^— ' The new commands are peremptory, and require that the MMMM shall be FFFFF at 3 o'clock to-morrow morn- ing. Two hundred will arrive, in small parties, by train and otherwise, from various directions, and will be at appointed place at right time. I will distribute the sign to-day. Success is apparently sure, though something must have A CVmOVB B2LPERIENCB, 156 it got out» for the sentries have been doubled, and the chieft went the round last night several timee. W. '^. comet from southerly to-day and will receiTe secret orders — by the other method. All six of you must be in 166 at sharp 2 A.M. Tou will find B. B. there, who will give you detailed instructions. Password same as last time, only reversed — ^put first syllable last and last syllable first. RemeiAer XXXX. Do not forget. Be of good heart ; before the next sun risers you will be heroes; your fame will be permanent^ you mil have added a deathless page to histoiy. Afiien.' 'Thunder and Mars,' said Webb, *but we are getting into mighty hot quarters, as I look at it I ' I said thei« was no question but that things were be- ginning to wear a most serious aspect. Said I-^ ' A desperate enterprise is on foot, that is plain enough. To-night is the time set for it — that, also, is plain. The exact nature of the enterprise — ^I mean the manner of it- is hidden away under those blind bunches of M's and Fs, but the end and aim, I judge, is the surprise and capture of the post. We must move quick and sharp now. I think nothing can be gained by continuing our clandestine policy as regards Wicklow. We must know, and as soon as pos- sible, too, where *' 166 ** is located, so that we can make a descent upon the gang there at 2 a.m. ; and doubtless the quickest way to get that information will be to force it out of that boy. But first of all, and before we make any im- portant move, 1 must lay the facts before the War Depart* ment, and ask for pienaiy powers.' ^ IM A CURIOUS BXPBRIBNCS, Hie deepatch was prepared in cipher to go over the wireB; I read it, approved it, and sent it along. We presently finished discussing the letter which was nnder consideration, and then opened the one wliich had been snatched from the lame gentleman. It contained no- thing but a couple of perfectly blank sheetd of note-paper ! It was a chilly check to our hot eagerness and expectancy. We felt as blank as th^^ pftper, for a moment, and tifice 9k foolish. But it was for a moment only ; for, of course^ we immediately afterward thought ol ' sympathetic ink.' We held the paper dose to the fire and watched for the characters to come out, under the influence of the heat ; but nothing appeared but some faint tracings, which we could make nothing of. We then called in the surgeon, and sent him off with orders to apply every test he was acquainted with till he got the right one, and report the contents of the letter to me the instant he brought them to the surface. This check was a confounded annoyance, and we naturally chafed under the delay ; for we had fully expected to get out of that letter some of the most important secrets of the plot. Now appeared Sergeant Baybum, and drew from his pocket a piece of twine string about a foot long, with three ^ knots tied in it, and held h up. * I got it out of a gun on the water-front,' said he. ' 1 took the tompions out of all the guns,and~ examined dose; this string was the only thing that was in any gun.' So this bit of string was Wicklow's * sign ' to signify that the 'Master's' commands had not miscarried. I ordered (hat every sentinel who had served near that gun during A cujaous BXPnniBNCB. m (he past twenty-foar hoim be put in ooDfinement ei <moe and separately, And not allowed to oommunioate with any one without my privily and consent. A telegram now oame from the Secretary of War. It read as followa : — ' Svspend haheeu wrpiu, Pat town onder martial law. Make necessary arrests. Act with vigoar and promptness. Keep the Department informed.' Wewerenowindiapetogotowg^k. I 8»t oat «>d had the lame gentleman quietly arrested and as qnietly brought into the fort ; I placed him nnder guard, and forbade speech to him or from him. He was inclined to bluster at first, but he soon dropped that. ^ Next came word that Wicklow had been seen to give something to a couple of our new recruits ; and that^ as soon as his back was turned, these had been seized and confined. Upon each was found a small bit of paper bearing these words and signs in pencil : — Baolb's Thibd Fught. BUnSMBEB JXEJL, 166. In accordance with instructions, I telegraphed to the Departmiant, in cipher, the progress made, and also described ttie above ticket. We seemed to b« in a strong enough 168 A CURIOUS SXPSRIBNCM, pofidtion now to venture to throw off the mftsk as regarded Wicklow ; so I sent for him. I also sent for and receiTed baek the letter written in sympathetic ink, the eargeon accompanying it with the information that thus fkt it had resisted his tests, but that there were others he could apply when I should be ready for him to do so. Presently Wicklow entered. He had a somewhat worn and anxious look, but he was composed and easy, and if he suspected anything it did not appear in his face or manner. I allowed him to stand there a moment or two, then I said pleasantly — ' My boy, why do yon go to that old stable so much t ' He answered, with simple demeanour and without em- barrassment — * Well, I hardly know, sir. There isn't any particular reason, except that I like to be alone, and I amuse myself there.' • * ' You amuse yourself there, do you Y * * Yes, mr,* he replied^ as innocently and simply as before. < Is that all you do there 9 ' * Yes, sir,' he said, looking up with childlike wonderment in his big soft eyes. *Youare«wel' *Yes, sir, sure,* After a pause, I said— * Wicklow, why do you write so much t * * II I do not write much, sir.* * You don't: ' No, sir. Oh, if you mean scribbling, I do scribble some, tor amusement.' A CVBI0V8 BXPSJtIJSNCM. * What do y'ua do with yovr toribbiiiigB t ' * Notliingy sir — throw them away/ *Never send them to anybody T •No, sir.' I suddenly thrust before him the letter to the * OcJoiiel/ He started slightly, but immediately composed himsell. ▲ slight tinge spread itself over his cheek. * How came you to send this piece of scribbling, then f ' •I ney-neyer meant any harm, sir.' * Kever Jieant any harm 1 You betray the armament and condition of the post, and mean no harm by it t ' He hung his head and was silent. < Come, speak up, and stop lying. Whom was this letter intended fort' He showed ngns of distress now ; but quickly collected himself, and replied in a tone of deep earnestness — * I will tell you the truth, sir — ^the whole truth. The letter was never intended for anybody at all. I wrote it only to amuse myselt I see the error and foolishness of h now — but it is the only offence, sir, upon my honour.' ' Ah, I am glad of that. It is dangerous to be writing such letters. I hope you are sure this is the only <me yoa wrotet' ' Yes, sir, perfectly sure.' His hardihood was stupefying. He told that lie with as sincere a countenance as any creature ever wore. I waited • moment to soothe down my rising temper, and then said— 'Wioklow,jog your memory now, and see if you oau help me with two or three little matters which X wish to Inquire aoouu' 'J •!W«. 160 A cxmiova sxpsriencb. 'I will dp my Teiy best, rir/ < Then, to begin mth— who is *< the Master "t* It betrayed him into darting a startled glance at oar fiioes; but that was all. He was serene again in a moment, and tranquilly answered — ^ * 1 do not know, sir.' ' Tou do not know t ' ' I do not know.' ' You are tua't you do not know 1' He tried hard to keep his eyes on mine, but the Rtrain was too great ; his chin sunk slowly toward his breast and he was silent; he stood there nervously fumbling with a button, an object to command one's pity, in spite of his base acts. Presently I broke the stillness with the question— < Who are the " Holy Alliance "f His body shook visibly, and he made a slight random gesture with his hands, which to me was like the appc * >f a despairing creature for compassion. But he made no sound. He continued to stand with his face bent toward thflL ground. As we sat gazing at him, waiting for him to speak, we saw the big tears begin to roll down his cheeks. But he remained silent. After a little, I said — < Tou must answer me, my boy, and you must tell me the truth. Who are the Holy Alliance % * He wept on in silence. Presently I said, somewhat sharply — * Answer the question ! ' He struggled to get command of his voice ; and then^ looking up apptjalingly, forced the words out between his *.W*S. A cumova bxpsbiencr lei rhat ' Oh, have pity cm me, sir 1 I cannot answer it, for I do not know.' 'What!' ' Indeed, sir, I am teUing tlie tmth, I never have heard of the Holy AVIianoe till thiii moment. On my honour, sir, this is so.' 'Qood heavens! Look at this second letter of yours; there, do you see those words, " Holy AUianoe f ** What do you say now I ' He gazed up into my £Etoe with the hurt look of one upon whom a great wrong has been wrought, then said feelingly — * This is some cruel joke, sir ; and how could they play it upon me, who have tried all I could to do right, and have never done harm to anybody t Some one has counterfeited my hand; I never wrote a line of this; I have never seen this letter before \* ' Oh, you unspeakable liar 1 Here, what do you say to thitf* — and I snatched the sympathetio-ink letter from my pocket and thrust it before his eyes. His £ace turned white t— as white aa a dead person's. He wavered slightly in his tracks, and put his hand against the wall to steady himself. After a moment he asked, in so fiunt a voice that it was hardly audible — * Have you — ^read it t ' Our faces must have answered the truth before my Hpa oould get out the false * yes,' for I distinctly saw the courage come back into that boy's eyes. I waited for him to say something, but he kept silent. So at last I said — ' 'Wellf what have you to say as to the revelations in thig letter)' 11 m ■^¥i M A CUBIOVB BXPERIBNCB. H« aniweNd, with porfeot oompoBure— 'Notbiagy ezospt that thej are entiielj liannlaM tad innooent; they oan hurt nobody.' I WM in lomething of % oorDm now, ts I oouldn't din- pfOTe hii anertion. I did not know exactly how to proceed. However, an idea oame to my relief, and I laid — * Ton are sure you know nothing about the Master and .^ ^tHj Alliance, and did not write the letter whieh you ii,y is a A. '•gery t ' <Ye0,tir — imra' I slowly drew out the knotted twine string and hdd it up without speaking. He gazed at it indijflferentlyi^ then looked at me inquirmgly. My patience was sorely taxed. However, I kept my temper down, and said in my usual voice — < Wioklow, do you see thist ' 'Yes, sir.' 'Whatisitt' 'It seems to be a piece of string.' ^ 'Semrut It it a piece of string. Do you recognise it t' ' No, sir,' he replied, as calmly as the words could be uttered. His coolness was perfectly wonderful 1 I paused now for several seconds, in order that the silenoe might add im^ pressiveness to what I was about to say ; then I rose and iaid m^hand on his shoulder, and said gravely— 'It will do you no good, poor boy, none in the world. This sign to the '^ Master," this knotted string, found in one sf the guns on the water-front — * 'Found in the gun ! Oh, nd» no, no t do not say in the V A cujuom jsxpjsBuarai 'O i gtm, but in a oradk in the tomuion 1 — ^it nwii haine been in the oraok 1 ' and down he went on his knees and daaped his handa and lifted up a fietoe that was pitiful to sc^^ so ashy it was, and so wild with tenor. * K0| it was fti the gun.' ^ 'Oh, something has gone wrong ! My €k)d, I am lost I* and he sprang up and darted this way and that^ dodging the hands that were put ont to catch him, and doing his beet to escape from the plaoa But of course escape was im- possible. Then he flung h! js'At on his knees again, eiying with all his might, and dr^ipeu ne around the legs; and so fi^ dung to me and begged and pleaded, saying, ' Oh, have pity on ue 1 Oh, be merciful to me 1 Do not betray me; they would not spare n life a moment 1 Pft>teot me, save me. I will confess everything r It took us some time to quiet him down and modify his fright, and get him into something like a rational frame ol mind. Then I began to question him, he answering hum- bly, with downcast eyes, and fix>m time to time swabbing away his constantly flowing tears. ' * So you are at heart a rebel t' *Yes, sir.* -^ ^Andaspyf .^ . -Yes,Bir,' \, 'And have been acting under distinct orders from ou^ iider « Yes, sir.' •Willingly!' <Yes,8far.' '^M^, perhaps r n 164 A QVmOVB SXPJSMIENCJBL ' YeB, tor; it would do no good todenj it The South ii myooimtzy; my heart is Southern, an(d it ib all in her oanse.'* 'Then the tale you told me of your wrongs and the perseoation of your family was made up for the occasion t ' * They — they told me to say it, sir/ * And you would betray and destroy those who pitied and sheltered you. Do you comprehend how base you are^ you poor misguided thing t ' He replied with sobs only. 'Well, let that pass. To bushiess. Who is the ''Oolonel,'' find where is hel' He began to cry hard, and tried to beg off from answer- ing. He said he would be killed if he told. I threatened to put him in the dark cell and lock him up if he did not come out with the information. At the same time I pro- mised to proteot him from all harm if he made a dean breast. For all answer, he closed his mouth firmly and put on a stubborn air, which I could not bring him out of. At last I started with him ; but a single glance into the dark cell converted him. He broke into a passion of weeping and supplicating, and declared he would tell everything. So I brought him back, and he named the * Colonel,' and described him particularly. Said he would be fcmd at the principal hotel in the town, in citizen's dress. I had to threaten nmi again before he would describe and name the ' Master.' Said the Master would be found at No. 15 Bond Street, New York, passing \mder the name of R. F. Gaylord. I telegraphed name and description to the chief of police of the metropolis, and asked that Qaylord be arrested and held tUl I could send for him. A CUMIOUS MXPSRlXNCm the 'Kour/ said J, 4t ■eenui that there are eeveral of tha eonapinitora ** outade," preeumably in Kew London. Kama and desoribe them.' He named and described three men and two women — all stopping at the principal hotel. I sent out qnieUy, and had them and the * Colonel ' arrested and confined in the fort. 'Next^ I want to know all about your three feUow- eonfipirators who are here in the fort' He was about to dodge me with a &lsehood, I thought j but I produced the mysterious bits of paper which had been found upon two of them, and this had a salutaiy effect upon him. I said we had possession of two of the men, and he must point out the third. This frightened him badly, and he cried out — * Oh, please don't make me ; he would kill me on tht spot I ' I said that that was all nonsense ; I would have some- body near by to protect him, and, besides, the men ihould be assembled without arms. I ordered all the raw recruits ^ be mustered, and then the poor trembling little wretch went out and stepped along down the line, trying to look as indifferent as possible. Finally he spoke a single word to one of the men, and beforo he had gone five steps the man was under arrest. As soon as WicklOw was with us again I had those three men brought in. I made one of them stand forward* and said — ' Now, Wicklow, mind, not a shade's diyergenoe from the exact truth. Who is this man, and wkbt do you know about him r t si A CURIOUS KXPRnmNOk Bdng 'in for it/ ho oast cooMquenoet Mdde, flurteaed hii •jw on the man'i faoe, and spoke itnui^t along without hesitation — to the foUowing efiTeot. ' His real name is Oeorge Bristow. He is from New Orleans ; was second mate of the ooast-paoket ** Oapitol " two years ago; is a desperate oharaotGr, and has seryed two terms for manslaughter— one for killing a deok-hand named Hyde with a oapetan-bar, and one for killing a ronstahont for refusing to heaTe the lead, which is no part of a ronst- ahoufs husinees. He is a spy, and was sent here hy the Colonel to act in that capacity. He was third mate of the ** St. Nicholas ** when she blew up in the neighbourhood of Memphis, in '58, and oame near being lynched for robbing the dead and wounded while they were being taken ashore in an empty wood-boatb' And so forth and so on— he gaye the man's biography in full. When he had finished I said to the man— 'What have you to say to thist' ' Barring your presence^ sir, it is the infomalest lie that «fTer was spoke ! ' I sent h«m back into confinement, and called the others forward in turn. Same result. The boy gare a detailed history of each, without erer hesitiiting for a word or a hat; out all I could get out of either rascal was the indignant assei'tion that it was all a lie. They would confess nothing. I returned them to captiyity, and brought} out tho rest of my prisoners one by one. Wicklow told all about them-— what towns in the South they were from, and erery detail flf their oonneotion with the oonspiracy. But they all denied his facts, and not mn of them co»- A cuMioua sxpsnuurcB. 167 htmd A thing. The men raged, the women oried. Aoooxd- iog to their itories, they were all innooent people from oat Weety and loved the Union above all things in this world. Hocked the gang up, in disgust, and fell to oateohicing Wioklow onoe more. < Where is No. 166, and who is B. B. t ' But there he was determined to draw the line. Neither onaxing nor threats had any effect upon him. Time was flying — ^it was necessary to institute sharp measures. So I tied him up a-tiptoe by the thumbs. As the pain increased it wrung screams from him which were almost more than I ooold bear. But I held my ground, and pretty soon he shrieked out — ' Oh, pleaee let me down, and I will tell I ' ' No — ^yonll tell b^ore I let you down.' Every instant was agony to him now, so out it came r^" 'No. 166, Eagle Hotel 1' — naming a wretched tavern down by the water, a resort of common labouxen, long- shoremen, and less reputable folk. So I released him, and then demanded to know the object of the conspiracy. * To take the Ibii to-night/ said he, doggedly and sob- bing. * Have I got aU the chieiii of the conspiracy t ' ' No. You've got tu\ except those that ave to meet at 166.' < What does << remember XXXX ** mi^%ikV No reply. ' What is the password to No. 166 1 ^ No r^ly. M U m i¥ A CVRIOUS EXPEEIENCS, 'What do those bunches of letters mean— " PFFPP " and ** MMMM ** t Answer t or you will catch it again.' ' I never vnU answer ! I will die first. Now do what jrou please.' ' Think what you are saying, Wicklow. Is it final ! ' He answered steadily, and without a quiver in his ▼oice — ^-. "" ' It is final An sure as I love my wronged country and hate everything this Northern sun shines on, I will die before I will reveal those things.' I triced him up by the thumbs again. When the agony was full upon him, it was heart-breaking to hear the poor thing's shrieks, but we got nothing else out of him. To every question he screamed the same reply : ' I can die, and I wiU die ; but I will never tell.' Well, we had to give it up. We were convinced that he certainly would die rather than confess. So we took him down and imprisoned him, under strict guard. Then for some hours we busied ourselves with sending telegrams to the War Department, and with making pre- parations for a descent upon No. 166. It was stirring times, that black and bitter nighip Things had leaked out, and the whole garrison was on the alert. The sentinels were ti*ebled, and nobody could move, outside or in, without being brought to a stand with a musket levelled at his head. However, Webb and I were less concerned now than we had previously been, because of the fact that the conspiracy must necessarily be in a pretty crippled condition, since so many of its principals were in cmr dutches. ' f] \ that took i A CURI0XT8 BXPEEISKCR 160 ^I detennined to be at No. 166 in good season, capture And gag B. B., and be on hand for the rest when thej anived. At about a quarter past one in the morning 1 crept out of the fortress with half a dozen stalwart and gamy U. S. regulars at my heels — and the boy Wicklow, with his hands tied behind him. I told him we were going to No. 166, and that if I found he had lied again and waa misleading us, he would have to show us the right place or fluffer the consequences. We approached the tavern stealthily and reconnoitred. A light was burning in the small bar-room, the rest of the house was dark. I tried the front door ; it yielded, and we softly entered, closing the door behind us. Then we re- moved our shoes, and I led the way to the bar-rodm. The German landlord sat there, asleep in his chair. I woke him gently, and told nim to take off his boots and precede us ; warning him at the same time to utter no sound. He obeyed without a murmur, but evidently he was badly frightened. I ordered him to lead the way to 166. We ascended two or three flights of stairs as sofdy as a file of cats; and then, having arrived near the farther end of a long hall, we came to a door through the glazed transom of which we could discern the glow of a dim light from within. The landlord felt for me in the dark and whispered me th&t that was 166. I tried the door — it was locked on the' inside. I whispered an order to one of my biggt«t soldiers ; we set our ample shoulders to the door and with one heave we burst it from its hinges. I caught a half-glimpse of a figure in a bed — saw its head dart toward the candle ; out went the light, and we were in pitch darkneas. With one m 1 ^ t ift --JMt'. 170 A CURIOUS EXPERIENCS. big bound I lit on that bed and pinned its occupant down with my knees. My prisoner struggled fiercely, but I got ft grip on his throat with my left hand, and that was a good assistance to my knees in holding him down. Then straight- way I snatched out my revolver, cocked it, and laid the cold barrel wamingly against his cheek. < Now somebody strike a light 1 ' said L ' I've got him safe.' It was done. The flame of the match burst up. I looked at my captive, and, by Qeorge^ it was a young woman 1 I let go and got off the bed, feeling pretty sheepish. Everybody stared stupidly at his neighbour. Nobody had any wit or sense left, so sudden and overwhelming had been the surprise. The young woman began to cry, and covered her face with the sheet. The limdlord said, meekly— ' My daughter, she has been d(mig something that is not right, nichi wahr t * ' Your daughter I Is she your daughter 1 ' * Oh, yeSj she is my daughter. She is just to-night come home from Cincinnati a little bit sick.' ' Confound it, that boy has Ued again. This is not the right 166 ; this is not B. B. Now, Wicklow, you wul find the correct 166 for us, or — hello ! where is that boy I' Gone, as sure as guns ! And, what is more, we &iled to find a trace of him. Here was an awkward predicament. I cursed my stupidity in nov tying him to oim of the menj but it was of no use to bother about that now. What should I do in the present drcumstanoes t— that was the question. That girl mighi be B. B. after ail. I did not A CURIOUS EXPERIENCE, 171 believe it, but still it would not answer to take onbeliel for proof. So 1 finally put my men in a vacant room across the hall from 166, and told them to capture anybody and everybody that approached the girl's room, and to keep the landlord with them, and under strict watch, until further orders. Then I hurried back to the fort to see if all was right there yet. Yes, all was right. And all remained right, I stayed np all night to make sure of that. Nothing happened. I was unspeakably glad to see the dawn come again, and be able to telegraph the Department that the Stars and Striped still floated over Fort TrumbulL An immense pressure was lifted from my bi^ast. Still I did not relax vigilance, of cx)ur8e, nor effort either ; the case was too grave for that. I had up my prisoners, one by one, and harried them by the hour, trying to get them to confess, but it was a failure. They only gnashed their teeth and tore their hair, and revealed nothing. About noon came tidings of my missing boy. He had been seen on the road, tramping westward, some eight miles out, at six in the morning. I started a cavalry lieutenant and a private on his track at once. They came in sight of him twenty miles out. He had climbed a fence and wac wearily dragging himself across a slushy field toward a large old-fiushioned mansion in the edge of a village. They rode through a bit of woods, made a detour, and closed up on the house from the opposite side; then dismounted and skurried into the kitchen. Nobody there. They slipped into the next room, which wa« also unoccupied ; the door fiKMBi that room into the front or sitting room was opem. ~N I, . ' -f! i4 M K ,v«3 •>%*%. 17S A CVRZOVB ES'^^'^VrTCR ■"^^f i They were about to step thron^^ib 3i wl jti t!)v7 heard a low voice ; it was somebody praying. Bo tkey b<»ited reverently, and the lieutenant put bis head in and saw an eld man and an old woman kneeling in a comer of that sitting; -room. It waci the old man ^^bat was praying, and just as he was finishing his prayer, the Wicklow boy opened the front door and stepped in. Both of those old people sprang at him and smothered him with embi-aces, shouting— * Our boy ! our darling 1 Qod be praised. The lost is found ! He that was dead is alive again ! ' Well, sir, what do you think ! Thrt young imp was bom and reared on that homestead; and had royer been five miles away from it in all his life, till the fortii%ht ')efcre he loafed into my quai'ters and gulled me with that maudlin yam of his ! It's as true as gospel That old man was his father-* a learned old retired clergyman rancl tLat old lady was his mother. Lpt me throTT -^ a word or two of explanation concerning that boy ^mA his ^ ; jormances. It turned out that he was a tfcvenous devourer of dime novels and sensation-story papers — therefore, dark mysteries and gaudy heroisms were just In his linoc Then he bad read newspaper reports of the stealthy goings and comings of rebel spies in our midat, and of their lurid purposes and their two or three startling achievements, till his imagination was all afiame on that subject. His constant comrade for gome months had been a Yarkee youth of much tongue and lively fancy, who had served for a couple of yaars as * mud derk ' (that is, subordi- imt^a puiser) on certain of the picket-boats plying betweea New Orleans and points two or three huadr^ miles up thii m flp* A CUMIOUS EXPEBUmCB. in Mi£sissLppi — Whence bia easy facdhty in handling tb^^ irou, ^ •nd other details pertaining; to that region. l*i^ >w 1 %Md spent two or three months in that part of the cot - t^iy \6i0t% the war ; and I knew just enough about it to be oasl j tvken in by that boy, whereas a bom Louisianian would probably have caught him tripping before he had talked fifteen minutes. Do you know the reason he said be would rather die than explain certain of his treasonable enigmas f Simply because he eouJdnH explain them I — ^they had no meaning ; he had fired them out of hL«!i imagination without forethought or afterthought; and so, upon sudden call, he wasn't able to invent an explanation of tham. For instance he couldn't reveal what was hidden in the * sympathetic ink * letter, for the ample reason that there wasn't anything hidden in it ; it was blank paper only. He hadn't put aii)^.I'ing into a gun, and had never intended to— for his letters were al] written uo imaginary persons, and when ^3 hid jne in the stable he always removed the one he h».^ j^ut iMere the (Uj before ; so he was not acquainted with tl at knotted string, since he was seeing it for the first time wbop I $4howed it to him ; but as soon as I had let him find at where it came from, he straightway adopted it, in his romantic fashion, and got some fine effects out of it. He invented Mr. ' Gaylord ;' there wasn't any 15 lend Sti-eet, just then— it had been pulled down three months before. He invented the * Colonel ; * he invented tiie glib histories of those unfortunates wkom I oaptfured and confet>nted with him ; he invented ' B. B, ', * h« even invented Ho. 166, ^ne may say^ tor he didn't knov' tkere wm gueb a number in the Eagle Hotel until we went ti i m A CUMIOUS EXPERIBNCR there. He itx>od Teadj to invent anybody or anything when* ever it wag wanted. If I called for ' ontside ' spiee, he promptly d/uecribed strangenr whom he had aeon at the hotel, and whose names he had happened to hear. Ah, he lived in a gorgeous, mysterious, romantic world during those few sturmg days, and I think it was real to him, and that he enjoyed it clear down to the bottom of his heart. But he made trouble enough for us, and just no end of humiliation. Ton see, on account of him wo had fifteen or twenty people under arrest and confinement in the fort, with sentinels before their doors. A lot of the captives were soldiers and such, and to them I didn't have to apologise ; but the rest were first-class citizens, firom all over the oountry, and no amoimt of apologies was sufficient to satisfy them. They just fumed md raged and made no end of trouble I And those two ladies— one was an Ohio Congressman's wife^ the other a Western bishop's sister — well, the scorn and ridicule and angry tears they poured out on me made up % ikeepsake that was likely to make me remember them for a considerable time, — ^and I shall. 'JChat old lame gentleman with the goggles was a college president from PhUadolphia, who had come up to attend his nephew's funeral He had ^^ever seen young Wicklow before, of course. Well, he not ei.Ay missed the funeral, and got jailed as a rebel spy, but ^ ickiow had stood up there in my quarters and coldly de- scribed him as a counterfeiter, nigger-trader, horse-thief, and fire-bug from the most notorious rascal-nest in Galveston ; A2xd this was a thing which that poor old gentleman couldn't seem to get over at aU. A cumova sxpsrisncr in he the And the War Department 1 But, my soul, letfs draw the curtain oyer that part I Nora. — I ahowed my mannisoript to the Major, and he Mtid: ' Tonr Bufuniliarity with militaxy matten haa betrayed yoa into lome little mistake!. Still, they are piotcrosque ones — let them go } military men will smile at them, the rest wont detect them. Yo« have got the main facts of the history rights and have set them down JDet about as they oceured.'— M . T. ^T * ft- t ' r' THE GREAT REVOLUTION IN PITCAIRN. Let me refresh the reader's memory a little. Nearly a hundred years ago the crew of the British ship Bounty mutinied, set the captain and his officers adrift upon the open sea, took possession of the ship, imd sailed southwaid. They procured wives for themselves among the natives of Tahiti, then proceeded to a lonely little rock in mid-Padfic^ called Pitcaim's Island, wrecked the vessel, stripped her of everything that might be useful to a new colony, and estab- lished themselves on shore. Pitcaim's is so far removed &om the track of commerce that it was many years before another vessel touched there. It had always been considered an uninhabited island ; so when a ship did at last drop its anchor there, in 1808, the captain was greatly surprised to find the place peopled. Although the mutineers had fought among themselves, and gradually killed each other off until only two or three of the original stock remained, these tragedies had not occurred before a number of children had been bom ; so in 1808 the island had a population of twenty-seven persons. John Adams, the chief mutineer, still survived, and was to live many years yet, as governor and patriaich of the flock. THS GSBAT SSVOLVTIOX IJf PITCAIBN. 177 Tearly a Bounty ipon the ithwaid. atives of i-Pacific, k1 her of idestah- ommerce sd there, land; so L808, the peopled. Ivefi, and ee of the occurred 1808 the John s to live he flock. From heing mutineer and homldde, he had turned Ohristian and teacher, and his nation of twenty-seven persons was now the purest and devoutest in Christendom. Adams had long ago hoisted the British flag, and confUtuted his island an appanage of the British crown. To-day the population numbers ninety persons — dzteen meskf nineteen women, twenty-five boys, and thirty girls- all descendants of the mutineers, all bearing the family names of those mutineers, and all speaking English, and English only. The island stands high up out of the sea, and haB precipitous walls. It is about three quarters of a mile long, and in places is as much as h^Jf a mile wide. Such arable land as it affords is held by the several families, ao- oording to a division made many years ago. There is some live stock — goats, pigs, chickens, and cats ', but no dogs, and no large animals. There is one church building — ^used also as a capitol, a school-house, and a public library. The title of the governor hsB been, for a generatio i or two, ' Magis* irate and Chief Kuler, in subordination to Her Majesty the Queen of Great Britain.' It wa« his province to make the laws, as well as execute them. His olfice was elective ; everybody over seventeen years old had t^ vote— no matter about the sex. The sole occupations of the people were faiming and fishing ; their solo recreation, religious services. There has never been a shop in the island, nor any money. The habits and dress of the people have always been primitive, and their laws simple to puerility. They have lived in a deep 8abbe.th tranquillity, far from the wotld and its ambitions Mid vexations, and neither knowing nor caring what wai l! i 1 1! ,; .j^ !.( i 178 TEB QMSAT REVOLVTION IN PITCAIMN. going on in the mighty empires that lie beyond their limit- lau ocean solitudes. Onoe in three or four years a ship touched there, moved them with aged news of bloody battles, devastabing epidemics, fallen thrones, and mined dynasties, then traded them some soap and flannel for some yams and bread-finit, and sailed away, leaving them to retire into their peaceful dreams and pious dissipations once more. On September 8 last, Admiral de Horsey, commander-in- chief of the British fleet in the Pacific, visited Fitcairn's Island, and speaks as follows in his official report to the Admiralty :^- * They have beans, carrots, turnips, cabbxges, and a little maize; pineapples, fig-trees, custard apples, and oranges; lemons and cocoa-nuts. Clothing is obtained alone from passing ships, in barter fof refreshments. There are no springs on the island, but as it rains generally once a month, they have plenty of water, although at times, in former years, they have suffered from drought. No alcoholic liquors, except for medicinal purposes, are used, and a drunkard is unknown. ... ' The necessary articles required by the islanders are best shown by those we furnished in barter for refreshments : namely, flannel, serge, drill, half-boots, combs, tobacco, and soap. They also stand much in need of maps and slates for their school, and tools of ar.y kind are most acceptable. I caused them to be supplied from the public stores with a tTnion-jack for display on the arrival of ships, and a pit saw, of which they were greatly in need. This,, I trust, will meet the approval of their lordships. If the munificent people of England were only aware of the wants of thii r limit- a ship -battles, jmaatieB, eims and ire into )re. inder-in- Htcairn's t to the d a little oranges ; ine from e are no Bk month, a former alooholio , and a i are best ihments : aocO| and slates for liable. I » with a md a pit ;ru8t, will lunifioent bs of thk TKB GREAT REVOLUTION IN PITCAIJtN. 17» fflo»t deserving littlo colonj, they would not long go lUigap- plied. ... * Diyine serrloe is held every Sunday at 10.30 ▲.¥. and at 3 P.M., in the house built and used bv John Adams for that purpose until he died in 1829. It is conducted strictly in aocordanoe with the liturgy of the Church of England, by Mr. Simon Young, their selected pastor, who is much re- ■pected. A Bible class is held every Wednesday, when all who conveniently can, attend. There is also a general meeting for prayer on the first Friday in every month. Family prayers are said in every house the first thing in the morning and the last thing in the evening, and no food is partaken of without asking God's blessing before and after- wards. Of these islanders' religious attributes no one can speak without deep respect. A people whose greatest pleasure and privilege is to commune in prayer with their God, and to join in hymns of praise, and who are, moreover, cheerful, diligent, and probably freer &om vice than any other community, need no priest among them.' Now I come to a sentence in the Admiral's report which he dropped carelessly from hifi pen, no doubt, and never gave the matter a second thought. He little imagined what aireight of tragic prophecy it bore 1 This is the sentence — ' One stranger, an Ameiican, has settled on the island— a doubtful acquisition,'' A doubtful acquisition, indeed I Captain Oimsby, in the American ship Hor^r.etf touched at Pitcaim's nearly four months after the Admiral's visit, and from the facts which he gathCfred there we now know all about that American. iiet us put these facts together, in historical form. The m I i I . m w If*] il IP'' tf ^ \r 1^. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-S) & F.^ c"* 4> > ' :/. ^ 11.25 ja I4J 112.2 u Iii4 iU lii u US. o> ^ V] ^>. ^> 1^ '>> V ^-^ '/ Hiotographic Sciences Coipomlion 33 WIST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 ■1>^ \ iV \ ;\ [\ i .A '« ^ ^j^ ^7^ ^ :^ ^ c\ \ C^ Xf 180 ftB OJSJBAT BSrptVTION m PITCAIEM. Ammictai't name was Batterwortli Stayely. As soon as bff had beoome well aoquaaiited with all the people— and thii took bat ft few dajn, of oourae—he began to ingratiate him- self with them by all the arti he conld command. He became exceedingly popular, and much looked up to; for one of the first things he did was to forsake his worldly way of life, and throw all his energies into religion. He was always reading his Bible, or praying, or singing hymns, or asking blessings. In prayer, no one had such 'liberty ' as he, no one conld pray so long or so welL At Ifist, when he considered the time to be ripe, he began secretly to sow the seeds of discontent among the people. It was his deliberate purpose, from the banning, to subvert the goyemment^ but of course he kept that to himself for a time. He used different arts with different individuals. He awakened dissatis&otion in one quarter by calling attention to the shortness of the Sunday services; he argued that there should be three three-hour services on Sunday instead of only two. Many had secretly held this opinion before ; they now privately banded themselves into a party to work for it. He showed certain of the women that they were not allowed sufficient voice in the prayer-meetings ; thus another party was formed. No weapon was beneath his notice ; he even descended to the children, and awoke discontent in their breasts because-Hw he discovered for them— th^ had not enough Sunday-school. This created a third party. Now, as the chief of thfise parties, he found himself the strongest power in the community. So he proceeded to Ida next move— ft no less important one than the im|Swhment •f the chief magistrate, James Bussell Nickoy ; ft man of TSB GRSAT RBVOLUTION IN PITCATRN, Vd fthantofter and ability, and poneand of gnat wealth, 1i« being the owner of a house wiUi a parlour to it, three acree and a half of yam land, and the only boat in PitoaimX a whale-boat ; and, most onfortnnatelj, a pretesct for this im- peachment offered itself at just the right time. One of the eerliest and most predous laws of the island was the law against trespass. It was held in great reverence, and waa regarded a(i the palladiam of the people's liberties. About thirty years ago an important case came before the oonrts under this law, in this wise : a chicken belonging to Elisa- beth Young (aged, at that time, fift^^ight, a daughter of John Mills, one of the mutineers of the Bmmiy) trespassed upon the grounds of Thursday October Ohristian (aged twenty-nine, a grandson of Fletcher Ohristian, one of the mutineers). Ohristian killed the chicken. Acooruing to the law, Ohristian oould keep the chicken ; or, if he pre- ferred, he could irestore its remains to the owner, and reoeiye ' damages ' in produce to an amount equivalent to the waste and ii\)ury wrought by the trespasser. The court records set forth that 'the said Ohristian aforesaid did deliver the aforesaid remains to the said Elizabeth Young, and did demand one bushel of yams in satisCeMstion of the damage done.' But Elizabeth Young considered the demand exorbitant ; the parties could not agree ; therefore Ohristian brought suit in the courts. He lost his case in the justice's eourt ; at lease, lie was awarded only a half-peck of yams^ which he considered insufficient, and in^ the nature of a defeat. He appealed. The case lingered several years in an ascending grade of courts, and always resulted in decrees sustaining the original verdiet; and finally the thing gn/k 188 TMJ8 OMMAT MSVOLUTtON JOt PITCAOOf. ~ Into the flapreme oourt^ and there it stack for twenty yeen. fiat htfrt Bommery eren the sapreme ooozt mana^ to arrive •t a decision at last. Once more the original verdict waa •ostained. Ohristian then ndd he was satisfied ; bat Starely was preaent> and whispered to him and to his lawyer, sag- gestingy ' as a mere form/ that the original law be exhibited, in order to make sare that it still existed. It seemed an odd idea, but an ingenious one. So the demand was madfii A messenger waa sent to the magistrate's house; he pre- sently returned with the tidings that it had disappeared from amoDg the state archives. "^ The court now pronounced its late decision void, fdnoe it had been made onder a law which had no actual exia* tenoe. Great excitement ensued, immediately. The news swept abroad over the whole island that the palladium of the publio liberties was lost—may be treasonably destroyed. Within thirty minutes almost the entire nation were in the court-room — ^that is to 8ay,iihe church. Hie impeachment of the chief magistrate followed, upon Stavely's motion* Hie accused met his misfortune with the dignity which became his great office. He did not plead, or even argue : he offered the simple defence that he had noib meddled with the missing law; that he had kq>t the state archives in the same candle- box that had been used as their depository firom the beginning; ^md that he was innocent of the rraioval or destruction of the lost document. But nothing could save him; he was found guilly d misprisifm of treason, and degraded from Us office, and all hia property waa confiscated. la 01 in re de in nc gi to re ai m oc m Ah Si n vi n ■c 0* hi TSS QMSAT nsrOLVTlON XN PITCAIMN. 18» Hie lamert pirfe of the whole ahamefid mttttw wm the fMMon eaggested by his enemiee fo? hia deetruotioo of the lawy to wit: that he did it to &your Ohristiaii, beeanee Ohriifitian wae hie cousin I Whereaa Stavelj was the only indiyidnal in the entire nation who was not his cousin. The reader most lemember that all of these people are the descendants of half a dosen men ; that the first children intermarried together and bore grandchildren to the muti- neers 3 that these grandchildren intermarried; after them, great and great-great-grandduldren intermarried : so that today everybody is blood kin to eyerybody. Moreover, the raiationshipB are wonderfdlly, even astoondingly, mixed np and complicated, h. stranger, for instance^ saya to an >ialander— 'Ton speak of that young woman as your oonsin; a while ago you called Tier your aunt.' ^.^-^ ^ ' Well, she u my aunt, and my cousin too. And also my step-dster, my niece, my fourth cousin, my thirty-third oonsin, my forty-second cousin, my greatFaunt, my grand- mother, my widowed sister-in-law-^and next week she will ^Hbe my^wife,* ' So the charge of nepotism against the cMef magistrate was weak. But no matter; weak or strong, it suited Stayely. Stavely was immediately elected to the vacant magistracy; and, oozing reform from eveiy poie, he went vigorously to work. In no long time religious services raged everywhere and unceasingly. By command, the second prayer of the Sunday morning service, which had crustomarily endured some thirty-five or forty minutes, and hid pleaded for tbe world, first by continent and tim hf '^^-% ■ Bfttioiiil aa^' tribal dfltail, waf tttendiad to an lionr and a ha]^ ind made to indade aapplidatdoDfl in behalf of the pOBRible peoples fii the Bereral plaseti. Everybody waa pleased with this ; eveiybody said, < Now ihU is something Uke** Bj oommand, the usual three-hour sennons were doubled in length. The nation came in a body to testier their gratitude to the new magistrate. The old law forbid- ding cooking on the Sabbath was extended to the prohibition of eating, also. By command, Sunday-sohool was priyileged to spread over into the week. The joy of all classes was complete. In one riM>rt month the new magistrate had become the people's idol t The time Was ripe for this man's next move. He began, cautiously at first, to poison the public mind against England. He took the chief oituens aside, one by one, and conversed with them on this topic Presently he grew bolder^ and spoke out. He said the nation owed it to itself to its honour, to its great traditions, to rise in its might t^A throw off 'this galling English yoke.' ' But the simple islanders answered— ' We had not noticed that it galled. How does it gall! England sends a ship once in three or four years to give us soap and clothing, and things which we sorely need and grateCblly receive ; but she never troubles us ; she lets us go ourownway.' * 8he lets you go your own way ! So slaves have felt and spoken in all the ages I This speech shows how fijlen yon are^ how base, how brulalised, you have become^ under this grinding tyranny 1 What I has all manly pride fxnt' saken yont Is.liberty notMng t Are you content to be * of th# f dthing tertiiy forUd- ibltion nleged 90 was be bad began, Rgainsfc ae, and grew it to in its t t gall! j^ve na Bd and BUB go .ve felt fiillen under de fjot' » be 1^ TSS OBSAT MSrOLUTIOJr IN FITCjUMN. IW mere appendage to a ftneign and bateAil aoTernigntj, wben joa migbt riae np and take your rigbtftJ place in tbe august fiunily of nations, great, free, enligbtened, ind^ pendent, tbe minion of no Boeptred master, but tbe arbiter of your own destiny, and a Yoioe and a power* In de- creeing tbe destinies of your sister soTereignties of tbe world!' Speeobes like tbis produced an effect by-and-by. Oitlaens began to feel tbe Englisb yoke; tbey did not know ezactly bow or wbereabouts tbey felt it, but tbey were perfectly eertain tbey did feel it. Tbey get to grumbling a good deal, and obcfing under tbeir obams, and longing for relief and release. They presently fell to bating; tbe Englisb flag^ tbat sign and symbol of their nation's d«>gradation ; tbey ceased to glance up at it as they passed the capjitol, but aTsrted their eyes and grated their teeth; and one morning, when it was found trampled into tbe mud at the foot of the sta£^- they left it there, and no man put bis band to it to hoist it again. A certain thing wliiob was sure t6 happen sooner or later happened now. Some of the chief oitiaens went to tbe magistrate by night and said — *We cain enduro this hated tyranny no longer. How can we cast it off f 'EowT 'A eotif) SdUA, It is Uke this : everything is got ready, and at the appointed moment I, as the official bead of the nation, publicly and solemnly proclaim its independence^ and absolTe it from allegiance to any and Ul other powers whatsoever.' r 180 TBM GMAT SSVOLUTION ^N PlTOAim, 'That loiindi simple acd eMj. We oah do th*4 right away. Then what will be the next thing to do T ' ' Seiie All the defenoei and publio properties of tSl kinds, eetablieh martial law, put the army and navy on a war footing, iud proclaim the empire 1 ' This fine programme dazzled these innooenti. Thsy said— 'This if grand— this is splendid; but will not £ngkad resistl' 'Let her. This rook is a Gibraltar.' ' Tme. Bat about the empire t Do we n$ed an empirs^ and an emperor 1 ' 'What you need, mj Mends, Is unification. Look at* Qermany y look at Italy. They are unified. TTnifieation is the thing, It makes living dear. That constitutes pro- gress. We must have a standing army, and a navy. Taxes followy as a matter of course. All these things summed up make grandeur. With unification and grandeur, what more can you want t Yery well — only the empire can oon- fisr these boons." So on Deoembor 8 Pitcaim's Island was proclaimed m fl[«e and indepandlent nation; and on the same day the solemn coronation of Batterworth I., emperor of Fitcaim's Island, took place, amii great r^oidngBr^and festivities. Tbe entire nation, with the eocoeption of fourteen persons, mainly little children, marched past the throne in single file, with banners and music, the procession being upwaida of ninety feet long ; and some jaid it was as mudi as three quarteni of a minute passing a j^yen point. Nothing like it Tsjs onsAT jtBroinriON nr pircAJOtif. m I \mA evw been eeeik In the histoiy of the idand belbre^ Pablio eiithiuiAam mm meesorelMM. Kow itnigfatwaj imperud reforms b^gan. Ordcm ol nbbili^were instituted. ▲ minister of the navy wis appointed, and the whale-boat put in commission. A minister of 'var was created, and order to proceed at once with the fonnation of a standing army. A first lord of tha treasury was named, and commanded to get up a taxation scheme^ and also open negotiations for treaties, offensiTe^ defensiye, and oommerdal, with foreign powers. Some generals and admirals were appointed ; also soiae chamber- lains, some equerries in waiting, and some lords of the bed* chamber. At this point jJl the material was used up. The Grand DukA of Galilee, minister of war, complained that all the sixteen grown men in the empire had been given great offices, and cousequMiily would not consent to serve in the ranks; wherefore his standing army was at a standstilL The Biai^uis of Ararat, minister of the navy, made a similar complaint. He said he was willing to steer the whale-boat himself, but he mtMt have somebody to man her. The emperor did the best he could in the cinjumstanoet; he took ail the boys above the age of ten years away from tiieir mothers, and pressed them into the aimy, thus con* structing a corps of seventeen privates, officered by one lieutenant-general and two m^jor-g^nerals. This pleased tftA minister of war, but procured the enmity of all the mothers in the land ; for they said their predous ones muft DOW find bloody grares 5n the fields of trar, and he would \m •OBwenihle for fL Sorite of the more heart-broken and k*- 188 TMB GlfJUT MBVOZUTION XN PITCAISlf. inappetMble among thflm by oonsUaily in wait for the •mparor and threw yama at him, unmindfol of tha body- guard. On account of the extreme ioarcity of material, it wai found neoeisary to require the Duke of Bethany, pott- mastergeneral, to pull etrokoKNtf in the navy, and thus idt In the rear of a noble of lower degree, name^, Viscount Oanaan, lord-justice of the oommon-pleaa. This turned the Duke of Bethsay into a tolerably open malcontent and a ■eoret conspirator—* thing which the emperor foresaw, but oould not help. Things went from bad to worse. The emperor raised Nancy Peters to the peerage on one day, and married her the next, notwithstanding, for reesons of state, the cabinet had strenuously advised him to marry Emmeliney eldest daughter of the Archbishop of Bethlehem. This caused trouble in a powerful quarter — ^the church. The new empress secured the support and friendship of two-thirds of the thirty-six grown women in the nation by absorbing them into her courts as iiaids of honour ; but this made deadly enemies of the remaining twelve. The fSunilies ol the mui^ of honour soon began to rebel, because then was now nobody at home to keep house. The twelve snubbed women refused to enter the imperial kitchen as'servants; ao the empress had to require the Oounteps of Jericho and other great court dames to fetch water, sweep the palace^ and perform other menial and equally diaitaateful servioes. This made bad blood in that department. Bveiybody fell to complaining that the taxes levied for the suiqfKxrt of the army, the navy, and the rest of the ur. TMM anSAT MXrOLUTION XN PITCAIBNr 181 for tht • bodj- 7* P<**- thufl di riscouni ned the t and a law, but tr laifled ried her cabinet i, eldest I caused he new liirds of beorblng is made nilies of ere was Bnabbe:^ nryante; eho and » palace, aorvioee. Yied tot of the Imperial eatabUihrnent were intdUrablj burdioaome, and were reducing the nation to beggaiy. The emperor^i reply — ' Look at Qermanj; look at Italy. Are you better than theyt and haTen*t jou unification t'— did not satisfy them. Thej said, ' People can't ^tU unification, and we aiv starving. Agriculture has oeased. Everybody is in the army, everybody is in the navy, everybody is in the public service, standing around in a uniform, with nothing whatever to do, nothing to ei^t, and nobody to till the fields—' < Look at Qermany ; look at Italy. It is the same thera Budh is unification, and there's no other way to get it — 1 no other way to keep it after you've got it,' said the pooi emperor always. But the grumblers onlv replied, 'We can't stofid the taxes — ^we can't Hand them ' Now right on top of tb ' 3 cabinet reported a national ctobt amounting to upwards wi forty-five dollars— -half a dollar to every individual in the nation. And they proposod to fund something. They had heard that this was always done in such emergencies. They proposed duties on exports; also on imports. And they wanted to issue bonds; also paper money, redeemable in yams and cabbagee in fifty years. They said the pay of the army and of the navy and of the whole governmental machine was &r in airean, and unless something was done^ and done immediately, national bankruptcy must ensue, and possibly insurrection and' revo- lution. The emperor at once resolved upon a high-handed measure, and one of a nature never belbre heard of in Fit- eaim's Island. He went in state to the ohurdh on Sunday *• li IQO TMOt QJtMAT MMFOLUTION IN PITOAIMN. BORi^, with tilt •rmj at hii Imch, tad oomniMxded tht loiniftar (^tha treafury to t«ke ap ft oollaotioiu That WM tlie feather that broke th« oamers taek. Fint one dtixen, aad than another, roee and refUeed to inbmit to thia unheard^ outrage — and each refusal wai followed bj the immediate oonfieeation of the malcontent*a property.' /Hiifl rigour ioon stopped the refusals, and the ooUeotion prooeoded amid a sullen and ominous silence. As the emperor withdrew with the troops, be said, ' I will teach you who is master here.' Seyeral persons shouted, * Down with unification.' They were at once arrested and torn (turn the arms of thev weeping friends by the soldiery. But in the meantime, as any prophet might hare forsh' seen, a Social Democrat had been developed. As the emperor stepped into the gilded imperial wheelbarrow at the church door, the social democrat stabbed at him fifteen . or sixteen times with a harpoon, but fortunately with such a peculiarly social demomtio unpredsion of sim us to do no damage. That very night the oonvulsion came. The nation rose as one man — ^though forty-nine of the revolutionists were of the other sex. The in£emtry threw down their pitchforks | tho artillery cast aside their cocoarnuts ; the navy revolted ; the emperor was seised, and bound hand and loot in his palace. He was very much depressed. He said — * I fi:eed you from a grinding tyrayny ; I lifted you up out of your degradation, and made you a nation among nations ; I gave you a stro^, compact, centralised govern- ment; and, more ^han all, I gave you the blessing of blest* ings— unificatioit. I have done all thi^; and my reward Is tlf. led tht > Fifit bmitto ired bj typertj.' tlleotioti Ai the U teaoh 'Down imfiNMii Te fowH." As the jitnr el 1 fifteen ith Buob to do no ion rose were of Morlrs ; BYolted ; fe in hii yon up among govern- >f bleflih iward k MM OBMAT EMVOLVTION IN PtTOAJBN, 101 hatred, fatfolt, and theee bonda. Take mej do with me m ye will. I here redgn mj orown and all my dignitiee, and gladly do I leleaacf myielf from their too heayy burden. For yonr take I took them up ; for your lake I Uy them down. The imperial jewel ie no more ; now braiae and defile aa ye will the uaeleea letting.' By a unanimous roioe the people oondemned the ex- emperor and the social democrat to perpetual banishment from ehuroh servioes, or to perpetual labour as galley-slaves in the whale-boat — whioherer they might prefer. The next day the nation aasembled again, and rehoisted the British flag, reinetated the British tyranny, rednoed the nobility to the condition of commoners again, and then straightway turned their diligent attention to the weeding of the mined and neglected ysm patches, and the rehabilitation of the old useful industries and the old healing and solacing pieties. The ez-emperor restored the lost trespass law, and explained that he had stolen it — ^not to ii^nre any one, but to fbrther his political projects. Therefore the nation gave the late chief magistrate Jbis office again, and also his alienated property. Upon rejSection, the ex-emperor and the social democrat chose perpetual banishment from rdigious services, in pio lerence to perpetual labour as gaUey-slaves ' wi$h perpetual nUgious services,' as they phrased it; wherefore the people believed that the poor fellows' troubles had unseated their reason, and so they judged it best to confine them for the piresent. Which they did. Bach ia tlie history of Fitoaim's 'doubtful aequuitioiL' \ m y MRS. McWILLIAMS AND THE LIGHTNING. Well, Gir-~Gontinaed Mr. McWOliamSi for this was not the beginning of his talk—the fear of %htmng iB one of th«. most distreBfidng infirmitieB a human being can be afflicted with. It is mostly confined to women; but now and then you find it in a little dog, and aometimea in a man. It is a particularly distreflsing infirmity, for the reason that ii (okea the sand out of a person to an extent which no other fear ean, and it can't be rMjomtd with, and neither can it be shamed out of a person. A woman who could face the very devil himself— or a mouse—loses her grip and goes all to pieces in front of a flash of lightning. Her fright is some* thing pitiful to see. Well, as I was telling yon, I woke up, with that smothered and unlocatable cry of ' Mortimer 1 Mortimer ! ' wailing in my ears; and as soon as I could scrape my Acuities together I reached over in the dark, and then said— < Evangeline, is that you calling t What is the matter I Where are you r * Shut up in the boot-closet. Ton ought to be ashamed (o lie there and sleep so, and iooh an awfiil storm goinf MB8. MoWTLUAMa AND TWS LIOJBTiajm. IM Why, how am one be aeh*med wbec h^ it aiSeep t It le ashamed nhum he is adeep^ is unreaaonaUe: a man ean*\ > ETangeline.' 'You never try, MortSmer — jaa know rery well foa Barer try.' I caught the sound of muffled soba. That sound smote dead the sharp speech that was on my HpSi and I changed it to-^ *rm sorry, dear — I'm truly sony. I never meant to act so. Oome hack and— ' 'MOBTIMEBt' ' 'tPKflHI^ * Heavens 1 what is the miatter, my lovet' * Do you mean to say you are in that bed yet t ' *Why; of course.' < Come out of at instantly. I should think you would take some Utile care of your life, liar n^ sake and the ehil- drea's, if you will not tot your own.' « But my love ' * Don't talk to me, Mortimer. Tofu know there is no place so dangerous as a bed, in such m thunderstorm as this — all the books say that; yet there yon would lie, and de- liberately throw away your life—for goodness knows what unless for the sake of ai^^uing and arguing, and * * But, confomid it^ Evangeline^ I'm 9io< in the bed, now, rm— ' [Sentence interrupted by a sudden glare of lightning, followed by a terrified little scream horn Mrs. MoWilliams and a tremendous Mast of thunder.] ' There I You see the result Oh, Mortimer, how ywi be so profligaie as to swear at such a time asthiat' M sots. McWXLLIAMB AHO) TMS ZIGMTNIWG. <I didik'i fwcftr. And that wam't a result of tt^anj Wij. It would hATe jome. juBt the eame, if I hadn't said a word; and yon know very well, Evangeline — at least yon onght to know — ^that when the atmosphire is bhaiged with •leotrioily * ' '■ , r ' * Oh yes, now argue it, and aigoe it^ and argue it t — ^I don't see how you can act so, when you know there is not a lightning-rod on the place, and your poor wife and children are absolutely at the meroy of FlK>Tid6noe. What are you doing f — flighting a match at such a time as this 1 Are yon ftarkmadf * Hang it, woman, where's the harm t The place is. as dark as the inside of an infidel, and * * Put it out 1 put it out instantly ! Are you deteniuned to sacrifice us alii Tou hfium there is nothing attracts lightning like a light. \Fzt I — wmK I boom — bdoam-hoom' hoomf] Oh, just hear it I Now you see what you've donel' ' Ko, I don*i see what Tve done. A match may attract lightning, for all I know, but it don't ectute lightning — ^111 go odds on that. And it didn't attract it worth a cent this time; for if that shot was levelled at my match, it was Messed poor markmanship — about an average of none out of a possible million, I should say.. Why, at Dollymount^ Msh marksmanship as that—' * For shame, Mortimer 1 Here we are standing right ia the very presence of death, and yeC in so solemn a moment yoc are capabb of using such language as that. If you have me desire ^} — <WeUf Mortimer I' h MBA McWILlIAMS AND TMB LIOHTmNG. IN •ay id a you witk fe!-I not a ildien •tfyou e yoH \ it. at •minod ttraoUi you've attraol g-ra mtthia it was ae out lounti * i)id jou say your prayers to-night t * < I — ^I — ^meant to, but I got to fxjiag to cipher out how much twelve times thirteen is, and ' [Fzif — boom-herroom4H>om / 5umM!Mffiii20 (oti^-SMAaR !] 'Oh, we axe lost, beyond all helpl ^ow cofM jom Mglect snoh a thing at such a time as this t ' 'But it foatnH "such a time as this." There wasn't a cloud in the sky. How could / know there was going to be all this rumpus and pow-wow about a little slip like thatt And I don't think it's just fair for you to make so much out of it, anyway, seeing it happens so seldom; I haven't missed before since I brought on that earthquake^four yean ago.' ' MoBTiMEB I How you talk t Have you forgotten the yellow fevert' . ' My dear, you are always throwing up the yellow Saver to me, and I think it is perfectly unreasonable. You can't even send a telegn^hic message as far as Memphis without relays, so how is a little devotional slip of mine going to can}^ Bo&rt m «ton(2 the earthquake, because it was in the neigh- bourhood ; but 111 be hanged if I'm going to be responsible for every blamed—' ^ [Fet t — ^BOOM 6eroofifr-boom t boom t — ^B AKQ Q ' Oh, dear, dear, dear I I hnoto it struck something, Mor* timer. We never shall see the light of another day ; and if it will do you any good to remember, when we are gone, that your dreadful language— i/br^MTMr/* •Well! Whatnowl' '.Tour vdoe sounds as if-^-— Mortimer, are youactuaily standing in fix)nt of that open fireplace t ' ■f'-: f Mfl' Its MM> M0WXZZZ4MS AND TOB lI0aTNJar9. 'That k tlie y€K7 oriine I Am oommittiiig/ ' Get away from it, this moment Yov do leem date* mined to bring deetraotion on ns all. Don't yon know that there ii no bettor oondnotor for lightning than an open diimney 1 Now where bare you got to 9 ' ' Tm here by the window.' * Oh, for pity's lake, have you lost your mind t Clear out firom there^ this moment. The yery children in arms know it ia fatal to stand near a window in a thunderstorm. Dear, dear, I know I shall never see the light of another day. MoHimer t ' <Yesl' < What is that rustling !• * , 'It's me.' ' What are you doingt ' * Trying to find the upper end of my pantaloons.* 'Quick ! throw those things away I 1 do believe yon would deliberately put on those clothes at nmch a time as this; yet you know perfectly well that all authorities agree that woollen stuffii attract lightning. Oh, dear, dear, it isn't sufficient that one's life must be in peril from natural causes, but you must do everything you can possibly think of to augment the danger. (Hi, don*t sing ! What can yon be thinking oft' 'Kow Where's the harm in itt ' 'Mortimer, if I have told you once, I have told yon a hundred times, that singing causes vibrations in the atmo- sphere which interrupt the flow of the electric fluid, and— » What on minh are you opening that door fori' 'Goodness graoba^ wtMsan, Is IhcM any harm ia <Aiil f' ?. MM6, McWILLZAMS AND TMM LIGSTSINO. lOT that open irout know Dear, day. toe yon agree isn't aiises, of to oa be jroa a ai«u>- haif* *Smrm/ There'a <i0o<ft m it Anybody that haa ghm Uiia anljeet any aCtentioa knows thai to oreate a dranglii is to invite tbe li^tning. Ton haven^t balf shut it; shut it lf0FA^-«nd do hiiny, or we are all destroyed. Oh, it is aa awfol thing to be shot up with a lunatic at snoh a time as this. Mortimer, what are yon doing 1 ' 'Nothing. Just turning on the water. Uiia room is smothering hot and dose. I want to bathe my fiioe and htm df t < Ton have oertainly parted with the remnant of your mind I Where lightning strikes any (^her subetance onoe^ it strikes water fiffy times. Do torn it ofL ' Oh, dear, I aa tore that nothing in this world oan ssto vol It does seem to me that Mortimer, what was that t ' * It was a d a it was a picture. Ejiocked it down;* ' Then you are dose to the wall 1 I nerer heardof sudi imprudence t Don't you know that there 's no better ooop duqjbor for lightning than a wallt Ck>me away from there 1 And you oame as near as anything to swearing, too. Oh. how oan yon be so desperatdy wicked, and your family in sndi perilt Mortimer, did you order a feather bed, as I asked you to dot' «No. Forgot it' 'Forgot it 1 It may cost you your life. If you had f featner bed, now, and oould spread it in the middle of the room and lie on it, you would be perfectly safe. Come in |uiok, before you haye a ohancd to commit any firantio indisoretioiis.' tiied, but the little closet would not hold us both with 106 Mna. MpWULIAMS ANP TBS IT&MTmjrO, I '^-^ tha door ihiit^ imleBi we oonld be oontent to ouoSliflr. I guped awhile^ then forced my way out. My wHb oalled ©at — * MarHmBT, sometbing must be done for yrar preeevT»- tion. Oive me tbat Qerman book that is on the md of the mantel-pieoe, and a candle; but don't light it; give nue a match ; I will light it in here. That book has some direo- tionsinii' I got the book — at cost of a vase and some other brittle things ; and the madam shut henelf up with her candle. I had a moment's peace ; then she called out— ' Mcrdmery what was that f ' ' Nothing but the cat/ ' The cat 1 Oh, destruction ! Catch her, and shut her up in the wash-stand. Do be quick, love ; cats are full of eleotrioily. I just know my hair will turn white with this night's awful perils.' I heard the muffled sobbings again. But for that, I should not bave moved band or foot in such a wild enter- prise in the dark. However, t went at my task— over chairs, and against tSi sorts of obstructions, all of them haid ones, too, and most of them with sharp edges — and at last I got kitty cooped up in the commode, at an expense of over four hundred dollars in broken furniture and shins. Then these muffled words eame from the doset ^— < It says the safest thing is to stand on a chair in the middle of the room, Mortimw ; and the legs of the dbalr must be insulated with non-conduetors. That is, you must >f the ehair in glass tnmUera. [Fti f-^hooiifh^ MMa. MtWUsLlAMB Aim TMM ZIOSTNJNG, 100 imig /—-mnaih f] Oh, hear thatt Do hnrtj, Mortinwr, before yon ere limek.' I managed to find and aecore the tnmbleri. I got the laat fonp— broke all the reat I inenlated the ohair legi^ and called for further inatmotiona. ' Mortimer, it aaya ** WUhrend eihee Cknritteni entfone man MetaUe^ wie i. B., Binge, Uhren, SohliUnel, eto., von aioh nnd halte eioh anch nioht an solohen SteUen aiif, wo Tiele MetaDe bei einander liegen, oder mit andem Kttrpem ▼erbunden sind, wie an Harden, Oefen, Biaengittem a. d^" What does that meaii, Mortimer f Doea it mean that you ■tiuit keep metala about yon, or keep them away from yont' * Well, I hardly know. It appears to be a little mixed. All Qerman advioe is more or less mixed. However, I thmV that that sentence is mostly in the dative case, with a little genitive and aoonsative sifted in, here and there^for lock ; so I reckon it means that you must keep some metals dboui you.' '* Yes, that must be it. It stands to reason that it ia. They are in the nature of lightning-rods, you know. Put on your fireman's helmet, Mortimer ; that is mostly metaL' I got it and put it en — a very heavy and clumsy and micomfortable thing on a hot night in a doee room. Even my night-dress seemed to be more clothing than I strictly needed. * Mortimer, I think your middle ought to be protect Wont you buckle on your militia sabre, please 9 ' I complied. * Now, Mortimer, yon ought to have some way to proteel yonrfosl Do please put on your q^un.' m XMSL mWUMSMS AND TMS ZIOMTmK&. I did it— In aUano o ■ md kepi mj temp«r m wdl m | coull. 'MdrtiDMr, it myu, «Das Qewitter Unten lit sehi^ ge- fUirlioh, mSl die Giodke selbst^ aowie der dundi das LKuten reranliuKte Luftzag und die WSb» dee Thurmes den Bliti •iiiiehe& kdnnten." Mortimer, does tliat mean that it !■ dftDgerom not to ring the ehorch belli daring a thande»>- ■torml' ' Tee, it soema io mean t^iat— -if that ia the past, participle <>f the nomioatiTe c&ae singular, and X reckon it ia. Yea, I think it meana that on account of the height of the churah tower and the absence of Luftuswg it would be very dang^roui {Hhir ge/ahrU^) not to ring the bells in time ^ a atom ; and moreover, don't you see, the very wordinf^ ' . 'Never mind that, Mortimer; don't wa^^te thepredoua time in talk. Get the large dinner-bell; it is righi theie in the hall. Quick, Mortimer dear; we are almost safe. Oh dear, I do believe we are going to be saved at lastr Our little summer establishment stands on top of a high ran^,^ of hilla, overlooking a valley. Several fiirm-houaea are in our neighbourhood— the nearest aome three or four hundred yards away. When I, mounted on the chair, had been danging that dreadfhl bell a matter of seven or eight minutes, our shutters were suddenly torn Oj^an from without, and a brilliant bull's tye lantern was thrust in at the window, followed by a hoarse inquiry' :—. ' What in the natalon la the matter here! ' Tha window was full of men's heads, and the heads mn MOUI. McWIlLIAMB AND tSS LIQJBTNUIfQ. fOi I Ml olf eyes that ftazed wildly «t my night-dr«Mi aad my warliJke toooaticmenta. I dropped the bell^ skipped down from the ohair in oon- fadxok, and eaidl — ' There is nothing the matter, friends— only a litUe dit- eomfort on aooonnt of the thnnder-fltorm, I was trying to keep off the lightning/ 'Thnn er-9tonnt lightning! Why, Mr. McWilliami^ haTO yon lost yoor mind 1 It is a heaatifrd starlight night ; there has been no storm.' I looked out| and I was io astonished I oould hardly qpeak for a while. Then I said : — * I do not nndentand this. We distinctly saw the glow of the flashes through the curtains and shatters^ and heard the thunder.' One alter another of those people lay down on the ground to laugh— and two of them died. One of the suniTom remarked :— y Pity you didn't think to open your blinds and look orer to the top of the high hill yonder. What you heard was cannon; what you saw was the flash. You see, the telegraph brought some news, just at midnight: Garfield's nominated — and that^s what's the matter 1 ' Tes, Mr. Twain, as I was saying in the beginning (said Mr. LXoWilliams), the rules for preeenring people against lightning are so excellent and so innumerable that the most Inecnnpi^diensible thing in the world to me-is how anybody •reir manages to get struck. So saying; he gathered up his satchel and umbraUa, and ieparted; £ar the tnin had reached his town. ^ "€ ON THE DECAY OF THE ART OP LYING. BaBAT, fOB DISOUBUOR, BHAD AT A MBBTIHO OF THB ^ISTOBIOAL AHD ARTIQUABIAil OLUB OV HABTVOBD, AND OFFBBBD VOB THB THIBTT-DOLLAB PBZKB. NOW 11B8T«^UBUBHBD.* Obbbbyb, I do not mean to suggest that the euitom of lying has suffered any deoay or interraption — ^no, for the lie, aa a Yirtae, a Principle, is eternal; the lie, as a recreation, a solace, a refuge in time of need, the fourth Grace, the tenth Muse, man's best and surest friend, is immortal, and cannot perish from the earth while this Club remains. My com- plaint simply concerns the deoay of the ar< of lying. No high-minded man, no man of right feeling, can contemplate the lumbering and slovenly lying of the present day without grieying to see a noble art so prostituted. In this Teteran presence I naturally enter upon, this theme with diffidence; it is like an old maid trying to teach nursery matters to the mothers in IsraeL It would not become me to criticise you, gentlemen, who are nearly all my elders — and my superiors, iiiSihis thing — and so, if I should here and there §etm to do H^ I trust it will in most cases be more in a spirit of admiia- > Did not take the piiai^ J>B€AT or TSB AMT OF LYING. Uqb than of iknli-ilncliikg; bdeed If thii finM^ of tlii ftM •rti bad e yt rj fw h w reoalTed tlM attention, tno cmr aga m mt^ Mid oonaoiantioiia praotioe and derdtypment wbibh thk Oliib htm doTotod to it, I ahoold Dot need to utter this lament, or iihed a dbglo tear. I do not ea j thia to flatter : laayitina ■iniit of jaft and appreoiatiTe recognition. [It had been mj Intention, at thii point, to mention namee and give iUnstn^ tiye apecimena, bat indioationa obeerraUe ftboat me admo- niahed me to beware of partionlan and oonilne myeelf to genentlitiea.] Ko £Mst la more flnnly eetaUiahed than that lying ia a neoearily of our ciroumatanoea — ^the deduction that it ia then a Virtue goes without aaying. Ko virtue can reach ita higfaeat uaeAilneee without careftil and diligent oultlTation—' therctoe^ it goea without saying, that this one ought to be taught in the public sohodls— at the fireside— «Ten in the newspapers. What chance has the ignorant, unoultiTated liar against the educated ezpertt What chance have I against Mr. Per—* against a lawyer. Judieiotti lying is what , the world needs. I som^|iimes think it were even better and safer not to lie at all than to lie iigudidouflly. An awkward, unscientific lie ia often as ineflfeotnal as the truth. Kow let us see what the philoeophers say. Note that venerable proTerb: Oh5}dren and fools ahoay$ speak the truth. The deduction Is plain — adults and wise persons mever speak it. Parkman, the historian, says, ' The prindplo of truth may itself be carried into an abeurdity.' In an- other place in the same chapter he says, * The saying is old, that truth should not be qpoken at all times; and those whom a sick consoienoe worries into habitual violati^ of th« 10* BECAY OF TMM AMT 09 tYIMQ. maxim are imbeoilM and nqlaanoea.* It if abrong laogiiafa^ Imt tnw. None of va oonld Unt with an habitual trntb- tellar; hot thank goodneM none of ua haa lo. Am habitual trath-tellar ia limply an impoaaibla oreatoro; ha doaa not cijat ; he never haa eziatad. Of oonne there are people who ikink they never lie, bat it ia not ao—^md thia ignoranoe la one of the very things that shame our ao-oalled oiviliaation* Eyerybody lies — every day; every hour; awake ; asleep; in his dreams; in his Joy; in his moamii<g; if he keeps his tongoe still, his hands, his feet, his ey^ his attitude, will eonvey deception — and purposely. Even in sermons — ^bol that ia a platitude. In a far country where I onoe lived the ladies used to go around paying calls, under the humane and kindly pretenoe of wanting to see each other ; and when they returned homs^ they would cry out with a glad voice, saying, ' We made six- teen calls aod^found fourteen t^ them out'— not meaning that they found out anythingngainst the fourteen — no, that ^waa only a colloquial phrase to signify that they were not at hom»— and their manner of saying^it expressed their lively satisfaction in that fact. Now their pretence of wanting to see the fourteen — and the other two whom they had been less lucky with— was that commonest and mildest ferm of lying which is sufficiently described aa a deflection from the truth. Is it justifiable t Most certainly. It is beautiful^ it is noble ; for its object is, nof to reap profit, but to oonvey a pleasure to the sixteen. Hie iron^souled truth-monger would plainly manifest, or even utter the fact that he didn't want to see those people— and be would be an ass, and infliat a totally unnecessary pain. And next, those ladioi in thai nBCAT or TMM AMT OF LYUTO. iff oonntry — but nsmr mind, tliej luid * thooMiid pleMuil w»7i of Ijingf thftt grew out of gentk impulMi, and w«ra % oreditto t&«irintelligenoeMidanhoDoartotlieirbiMrte. Ltt tho {MurtioulAni go. Hie men in that fluroomitrj were HuiyOTwy one. Their nme howdy-do wae % lie, beoaoae ikty didn't OAre how 700 did, ezoept Ihey wer^ nnderteken. To the ordinary inquirer yon lied in retnm ; for yon made no ooneoientioiui diagnoais of your oaae, but answered at random, and usually missed it ooniiderahly. Ton lied to the undertaker, and said your- health was failing— a wholly commendable lie, sinoe it cost yon nothing and pleased the other man. If a stranger called and interrupted you, yon said with your hearty tongue, ' Fm glad to see yoo,' and said with your heartier soul, * I wish you were with the cannibals and it was dinner-time.' When he went, you said regretfully, *M%iU you got" and followed it with a ' Call agidn :' but you did no harm, for yon did not deceive anybody nor inflict any hurt, whereas the truth would have made you both unhappy. I think that all this courteous lying is a sweet and loving art, and should be oultivat(>d. The highest perfection of politeness is only a beautiful edifice, built^ from the base to the dome^ of gracef%il and gilded forms of charitable and nnseififih lying. What I bemoan is the growing prevalence of the brutal imth. Let us do what we can to eradicate it. An iigurious truth has no merit over an ii\jnrious lie. '^Neither should ever be uttered. The man who speaks an ii\jurious truth lest his soul be not saved if he do otherwise, should reflect that that sort cf a soul is not strictly worth saving. The ■> ■ ■■'■ SOB 1>SCAT OMT TEJB AMT OF LYnTB. man who tells a lie to help a poor devil out of troaUe li one of whom the an^pde doubUeas say, ' Lo, here le an heroie •onl who casta his own welfare into jeopardy to Bucoonr his neighbour'a; let us exalt this magnanimous liar/ An ii\juiioiis lie is an nncommendable thing; and so, also, and in the same degree, is an injurious truth — a. fieust which is recognised by the*Jaw of libeL Among other common lies, we have the tOrnt lie — the deception which one conveys by simply keeping stpl 'and eoncealing the truth. Many obstinate truth-mongers indulge in this dissipation, imagining that if they tptak no lie, they lie not at alL In that fxt country where I once lived, there was a lovely Spirit, a lady whose impulses were always high and pure, and whose character answered to them. One day I was there at dinner, and remarked, in a general way, that we are all liars. She was amazed, and said, * Not aU9* It was before Pinafore's time, so I did not make the response which would naturally follow in our day, but frankly said, ' Yes, att — ^we are all liars ; there are no exceptions.' She looked almost offended, and said, ' Why, do yon include me f * * Certainly,' I said, ' I think you even rank as an expert.' She saidy 'Sh — sh! the children I' So the subject was /changed in deference to the children's i»reeence, and we. went on talking about other things. But as soon as the young people were out of the way, the lady came warmly back to the matter and said, ' I have made it the mle of my life to never tell a lie ; and I have never departed from it in a single instance.' I said, ' I don't mean the least harm ot disrespeot, but really you have been lying like smoke ever since I've been sitting here. It has caused me a good deal A \ BBOAT OF THE ART OF LTTNQ, m ef i»2b, beoanae I un not nsed to it.' She required of ms fttt iDatanoo— jut a angle instanoe. So I eaid — < Weill here is the unfilled duplicate of the blank which the Oaklcnd hosjatal people sent to you by the hand of the nflk-nurae when she oame here to nune your little nephew through his dangerous illness. This blank asks all manner of questions as to the conduct of that sick-nurse : " Did she ever sleep on her watch 1 Did she ever forget to giye the medidne 9 " and so forth and so on. Tou are warned to be Tory carefiil and explicit in your answers, for the weUSeure of the service requires that the nurses be promptly fined or. •therwise punished for derelictions. You told me you were perfectly delighted with that nurse — that she had a thousand perfections and only one &ult : you found you neysr could depend on her wrapping Johnny up half sufficiently while he waited in a chilly chair for her to rearrange the warm bed. You filled up the duplicate of this paper, and sent it back to the hospital by the hand of the nurse. How did you answer this questibn — ''Was the nurse at any time guilty of a negligence which was likely to result in the patient's taking cold t " Ck>me — everything is decided by a bet here in California: ten dollars to ten cents you lied when you answered that question.' She said, 'I didn't; I^ftU hkmk!* 'Just so — ^you have told a iilevU lie; you have left it to be inferred that you had no fault to find in that matter.' She said, 'Oh, was that » liet And how 001^ I mention her one Fdngle fault, and she so good \-^ it would have been cruel.' I said, ' One ought always to lie when one can do good by it ; your impulse was right, but your judgment was crude; this comes of unintelligent DMCAT OF TEE ART OF LYING. of yonn. Tou know Mr. Jones's Willie is lying -very low with scarlet fever; well, your reoommendation was so en- ihiisiastio that that girl is there nnndng him, and the worn-out fiunily hare all been trustingly sound asleep for the last fourteen hours, leaving their darling with ful eonfidenoe in those fiital hands, because you, like young George Washington, have a reputa — However, Jf you are not going to have anything to do, I will come around to-morrow, and well attend the funeral together, for of course youll naturally feel a peculiar interest in Willie's case — as personal a one, in &ct, as the undertaker.' But that 'was all lost. Before I was half-way throu^ she was in a carriage and making thirty miles an hour toward the Jones mansion to save what waa left of WUlie and tell all she knew about the deadly nurse, all of whieh was unnecessary, as Willie waod't sick; I had been lying myself. But that same day, all the same, she sent a line ta the hospital which filled up the neglected blank, and stated the/oefo, too, in the squarest possible manner. Now, you see, this lady's fault was not in lying, but only in lying injudiciously. She should have told the iiruth, then^ and made it up to the nurse with a fraudulent compliment further along in the paper. She could have said, < In one respect this sick-nurse is perfection— when she is on watch ■he never snores.' Almost any little pleasant lie would have taken the sting out of that troublesome but necessary ex- pression of the truth. Lying is universal— we off do it j we all mutt do it Therefore, the wise thing is for us dUigently to train our DECAY OF TMS ART OF LTINO. it wast' •dyM to lie thoughtfully, judicioiialy; to lie with a good object, and not an evil one; to lie for othera' advantagOi and not our own; to lie healinglj, charitably, humanely, not emelly, htirtfully, malic].ously ; to lie gracefully and gradoualy, not awkwardly and dumsily ; to lie firmly, frankly, Bquarely, with head erect, not haltingly, tortuously, with pucdllanimoos mien, as being ashamed of our high calling. Then shall we bo rid of the rank and pestilent truth that is rotting the land; then shall we be great and good and beautifrd, and worthy dwellers in a world where even benign Nature habitually lies, except when she promises execrable weather. Then — But I am but a new and feeble student in thii gracious art; I cannot instruct <Am Club. Joking aside, I think there is much need of wise examinar tion into what sorts of lies are best and wholesomest to be indulged, seeing we mua^ all lie and do all lie, and what sorts it may be best to avoid —and this is a thing which I feel I can confidently put into the hahds of this experienced Olah ^— a ripe body, who may be termed, in this regard^ and without undue flattery, Old Masters. i I n i i THE CANVASSERS TALB. > PooB, sad-eyed stranger I There was that aboat his humble nden, his tired look, his deoayed-gentilitjolothes, that ahnost reached the mustard-seed of charity that stUl remained, remote and lonely, in the empty vastness of my heart, not- withstanding I observed a portfolio under his arm, and said to myself, Behold, Providence hath delivered his servant into the hands of another canvasser. Well, these people always get one interested. Before I wall knew how it came about, this one "^as telling me his history, and I was all attention and sympathy. He told it something like this : — My parents died, alas, when I was a little, sinless child. My uncle Ithuriel took me ti) his heart and recued me as his own. He was my only relative in the wide world ; but ho was good and rich and generous. He reared me in the lap of luxury. I knew no want that money could satisfy. In the fulness of time I was graduated, and went with two of my servants — my chamberlain and my valet — ^to travel in foreign countries. During four years I flitted upon careless wing amid the beauteous gardens of the distant Itrandy if you will permit this form of speech in one whosi ■H THB CANVASSmta TAia. ill ftlmo0fc oained, rt, notr adBud knt into Before mehlB told it child, leas his but he the lap ^nt with let — ^to upon distant whose Umgae was eyer attuned to poesy ; and indeed I so speak with confidence, as one unto his kind, for I peroei/e by your eyes that yon too, sir, are gifted with the divine inflation. In those fiur lands I revelled in the ambrosial food thai finictifies the soul, the mind, the heart. But of all things, that which most appealed to my inborn ftsthetic taste was the prevailing custom there, among the rich, of making collections of elegant and costly rarities, dainty ohjeta d§ . vwittf and in an evil hour I tried to uplift my uncle Ithuriel to a plane of sympathy with this exquisite employment ^ I wrote and told him of one gentleman's va^t coF ion of shells; another's noble collection of meerschaum pipes; another's elevating and refining collection of undecipherable autographs; another's priceless collection of old china; another's enchanting collection of postage-Btomps — and so forth and so on. Soon my letters yielded fruit. My uncle began to look about for something to make a collection gL You may know, perhaps, how fleetly a taste like this dilates. His soon became a raging fever, though I knew it not. Ho began to neglect his great pork business; presently ho wholly retired, and turned an elegant leisure into a rabid search for curious things. His wealth was vast, and he spared it not. First he tried oow-bells. He made a colleo- tion which filled five large sttlona, and comprehended all the different sorts of cow-bells that ever had been contrived, save one. That one — an antique, and the only specimen extant — was possessed by another collector. My uncle offered enormous sums for it, but the gentleman would not selL Doubtless you know what necessarily resulted. A true oollector attaches no value to a collection that is not f ' lis THE CaHVASSER'S TALB. eomplete. His great heart brealn, he leUs his hottnt. hi tnnis his mind to some field that seems unoooaplad. Thus did my uncle. He next tried brickbats. After piling up a vast and intensely interesting colleotlon the former difficulty supervened ; his great heart broke again ; he sold out his soul's idol to the retired brewer who pos- sessed the missing brick. Then he tried flint hatchets and other implements of Primeval Man, but by and by diih ooTered that the fiictory where they were made was supply* ' ing other collectors as well as himself. He tried Azteo inscriptions and stuffed whales — another failure, after in- credible labour and expense. When his collection seemed at last perfect a stuffed ^hale arrived from Greenland and an Aztec inscription from the Oundurango regions of Central America that made all former specimens insigniflcant. My uncle hastened to secure these noble goms. He got the stuffed whale, but another collector got the inscription. A real Cundurango, as possibly you know, is a possession of such supreme value that, when once a collector gets it, he will rather part with his fiunily than with it. So my unde sold out, and saw his darlings go forth, never more to return; and his coal-black hair turned white as snow in a single night. Now he waited, and thought. He knew another dis- appointment might kill him. He was resolved that he would choose things next time that no other man was col^ lecting. He carefuUy mads up his mind, and once more entered the field — this time to make a collection of echoes. < Of what r said I. Bohoes, «rl His first purchase was sn echo In TJis CANVAJSsmes talb. lU u dis- lat he col- more iOQS. to Geri^ that repeated four times; his neit was a iiz-repeater in ^ICaryland; his nazi was a thirteen- repeater in Maine; his next was a nine-repeater in Kansas; his next was a twelve-repeater in Tennessee, which he got cheap, so to speak, because it was out of rejNiir, a portion of the orag which reflected it haying tumbled down. He believed he oould repair it at a cost of \ few thousand dollars, and, by increasing the elevation with • vasonxy, treble the repeating capacity; but the architect who undertook the job^had never built an eoho before, and so he utterly spoiled this one. Before he meddled with it it used to talk back like a mother-in-law, but now it wom only fit for the deaf and dumb asylum. Well, next he bought a lot of cheap little double-barrelled echoes, scattered around over various States and Territories; he got them at twenty per cent, off by taking the lot. Next he bought a perfect Qatling gun of an echo in Oregon, and it cost » fortune, I can tell you. Tou may know, sir, that in the echo market the scale of prices is cumulative, like the carat- scale in diamonds; in fact, the same phraseology is used. A single-carat echo is worth but ten dollars over and above the value of the land it is on ; c two-carat or double-barrelled echo is worth thirty dollars; a fivo-carat is worth nine hundred and fifty ; a ten-carat is worth thirteen thousand. My uncle's Oregon echo, which he called the Great Pitt Echo, was a twenty-two carat gem, and cost two hundred and sixteen thousand dollars — ^they threw the land in, for it was four hundred miles from a settlement. Well, in the meantime my path was a path of roses. I was the accepted suitor of the only and lovely daughter of I I 1 : .1 :-.Vt 114 THE CANVMSSXS 7ALZ Ml English earl, and was beloved to distraction. In thai dear presence I swam in seas of bliss. The family wera content, for it was kno^n that I was sole heir to an vnole held to be worth five millions of dollars. Howeveri none of ■a knew that my uncle bad become a collector, at least in anything more than a small way, for ifisthetio amusement. Now gathered the clouds above my unconscious head. niat divine echo, since known throughout the wwld as tibi Great Koh-i-noor, or Mountain of Repetitions^ was dis-- •overed. It was a sixiy-five-carat gem. You could utter a word and it would talk back at you for fifteen minuses, when the day was otherwise quiet. But behold, another §euBb came to light at the same time : another echo-collector Was in the field. The two rushed to make the peerless puiv ehase. The property consisted of a couple of small hills with a shallow swale between, out yonder among the back settlements of New York State. Both men arrived on the ground at the same time, and neither knew the other was there. The echo was not all owned by one man; a person by the name of Williamson Bolivar Jarvis owned the east hill, and a person by the name of Harbison J. Bledso owned the west hill ; the swale between was the dividing line. So while my undo was buying Jarvis's hill for three million two hundred and eighty-five thousand dollars, the other party was buying Bledso's hill for a shade over three million. . Now, do yon perceive the natural result t Why, the noblest collection of echoes on earth was for ever and ever incomplete, since it possessed but the one half of the king echo of the universe. Neither man was content with this » m>0in«,j^a^nnt>i» ri mu:fm^' Tss CANYAaassa taul Hi liTided ownerahipy yet neithw would sell to the othir. There were jawings, bickeringi^ heart-bnmmge. And at last that other colleotor, with a malignity which only a eolleotor can ever feel toward a man and a brother, pro-^ seeded to oat down his hill 1 ^ Yoa eee^ as long as he conld not have the echo, he was leeoWed that nobody should have it. He would Iremove his hill, and then there would be nothing to reflect my unde's echo. My undo remonstrated with him, but the man said, ' I own one end of this echo ; I choose to kill my end ; you must take care of your own end yourself.' Well, my uncle got an injunction put on him. Th« other man appealed and fought it in a higher court They carried it on up, dear to the Supreme Oourt of the United States. It made no end of trouble there. Two of the judges believed that an echo was personal property, because it was impalpable to sight and touch, and yet was pur- duyseable, saleable, and, consequently, taxable; two othen believed that an echo was real estate, because it was mani* festly attached to the land, and was not removable from place to place; other of the judges contended that an echo was not property at all. It was finally decided that the echo wa;' property ; that the hills were property ; that the two men were separate and independent owners of the two hills, but tenants in common in the edio ; therefore defendant was at foil liberty to cut down his hill, since it belonged solely to him, but must give bonds in three million dollars as indemnity for damages which might result to my unde^s half of the edio. This decision also debarred my unde from using defendamt'i /' j \ \ V I !i - I 116 TSB CANVASaSXS TALR hill to reflect his part of the echo without defendantfi oon- ient ; he must nae only his own hill; if his put of the echo would not go, under these oiroumstances, it was wad, of ooursoi but the court could find no remedy. The court also debarred defendant from using my unde's hill to reflect hi§ end of the echo without consent. Tou see the grand result I Keither man would give consent, and so that astonishing and most noble echo had to cease from its great powers ; and since that day that magnificent property is tied up and VDsaleable. A week before my ''jredding-day, while I was still swim> ming in bliss and the nobility were gathering from far and near to honour our espousals, came news of my uncle's death, and also a copy of his will, making me his sole heir. He wat gone ; aUs^ my dear beneAtctor was no more. The thought surchargefi my heart even at this remote day. I han<!ed the will to the Earl ; I could not read it for the blinding tears. The Earl read it; then he sternly sold, 'Sir, do you a^U this wealth t But doubtless you do in your inflated country, Sir, you are left sole heir to a vast collection of echoes, if a thing can be called a collection that is scattered fisr and wide over the huge length and breadth of the American conti- nent. Sir, this is not all ; you are head and ears in debt ; there is not an echo in the lot but has a mortgage on it; Sir, I am not a hard man, but I must look to my child's in- terest. If you had but one echo which you could honestly eall your own, if you had but one echo which was free from mcumbrance, so that you could retire to it with my child^ and by humble, painstaking industry, cultivate and improve ft, and thus wrest from it a maintMianoe, I would not say . : >'' ;H' <;. TMS CANVASSSXa TALK til pm nay ; bat I cannot many my child to a beggar. Leaya his side, my darling. Qo, air; take your mortgage-ridden echoes, and quit my eight for ever.' My noble CelesUne dung to me in tean^ with loving arms, and swore she would willingly, nay, gladij marry me, though I had not an echo in the world. But it could not be. Wo were torn asundeiv— she to pine and die within tha twelyemonth — I to toil life's -dong journey sad and lone^ praying daily, hourly, for that release which shall join tis to gether again in that dear realm where the wicked ooase froB troubling and the weary are at rest. Now, sir, if you will be so kind as to look at these maps and plans in my port- folio, I am sure I can sell you an echo for less money than any man in the trade. Now this one, which cost my uncle ten dollars thirty years ago, and is one of the sweetest things in Texas, I will let you have for ' *Let me interrupt you,' I said. 'My friend, I have cot had a moment's respite from canvassers this day. I have bought a sewing-machine which I did not want; I have bought a map which is mistaken in all its details; I have bought a dock which will not go ; I have bought a moth poison which the moths prefer to any other beverage; I have bought no end of useless inventions ; and now I have had enough of 1jiis foolishness. I would not have one of your echoes if you were even to give it to me. I would not let it stay on the place. I always hate a man that tries to sell me echoes. You seo this gun % Now take your collection and move on ; let us not have bloodshed.' But he only smiled a sad, sweet smile, and got out some iQnore dl^^pnnis. You know the residt perfectly well, be< i- Sll Tss cANVAaassa talm eauB6 you know that when you hare onoe opened the doot to a canfaaier, the trouble ii done and you hare got te ■offer defeat. I compromiBed with this man at the end of an intolera^ble hour. I bought two double-beirelled echoes in good condi- tion, and he tbrew in another, which he laid waa not sale- able because it only spoke Qerman. He said, * She wat a perfect polyglot once, but sosMhow her palate got down.' offered Tfaund • 'H «0c 'In ;^ powers bookcac I found 'Hi *Sp •In •Oh •I means.' *W( what it 'Oh, you, too. AN ENCOUNTER WITH AN INTERVIEWER. Thi nerrouB, dapper, ' peart ' young man took the oludr 1 fi^ered him, and eaid he was connected with the 'Dail^ Thunderstorm,'' and added : — * Hoping it's no harm, Tye come to interview yoo.' < Come to wiiat t ' * IrUertnew you.' ' Ah ! I see. Yes — ^yes. tlm ! Yes — ^yes.' I was not feeling bright that morning. Indeed, my powers seemed a bit under a cloud. However, I went to the bookcase, and when I had been looking six or seven minutes I found I was obliged to refer to the young man. I said — * How do yon spell it V 'SpeUwhatr •Interview.* ^ •Oh my goodness I what do you want to spell it fort* 'I don't want to spell it; I want to see what i< means.* * Well, this is astonishing, I must say. / can tell you what it means, if you — if you ' ' Oh, all right I That will answer, and much obliged t« you, toOb' J 290 AN ENCOUNTER WITH AN INTEEVXEffTEM. * In, Wf ter, <«r, inter * /Than yon spell it with an If* *Why, certainly I '• ' Oh, that 18 what took me so long.' 'Why, my daar far, what did you propose to ipell it withf < Well, I — I — hardly know. I had the XJnahridged, and I was ciphering around in the hack end, hoping I might tree her among the pictares. But it's a yery old edition.' ' Why, my Mend, they wouldn't have a pidure of it in eren the latest e— - . My dear sir, I hegyour pardon, I mean no harm in the world, hut you do not look as — as — ^hitelligent as I had expected you would. l^To harm — I metm no harm at aU.' * Oh, don't mention it I It has often heen said, and hf people who would not flatter, and who could have no inducement to flatter, that I am quite remarkahle in thai way. Tes — ^yes ; they always speak of it with rapture.' 'I can easily imagine it. But ahout this interview. Ton know it is the custom, now, to interview any man who has hecome notorious.' ' Indeed, I had not heard of it hefore. It must he very Interesting. What do you do it with V * Ah, well — ^well — well — ^this is disheartening. It oughA to he done with a duh in some cases ; hut customarily it consists in the interviewer asking questions and the inter- viewed answering them. It is all the rago now. Will you let me ask yon certain questions calculated to hring out the lalient points of your puhlio and private histoiy t ' ' Oh, with pleasure— with pleasure. I hftve a very bad AN BNCOUNTJSn WITH AN INTmtVIBWJSR, 991 memory, bat I hope you will not ndnd that. That is to lay it is an irregular memory — dBgularly irregular. Sometimes it goes in a gallop^ and then again it will be as much as a fortnight pasamg a given point. This is a great grief to me.' 'Oh, it is no matter, so yon will try to do the best yom 'I win. I will put my whole mind on hi' 'Thanks. Are you ready to begin f 'Beady.' Q. How old are yon t . A, Nineteen, in June. Q, Indeed 1 I would have taken you to be thirty-five or inx. Where were you bom t Ae In Missouri. (}. When did you begin to write t A. In 1^36. Q. Why, how could that be, if you are only ninetoen Bowt A, I don't know. It does seem curious, somehow. Q. It does, indeed. Whom do you consider the most remarkable man yon ever mott A. Aaron Burr. Q, But you never could have met Aaron Burr, if you ■re only nineteen years A, Now, if yon know more about me than I do, what do you ask me for t Q, Well, it was only a suggestion; nothing more. How did you happen to meet Burr t A* Well, I happened to be at his fonend one day, and bs asked ine to makd less noise. and~«-«« y AN BNCOVNTEB WITS AN INTJBMVUBWmL y Q. But, good heayeoB I if you were at his funeral, he ■iiiit have been dead ; and if he was dead, how could he eare whether joa made a noise or not 1 A, I don't know. He was always a particular kind of a man that way. Q, Still, I don't understand it at all. Ton say he qpoke to you, and that he was dead. ' A, I didn't say he was dead. ( 0. But wasn't he dead t A, Well, some said he was, some said he wasn\ Q, What did you thinkt A, Oh, it .ras none of my business 1 It wasn't any of my funeral. ^ Q. Pid you — However, w^ can never get this matter straight. Let me ask about something else. What was the date of your birth 1 A, Monday, October 31, 1693. Q, What! Impossible! That would make you a hundred and eighty years old. How do you account for thatt A, I don't account for it at all. Q, But you said at first you were only nineteen, and now you make yourself out to be one hi^idred and eighty. It is an awful discrepancy. A, Why, have you noticed that? (Shaking hands.) Msny a time it has seemed to me like a discrepancy, but somehow I couldn't make up my mind. How quick you notice a thing 1 Q, Thank you Ibr the compliment, as far as it goes. Hsd yoo, or have you, any brotiiers or sisters 9 \ L, and 5hty. Had AN BNCOUNTER WITH AN INTEBVIMWX^ 9S3 A, Eh I I — ^I — ^I think so—yee— t>nt I don't remembsi^ Q, Well, thftt li the most extraordinary statement I eT«)r iMffdt A» Why, what makes yon think thatt ^ Q» How oonld I think otherwise f Why, look here! Who is this » picture of on the wallf Isnt thatja brothsr sfyoursf A, Oh 1 yes, yes, yes 1 Kow yon remind me of it ; thfti XNW a brother of mine. That's William — £iU we called him Jt 9or old Bill t Q. Whyt Ishedeadthent A, Ah ! well, I suppose so. We never could teU. There was a great mystery about it. Q, That is sad, very sad. He disappeared, thent A» Well, yes, in a sort of general way. We buried him* X Q, Buried him ! Buried him, without knowing whether he was dead or not 1 A, Oh, no t Not that. He was dead enough. Q, Well, I confess that I can't understand this. If you buried him, and you knew he was dea d A, Nol no ! We only thought he was. Q, Oh, I see f He came to life again I J/ I bet he didn't. Q. Well, I never heard anything like this. SoTnehoif was dead. Somebody was buried. Now, where was the mystery 1 A, Ah I that's just it I That's it exactly. You see we were twins—defunct and I — and we got mixed in the bath- tub when we were only two weeks old, and one of us wat \if AN BNCOVNTER WITH AN INTBRVIBfVMM. drowned. But we didn't know which. Soxoe think it wm Bill. Some think it was me. Q, Well, that t^ remarkable. What do you think t A. Qoodness knows 1 I would give whole worlds to know. This solomui this awful mysteiy has cast a gloom oyer my whole life. But I will tell you a secret now, which I never have revealed to any creature before. One of us had a peculiar mark — a laj^ge mole on the book of his left hand ; that was ms, Thoat cmM wets the oiw that wot drowned I Q. Very well then, I don't see that there is any mysteij about it, after alL A, You don't) Well, / dOc Anyway, I don't see how they oonld eVer have been such a blundering lot as to go and bury the wrocg child. But, 'sh ! — don't mention it where the family can hear of it. Heaven knows they hava heart-breaking troubles enough without adding this. Q, Well, I believe I have got material enough for the present, and. I am very much oblige^l to you for the pains you liave taken. But I was a good deal interested in that account of Aaron Burros funeraL Would you mind telUng me what particular droumstance it was that made you thiid[ Burr was such a remarkable man t j1. Oh| ft was a mere taiflel Not one man in Wj would have noticed it at all. When the sermon was over, and the proce(<eion all ready to start for the cemetery, and the body aU arranged nice in the hearse, he ndd he wanted to take a last look at the scenery, and so he got up cmd rode wUh the driver, Tbm the young man reverently withdrew. He was fery pleasant oompany, and I was sony to see him go* V PARIS NOTES} 1 Kow to go Ion it f hava Dr tlio pains that telling thiidK ^ fifty over, }f and ranted rodM [e wM Tdb Parimaii tfaTelfl but litUe, he knowi no Umgnagt !«l his own, readf no literature but hii omii and conieqnentlj he IB pretty narrow and pretty aelf-iufficieDt. However, let 08 not be too sweeping ; there are T^renchmen who know languages not their own: these are the waiterct Among the rest, they know English; that is, they know it on the European pUui— which is to say, they ean qptek it, but oan*t understand it. They easily make themselTes understood, but it is next to impossible to word an English sentenoe in suoh a way as to enable them to comprehend it» They think they comprehend it ; they pretend they do; but they don't Here is a oonyersation which I had with one of these beings; I wrote it down at the time, in order tohayeit exactly correct. /• These are line oranges. Where are they grown ? H: Morel Yes, I will bring them. /. No, do not bring any more; I only want to know where they are from — ^where they are raised. J7«. Test (inth imperturbable mien, and rising in- ■ Orowdad out of 4 Tumjf Abroad to make room for more Tftal ifeatiitiof.— M. 7. 226 PAMia N0TS8. /. Yes. Omi you tell me what ooantry thej ave from! ' He, Test (blandly, with rising inflection.) /. (diaheartened.) Ihegr are very nice. H; Ck>od nightii (Bows, and retires, quite latifified with himself.) ^ That young man could have become a good English scholar by taking the right sort of pains, but he was French, and wouldn't do that How diffiarent is the case with our peoplej they utilise every means that ofos. There are some alleged French Protestants in Paris, and they built a nice little church on one of the great avenues that lead away ftom the Arch of Triumph, and proposed to listen to the ocnrsct thii^, ^ jeached in the correct way, there, in thdr precious French tongue, and be happy. But their little game does not succeed. Our people are always there ahead of them, Sundays, and take up all the room. When the minister gets up to preach, he finds has house full of devout foreigners, each ready and waiting, with his little book in \im hand— a morocco-bound Te<itament, apparently. But only apparently ; it is Mr. Bellows's admiraUe and exhaustive little French-English dictionary, which in look and binding and sixe is just like a Testament—and tiiose people are there to study French. The building has been nicknamed ' The Ohurdi of the Gratis SVenoh Lesson.' These students probably acquire more language thta general informalion, for I am told that a French sermon is like a French speech — ^it never names an historicBi events but only the date of it ; if you are not up in datee^ you get left. A French epeech is something like this :— ' Comrades, dtiiiens, brothers, noUe parte of the only PAias NOTsa. m omi iDgliflh Venchi ithour ire are bnilta daway to the n their ir little « ahead len the devout book in Bat and in look [d those been tb^a mis events 'onget onlj •!iblime and perfect nation, let oe not forget that the Slat Jan^iaiy oast off our ofaains; that the 10th Angost relieved OS of the shameM presence of foreign spies; that the 5th September was its own justification before Heaven and humanity; that the 18th Brumaire contained the seeds of its own punishment ; that the 14th Julj was the mighty voice of liberty proclaiming the resurrection, the new day, and inviting the oppressed peoples of the earth to look upon the divine face of France and live ; and let us here record our everlasting curse against the man of the 2nd December, and declare in thunder tones, the native tones of France, that but for him there had been no 17th March in history, no 12th October, no 19th January, no 22nd April, no 16th November, no. 30th September, no 2nd July, no 14th Febmary, no 29th June, no 16th August, no Slst May — that but for him, France, the pure, the grand, the peerless, had had a serene an^ vacant almanac to-day 1' I have heard of one French sermon which dosed in this odd yet eloquent way : — * My hearers, we have sad cause to remember the man of the 18th January. The results of the vast crime of tho 13th January have been in just proportion to the magni- tude c'*th0 act itself. But for it there had been no 30th Kovember— sorrowful spectacle 1 The grisly deed of the 16th June had not been done but for it, nor had the man of the 16th June known existence; to it alone the 3rd September was d^je. also the fatal 12th October. S!iall we, then, be gratefVil for the 13th January, with its freight of death for )^«i and me and all that breathet Tes, my friendis^ for it PAMIS SOTSa. gave m also that which had never come bat for it, and it aloneT-the blessed 25th December.' It may be well enough to explain, though in the case of many of my readers this will hardly be necessary. The man of the 13th Januaiy is Adam ; the crime of that date was the eating of the apple ; the sorrowful spectacle of the SOth November was the expulsion from Eden; the grisly deed of the 16th June was the murder of Abel ; the act of the 3rd September was the beginning of the journey to the land of Nod; the 12th day of October, the last mountain- tops disappeared under the flood. When you go to church in France, you want to take your almanac with yo»-- annotated. ^^ LEGEND OF SAGENFELD, IN GERMANY.^ BIoBi than % thousand years ago this small district was a kingdom — a litUa bit of a kingdom, a sort of dainty little toy kingdom, as one might say. It was far removed team the jealousies, strifias, and turmoils of that old warlike day, and so its life was a simple life, its people a gentle and guileless race ; it lay always !n a deep dream of peace, a soft Sabbath tranquillity; there was no malice, there was no envy, there was no ambition, consequently there were no heart-burnings, there was no nnhappiness in the land. In the course of time the old king died and his Kttie son Hubert came to the throne. The people's love for him grew daily ; he was so good and so pure and so noble, that by and- by this love became a passion, almost a worship. Now at his birth the socthsayers had diligently studied the stars and found somef/hing written in that shining book to this effect : — In HvheH*8foiwrU»nllh ytw a pregnant event toiU happen ; ihe omimai whose tifngvng ehaU tound sweetest m fftiberfs ectr * Lett oiA of A Tramp Abroad because its aaitientioity turned doubtful, and could not at that time be proved.— M. T. LEGEND OF 8AQSNFELD. ahaU tave Submrfi l^fe. So long tu the Ung and HKe naiion thaU honotur th%$ mUmoTi ract/or thi$ good deed, the aneieni dynoiiy §hdB not /ail of an heir, nor the naiion know toar or peetiknce or poverty. But beware an erring ohoice I All through the Ung's thirteenth year bat one thing waa talked of by the ■oothfayen, the statennen, the little parlia- ment, and the general people. That one thing was this : How is the last sentence of the prophecy to be understood 1 What goes before seems to mean that the sieving animal will choose iteelf, at the proper time; bat the dosing sentence seems to mean that the hvng most choose beforehand, and say what singer among the animals pleases him beat, and that if he choose wisely the chosen animal wfU save his life, his dynasty, his people, bat that if he bhoold make ' an erring ohoice ' — ^beware t By the end of the year there were as many opinions about this matter as there had been in th^ beginning ; but a m^ority of the wise and the simple were agreed that the ^est plan would be fbr the little king to make dioioe before- hand, and the earlier the better. So an edict was sent forth oommanding all persons who owned singing creatures to bring them to the great hall of the palace in the morning o! the first day of the new year. This command was obeyed. When eveiything was in readiness for the trial, the king made his solemn entry with the great officers of the crown, aU clothed in their robes of state. The king mounted his golden throne and prepared to give judgment. But he presently said — ' These creatures all sing at once ; the noise is unendur LSQEND OF SAOSNFSLD, ftUe; no one oaji choose in guoh a turmoil. Ikk* them all away, and bring badk one at a time.' This waa done. One aweet warbler aftor another eharmed the young king's ear and was remoyed to make way for another candidate. The precious minutes slipped by ; among so many bewitching songsters he found it hard to choose, and all the harder because the promised penalty for an error was so terrible that it unsettled his Judgment and made him afraid to trust his own ears. He grew nervous and his &ce showed distress. IjuL^ ministers saw this, for they never took their eyes from him a moment. Now they b^gan to say in their hearts— * He has lost courage— the cool head is gon»— he will err — ^he and his dynasty and his people are doomed I ' At the end of an hour the king sat silent awhile, and then said — * Bring back the linnet' The linnet trilled forth her jubilant musia In the midst of it the king was about to uplift his sceptre iniogn of choice, but checked himself and said—- 'But let us be sure. Bring back the thrush ; let them sing together/ The thrush wbb brought, and the two birds poured out their marvels ol song together. The king wavered, then his inclination began to settle sm sct^^ngthen— one could see it in his countenance. Jiope budded in the hearts of the old ministers, thdr pulses began to beat quicker, the sceptre began to rise slowly, when— There was a hideous interruptien I It was a sound like this— just at the door »— LSGSKD OF SAQBNFSLD. < Waw ...... Ai/— w»w iU/— waw-litl wAw-hs ! — ^waw-he I ' Breiybodj wa« iorely starUed-v-and enraged at himself for showing it. The next instant the dearest^ sweetest, prettiest UtUe peasant maid of nine years oame tripping in, her brown eyes glowing with childish eagerness; but whan she saw ^-hat augtvit company and those angry frees she stopped and hung her head and pat her poor coarse apron to her eyes. No- body gave her welcome, none pitied her. Presently phe looked up timidly through her tears, and said — ' My lord the king, I pray you pardon me, Ibr I meant .no wrong. I have no &ther and no mother, but I have a goat and a donkey, and they are all in all to me. My goat gives me the sweetest milk, and when my dear good donkey brays it seems to me there is no music like to it. So when my lord the king's jester said the sweetest sjinger among all the animals should save the crown and nation, and moved me to bring him here—"-' AU the court burst into a rude laugh, and the child fled away crying, without trying to finish her speech. The chief minister gave a private order that she and her disastrous donkey be flogged beyond the precincts of the palace and commanded to come within them no more. Then the trial of the birds was resumed. The two birds sang their best, but the sceptre lay motionless in the king's hand. Hope died slowly out in the breasts of aU. An hour went by; two hours; still no decision. The day waned to its dose, and the waiting multitudes outside the palace grew erased with anxiety and apprehension. The twilight came » IBQBND OF BAQBNFBLD. hat on, the Bhadows fell deeper and deeper. The king and hia eonrt could no longer lee each other's ikoee. No one spoke —none called for lights. The great trial had heen made; it had (ailed ; each and all wished to hide their fiioes from the light and coTer up their deep trouble in their own hearts. Finally — ^harkt A rich, ftill strain of the divinest melody streamed forth from a remote part of the hall — the nightin- gale's Toioe I ' Up 1 ' shouted the king, Met all the hells make pro- clamation to the people, for the choice is made and we have not erred. King, dynasty, and nation are saved. From hencefr -th let the nightingale be honoured throughout the land for ever. And publish it among all the people that whosoever shall insult a nightingale, or ii\jure it, shall suffer death. The king hath spoken.' All that little world was drunk with joy. The castle and the city biased with bonfires all night long, the people danced and drank and sang, and the triumphant damour of the bells never ceased. From that day the nightingale was a sacred bird. Its song was heard in every house ; the poets wrote its praises ; the painters painted it ; its sculptured image adorned every arch and turret and fountain and public building. It was even taken into the king's councils ; and no grave matter of state was deeided until the soothsayers had laid the thing before the state nightir-'^e and translated to the ministry what it was that the bird had sung about it. tSQEND OF 8AQBNFELD. TL Thb jouog king wsus very fond of the chase. When th« summer ..aa oome he rode forth with hawk and hound, one day, in a brilliant company of his nobles. He got separated from them, by-and-by, in a great forest, and toolc what he imagined a near cut, to find them again ; but it was a mis- take. He rode on and on, hopefully at first, but with sink- ing ootii^^ finally. Twili£;ht came on, and still he was plunging through a lonely and unknown land. Then came a catastrophe. In the dim light he forced his horse through a tangled thicket oyerhanging a steep and rocky declivity. Whon horse and rider reached the bottom, the former had a broken nef>> and the latter a broken leg. The poor little king i2kj tLe^^ suffering agonies of pain, and each hour seemed a long month to him. He kept his ear strained to hear any sound that might promise hope of rescue <; but he heard no voice, no sound of horn or bay of hound. So at last he gave up all hope, and said, 'Let death oome, for o(»ne Itmust.' Just then the deep, sweet song of a nightingale swept across the still wastes of the night. ' Saved t ' the king said. ' Saved ! It is the sacred bird, and the prophecy is come true. The gods themselves pro- tected me from error in the choice.' He could hardly oontain his Joy; he could not 'word his gratitude. Every few momently now, he thought he caught the sound of approaching succour. But each time it was a disappointment : no succour came. The dull houn r \i tSOJSND OF 8A0SNFBLD. ibifted on. Still no help came— but stOl the SBered bird iang (HL He began to have miagiyingB about his ohoioe, but he stifled them. Toward dawn the bird ceased. The morning oame, and with it thirst and hunger ; botnosoooomr. The day waxed and waned. At last the king cursed the nightingale. Immediately the song of the thrush came from out the wood. The king said in his heart, * This was the true bird —my choice was false-HSUooonr will come now.' But it did not come. Then he lay many hours insensible. When he came to himself, a linnet was singing, fie listened — ^with apathy. His £uth was gone. 'These birds,' he ^|gp jaid, ' can bring no help ; I and my house and my people are '^ doomed.' He turned him about to die; for he was grown yery feeble from hunger and thirst and suffering, and felt that his end was near.- In truth, he wanted to die, and be released from pain. For long hours he lay without thought or feeling or motion. Then his senses returned. The dawn of the third morning was breaking. Ah, the world seemed Tery bei^utiful to those worn eyes. Suddenly a great long- ing to live roce up in the lad's heart, and from his soul welled a deep and feivent prayer that Heaven would have mercy upon him and let him see his home and his friends once • more. In that instant a soft, a fiunt, a fiur-off sound, but oh, how inexpressibly sweet to his waiting ear, came float- ing out of the distance — * Waw he! — wa w As / — ^waw-he I — waw-he I — waw-he I ' * Thai, oh, ikta song is sweeter, a thousand times sweeter, than the vcioe of nightingale, thmth, or linnet, for it brings LSQEND OF SAQBNFZfJ}. not mere hope^ bat otrtotnty of enooaar; and now indeed am I eayedl Thie laered singer has chosen itself, as the orade intended; the prophecy (s ftilfilledi and my life, my house, and my people are redeemed. The ass shall be sacred from thisdayl' ' The divine mnsic grew nearer and nearer, stronger and stronger — and ever sweeter and sweeter to the perishing sufferer's ear. Down the dedivity the docile little donkey wandered, cropping herbage and singing as he went ; and when at last he saw the dead horse and the wounded king, he came and snuffed at them with simple and marrelling curiosity. The king petted him, and he knelt down as had been his wont when his little mistress dceii«d to mount. With great labour and pain the lad drew himself upon th« creature's back, and held himself there by aid of the generous ears. The ass went singing forth from the place and carried the king to the little peasant maid's hut. She gave him her pallet for a bed, refreshed him with goat's milk, and then flew to tell the great news to the first scouting party of searchers she might meet. The king got well. His first act was to proclaim the sacredness and inviolability of the ass; his second was to add this particular ass to his cabinet and make him chief minister of the crown ; his third was to have all the statues and effigies of nightingales throughout his kingdom de- stroyed, and replaced by statues and effigies of the sacred donkey;' and his fourth was to announce that when the little peasant maid should reach her fifteenth year he would make her his queen--«nd he kept his word. tSQBNJ) OF 8AQENFBLD. Booh 18 the legend. This eoplaiiiB why the mouldeiiiig iinaiie of .the aas adorns all these old ommhling walls and arches \ and it explains why, during many oentnries, an ass was always the chief minister in that royal cabinet, just as is still the case in most cabinets to this day ; and it also explains why, in that little kingdom, during many centuries^ all great poems, all great speeches, all great books, all public solemnities, and all royal proclamations, always bc^gan with these stirring wQrd»— 'Waw A0/ — waw •••••• A«/— -waw-hel — waw-het — waw-he!' SPEECH ON THE BASTES, At thb Bavqubt, in Ohioaqo, oiy^m bt tbb Abmt or tbb Tbbnbssbb to thus vnsT CtoiiifAKDBB, Oenbbal U. 8w Grant, Koybmbbb 1879. [The fifteenth regnlar toa«t was * The Babiei.— As they jomf oit us in our sonrows, let us not foiget them in our festiTitdes.*] I uks that. We have not all had .thd good fortune to be ladies. We have not all been generals, or poets, or states- men; but when the toast works down to the babies^ we stand on common ground. It is a shame that for a thoiisand years the world's banquets haya utterly ignored the baby, as if he didn^ \ amount to anything. If yov will stop and think a minute— II yon will go back fifty or one hundred years to your early married life and recontemplate your ^rst baby-— you wiU remember that he amounted to a good deal, and even something over. You soldiers all know that when that little fellow artived at &mily headquarters you had to hand in your resignation. He took entire command. Ton became his lackey, his mere body-servant, and yon had to stand around too. He was not a commander who made allowano^i for time, distance, weather, or anything else. You had to execute his order whether it was possible or not. And there was only one form of marching in his manual of tactics, and that was the double-quick. He treated you with every sorl SPEECH ON THE BABIES ^imnolnniwnd diareBpectyUid the brayest of yoa didn't dare lo ny a word« Yov oonld bjob the death-storm at Doneleon and YidLBbnrg, and give back blow for blow ; but when he blawed your whiskers, and pulled your hair, and twisted your nose, yon had to take it. When the thunden of war were sounding in your ears you set your fiujes toward the batteries, and advanced with steady tread; but when ha tnn>ed on the i :7ion of his war-whoop you advanced in the other direction, and mighty glad of the chance too. When he called for soothing-syrup, did you venture to throw out any side remarks about certain services being unbecoming an officer and a gentleman) Ni. You got up and got il When he ordered his pap bottle and it was not warm, did yon talk back t Not you. Xou went to work and toairmed it. YovL even descended so far in your menial office as to take a suck at that warm, insipid siiuff yourself, to see if it was right — ^three parts water to one of milk, a touch of sugar to modify the colic, and a drop of peppermint to kill those immortal hiccoughs. I can taste that stuff, yet. And how mimy things you learned as you went along I Sentimental young folks stUl take stock in that beautiful old sayiqg that when the baby smiles in his sleep, it is because the angels are whispering to him. Yery pretty, but too thin— simply wind on the stomach, my Mends. If the baby proposed lo take a walk at his usual hour, two o'clock in the morning, didn't you rise up promptly and remark, with a mental addi- tion which would not improve a Sunday-school book much, that that was the very thing you were about to propose yourself t Oh I you were under good discipline, and as yo« went fluttering up and down the room in your undresi S40 8PJBJBCS ON TBB BABIB8. uniform, yiou not only prattled undignified baby-talk, bat i toned up your martial yoioob and tried to ting 1 — ' Rock-» by baby in the tree-top/ for instance. What a fpeotade for an Army of the Tennessee 1 And what an affliction for the neighbours, too ; Lir it is not erexybody within a mile around that likes military music at three in the morning. And when yon had been keeping this sort cf thing up two or three houTE', and your little yelyet-head intimated that nothing suited him like exercise and noise, what did you dot [' (To •11 /n Tou simply went on until you dropped in the ^«uit ditch. The idea that a hc^ doesn't amowU to anything 1 Why, one baby is just a house and a front yard fuU by itself. Om baby can f umiah more business than you and your whole Interior Department can attend to. HJe is enterprising, irrepressible, brimAil of lawless activities. Do what you please, you can't make him stay on the reservation. Suffi- cient unto the day is one baby. As lon(; as you are in your right mind don't you ever pray for twins. Twins amount to a permanent riot. And there ain't any real difference between triplets and an insurrection. Yes, it was high time for a toast-master to recognise the importance of the babies. Think what is in store for the present crop ! Fifty years from now we shall all be dead, I trust, and then this flag, if it still survive (and let us hope it may), will be floating over a Eepublic numbering 200,000,000 souls, according to the settled laws of our in- . crease. Our present schooner of State will have grown into a political leviathan — a Great Eastern. The cradled babies of to-day will be on deck. Let them be well trained, for we are going to leave a big contract on their hands. Among MPSSCB ON TBB BABUSUl 111 tlie tliTee or four, million eradles nowxookisg in the land art ■ome which this nation would pro s oi ' ve for ages as saored things, if we could know which ones they are. In one of these cradles the unoonsoions Farragnt of the fntnve is at this moment teething — ^think of it 1 — and patting in a world of dead earnest, nnardculated, but perfectly justifiable pro- fanity over it, too. In another the fatnre renowned astro- nomer is blinking at the shining Milky Way with bat a languid interest — ^poor little chapl — ^and wondering what iias become of that other one they call the wet-nurse. In another the future great historian is lying^-and doubtless will continue to lie until his earthly missien is ended. In another the future President is bus/ing himself with no pn^ founder problem of state than what the mischief has liecome of his hur so early ; and in a mighty amy of other cradles there are now some 60,000 future office-seekers, getting ready to furnish him occasion to grapple with that same old problem a second time. And in still one more cradle^ somewhere under the flag, the future illustrious commander-in-chief of the American armies is so little burdened with his approach- ing grandeurs and responsibilities as to be giving his whole strategic mind at thismomentito trying to find out some wa;y to get his big toe into his mouth — an achierement which, meaning no disrespect, the illustrious guest ot this erening turned hia entire attention to some fifty-six years ago ; and if the child is but a prophecy of the man, there are mighty few who will doubt that he suceeecML SPEECH ON THE WEATHER, ▲t thk Naw Bholajid Sooibtt'b SBvumr-vnun* ANHUAL DlNNEB, NBW YOBK OITT. The next toait wai : • The Oldest Inhabitant— The Weather ol New England.' • Who oan lose it and f oiget it f Who can haye it and regret it t <B« interpoier *twizt na Twain.' Merokanut tf VenHet» To thif Samnel L. 01emena~(Hark Twain) replied as follows :— I BETEBENTLT belleve that the Maker who made ns all maJces everythixig in New England bat the weather. I don't know who makes that^ but I think it mtust be raw apprentices in the weather clerk's feotory whp experiment and learn how, in New England, for board and dothes, and then are promoted to make weather for countries that require a goo^ article, and will i»ke their custom elsewhere if they don't get it. There is a sumptuous ^Ariety about the New England weather that compels the stranger's admiratioin — and regret. The weather is always doing something there; always attending strictly to business; always getting up new designs and trying them on the peoplt to see how they will ^, But it gets through more busin«BS in spring than in any other season. In the spring I hftve counted one hundred and thirfy-sls difiSarent kinds of ?, btber of ^eniet. OS all her. I be raw Briment legyaod » that lewhere r about ranger's doing udness; on the ;h more spring hands of MPJSSCS ON TMB WSATJZSJt MS weailier inside of fonr-and-twentj hoars, It was I that made the &me and fortune of that mau that had that manreUoos ooUeotipn of weather on nxfaiUtion at the Centennial, that so astounded the foreigners. He was going to trayel all over the world and get bpeoimens from all the olimes. I said, 'Don't you do it; you oome to New England on a &YOurable spring day.' I told him what we could do in the way of style, variety, and quantity. Well, he oame and he made his eoUeotion in four days. As to rariety, why, he confessed that he got hundreds of kinds of weather that he had never heard of before. And as to quantity-- ^ell, after he had picked out and discarded all that was blemished in any way, he not only had weather enough, but weather to spare weather to hire out; weather to sell; to deposit; weather to invest ; weather to give to the poor. The people of New England are by natuse patient and forbearing, but there are some ^lings which th^ will not stand. Evevy year they kill a lot of poets for writing about ' Beautiful Spring.' These are generally casual visitors, who bring their notions of spring from somewhere else^ and cannot, of oounie, know how the natives feel about spring. And so the first thing they know the opportunity to inquire how they feel has permanently gone by. Old Probabilities has a mighlj reputation for acourato prophecy, and thoroughly well deserves it. You take up the paper and observe how crisply and confidently he checks off what to-day's weather is going to be on the Pacific, down South, in the Middle States, in the Wisconsin region. See him sail along in the jqy and pride df his power till he gets to New England, and then see his tail drof, Ee doesn't know what the weather is %u 6PEECS Oy TRS WSATHBA going to be in New England. Well, he mulli over it, and by-and-by he gets out something abont like tibia : PM>babIe north-east to sonth-west winds, vaiying to the soathward and westward and eostwrird, and points between, high and bw ■ barometer swapping aronnd from place £o place; probable areas of rain, snow, hail, and drought, succeeded or preceded by earthquakes, with ^Jiunder and lightning. Then he jots down this poetc^ript from his wandering mind, to cover aixddents. 'But it is possible that the programme may be wholly changed in the meantime.' Yes, one of the brightest gems in the New England weather is the danling uncertainty of it. There is only one thing certain about it : you are certain there is going to be plenty of it — a perfect grand review ; but you never can tell which end of the ^' cession is going to move first. Tou ^ up for the drought ; you leave your umbrella in the house and sally out, and two to one you get drowned. Tou make up your mind U^at the earthquake is due ; you stand from under, and take hold of something to steady yourself, and the first thing you know you get struck by lightning. These are great disappoint- ments; but they can't be helped. The lightning there is peculiar; it is so convincing, that when it strikes a thing it doesn't leave enough of that thing behind for you to tell whether Well, you*d think it was something valuable^ and a Congressman had been there. And the thunder. When the thunder begins to merely tune up and scrape and saw, and key up the instruments for the performance^ strangers say, ' Why, what awful thunder you have here 1' But when the bAton 18 raised and the real concert begins yaull find that stranger down in the cellar with his head in 8PEBCB ON TSB WSATSSB. S45 It, and •obable ^anil id low robable receded len he bd, to rramme )of the laEding x)at it : perfect ^e^- ronglit ; md two i^at the hold of 1 know ippoint- bhere i^ thing it to tell alnable, bunder, ipe and rmance, beret' begins head in the Mh-bazioi. Kow as to the tiam of the weather in New Dogland — ^lengthways, I mean. It is utterly disproportioned to the siae of that little country. Half the time, when it Is packed as full as it can stick, you will see that New England weather sticking out beyond the edges and projecting around hundreds and hundrjds of miles over die neighbour- ing States. She cant hold a tenth part of her weather. Tou can see cracks all about where she has strained herself trying to do it. I could speak volumes about the inhuman perversity of the New England weather, but I will give but a single specimen. I like to hea^* rain on a tin ro<^ So I covered part of my roof with tin, with an eye to that luxury. Well, sir, do you think it ever ndhs on that tin t No, sir : skips it every time. Mind, in this speech I have been trying mefely to do honour to the New England weather — ^no lan- guage could do it justice. But, after all, there is at least one or two things about that weather (or, if you please, effects produced by it) which we residents would not like to part with. If we hadn't our bewitching autumn foliage, we should still have to credit the weather with one feature which compensates far all its bullying vaf^es — ^the ice- storm: when a leafless txee is clothed with ice firom the bottom to the top — ^ice that is as brigtit and dear as crystal; when every bough and twig is strung with ice-beads, frozen. dew-drops, and the whole tree sparkles cold and white, like the Shah of Peraia*s diamond plume. Then the wind waves the branches and the sun comes out and tmos all those myriads of b^ads and drops to prisms that glow and bum and flash with all manner of coloured fires, which change and change again with inconceivable rapidity from blue tf- 8PSECS ON TUM WBATBJSM. # red, from red to green, end green to gold— the tree beoomet ft qnmying foontein, • rerj esplosion of dasling jewels ; and it ttands there the acme, the diaiAz, the enpremeit poiri- bilitj in art or nature^ of bewildering, intoxicating, intolo imUe magnificence. One cannot make the worda too stroni^ *. -i*-' beoomit t poMi- intol« CONCERNING THE AMERICAN LANGUAGE} ■-.it^ Thxrs was an Englishman In our oompartment, and lis eomplimented me on—- on whati But you would never guess. He complimented me on my English. He said Americans in general did not speak the English language as correctly as I did. I said I was obliged to him for his compliment^ since I knew he meant it for one, but that I was not fairly entitled to it, for I didn't speak English at til— I only spoke American. He laughed, and said it was a distinction without a difference. I said no, the difference was not prodigious, but still it was considerable. We fell into a friendly dispute orer the matter. I put my case as well as I could, and said, ' The languages were identical several generations ago, but our changed conditions and the spread of our people far to the south and £ar to the west have made many alterations in our pronunciation, and huve introduced new words among «B and changed the meanings of many old ones. English people talk through their noses ; we do not. We say knoWf > Being part of a chapter which was crowded eat of A Trtm§ JJbrmi.—VL I. U8 THE AMERICAN LANGUAOK ^ English people say nOo; we say eow, the Briton says Motcr we ' 'Oh, come I that is pure Yankee j everybody knows that/ ' TeS| it is pure Yankee ; that is true. One cannot hear it in America outside of the little ovner called New England, which is Yankee land. The fenglish themselTes planted it there two hundred and fifty years ago, and there it 1 emains ; it haa never spread. But England talks through her noae yet; the Londoner and the haokwoodd New- Englander pronounce '' know ** and ** oow " alike, and then the Britoii unconsciously satirises himself by making fun of the Yankee's pronunciation.' We ai^ed this point at some length ; nobody won ; but no matter, the fact remains — Englishmen say ndo aad kdow for ' know ' and ' cow/ and that is "^hat the rustic inhabitant of a very small section of America does. * You conferred your a upon New England too, and there it remains ; it has not travelled out of the narrow limits of those six little states in all these two hundred and fifty years. All England uses it, New England's small population — say four millions — use it, but we have forty-five millions who do not use it^ You say ** glahs of wawtah," so does New Eng- land ; at least, New England says glaha, America at large flattens the a, and says ** glass of water.'' These sounds are pleasanter than yours ; you may think they are not right- well, in English they are not right, but in " American " they are. You say Jlahsk, and hahaketf and jachdhst ; we say ** flask," ''basket," "jackass" — sounding the a as it is in *'tallow," "fallow," aad so on. Up to as kte as 18i7 THE AMEmCAN LANOUAOB. Mr, Webster's Dictionary had the impndenoe to still pro* noiincG " basket " bahiket, when he knew that outside of his little New England all America shortened the a and paid no attention to his English broadening of ii HowoYer, it called itself an English Dictionary, so it was proper enough that it should stick to English forms, perhaps. It still calls itself an English Dictionary to-day, but it has quietly ceased to pronounce ** basket " as if it were spelt bc^kei. In the American Iftngnage the h is renpected ; the h is liot dropped or added improperly.' • * The same is the case in England — ^I mean among the <9ducated classes, of course.' ' Yes, that is true ; but a nation's language is a vexy large matter. It is not simply a manner of speech obtaining among the educated handful ; the manner obtaining among the vast uneducated multitude must be considered also. Your uneducated masses speak English, you will not deny that ; our uneducated masses speak American — ^it won't be &ir for yoiT to deny that^ for you can see yourself that when your stable-boy says, ''It isn't the 'unting that 'urts the 'orse, but the 'ammer, 'ammer, 'ammer on the 'ard 'ighway," and our st(^ble-boy makes the same remark without sufib* eating a single A, these two people are manifestly talking two different languages. But if the sighs are to be trusted, even your educated classes used to drop the A. They say humble now, and h&roie, and historic, &c,f but I Judge that they used to drop those h*B because your writers still keep up the fisushion of putting an before those words, instead ol 0. This is what Mr. Darwin might call a " rudimentary " ngn that that an was justifiable once, and useful — ^when 260 TMS AMEJRICAN LANOUAOB. jonr educated ekuwes U9ed to say *wnMe, and *mmo^ and ^itloncaiL Ctorraot^ writers of the Amarioan language do not put an before those words.' The English gentleman had something to say upon this matter, but nerer mind what he said — ^I'm not arguing his case. I'haTe him at a disadvantage now. I proceeded : — ' In Bn^^btnd you encourage an oi«tor by fl»«lA^iinmg ** H'yaah 1 h'yaah I " We pronounce it he«r in some sections^ **l^y€T** in others, and so on; but our whites do not say» ^h'yaahy'' pronouncing the a's like the a in oA. I have heard English ladies say ** don't you " — ^making two separate and distinct words of it; your Mr. Bumand has satirised it. But we always say " dontchu." This is much better. Your ladies say, ** Oh, it's oful nice ! " Ours say, ** Oh, it's otoful nice I " We say, " Fwt hundred," you say **For "—as in the word or. Tour clergymen speak of ** the Lawd," ours of '' the Lord " ; yours speak of ** the gawds of the heathen^" ours of ''the gods of the heathen." When yon are ex- hausted yon say you are <' knocked up." We don't. When you say you will do a thing ''directly," you mean "im- mediately " ; in the American language — ^generally speaking — ^the word signifies " after a litti&" When you say " dever " yon mean "capable"; with us the word used to mean " accommodating," but I don't know what it means |iow. Your word "stout" means "fleshy"; our word "stout" usually means "strong." Your words " gentleman " and " lady" haye a very restricted meaning; with us they indude the barmaid, butcher, burglar, harlot, and horse-thief. You say, "I haven't g<d any stoddngs on," "I haven't got sjolJ memory," " I havent goi any money in my purse "; w» f yie^ and \ donol xxntbii aing his ilalmiwg ieetioD% lot mjt 1 haTB separate jnaedit . Your 'b awlul d" oxam aatheny" axe es- When dever" io mean 18 |10W. "stout" 01 "and indude f. Yon ^o^any le"; w» TBS AMERICAN LANQUAOM. sn OflgaOy sajy ^ I haven't any stoddngg on," ** I haven't any memory/' " I haven't any money in my purse." Yon say ''out of window"; we always put in a Ms. If one asks ''How old is that mant" the Briton answers, "He will be about forty"; in the American language we should say, " He w about forty." However, I wont tire you, sb; bat if I wanted to, I could pile up differences here until I not only convinced you that Finglish and American are separate languages, but that when I speak my native tongue in its utmost purity an Englifihman can't understand me at aU.' ' I don't wish to flatter you, but it is about all I can do to understand you now* That was a very pretty compliment^ and it put us on the pleasantest terms directly — ^I use the word in the English [Zofsr — 1882. .^Ssthetes in many of our schools are now beginning to teach the pupils to broaden the a, and to say * don't joq,' in the elegant foreign way.] ROGERS. Jtam man Rogers happened npon me and introdnoed himflelf at the town of , in the South of England, whei« I stayed awhile. His step-fitther had married a distant rektire of mine who was afterwards hanged, and so he seemed to think a blood relationship existed between us. He came in every day and sat down and talked. Of all the bland, serene human curiosities I ever, saw, I think he was the chiefest. He desired to look at my new chimney-pot hat. I was very willing, for I thought he would notice the i^me «9f the great Oxford Street hatter in it, and respect me accordingly. But be turned it about with a sort of grays ocmpassion, pointed out two or three blemishes, and said that I, being sr« recently arriyed, could not be expected to know where to supply myself. Said be would send me the address of hia hatter. Then he said, * Pardon me,' and proceeded to cut a neat circle of red tissue-paper ; daintily notched the edges of^^it ; took the mucilage and pasted it in my hat so as to coyer the manu&cturer's name. He said, 'No one will know now where you got it. I will send you a hat-tip of my hatter, and you can pastb ': oyer this tissue drdle.' It was the cahnest, coolest thing — I neyer admired a man so much in my life. Mind, he did this while his own hat sat offensiyelj Moassa, near our noflea^ on *h^ taUe— «n ancient ttLtingnisher of the ' sloach ' pattern, limp And shapelefls with age, diaoolouied by vidssitadeB of the weather, and banded by an equator of bear's grease that had stewed tbxongh. Another time he examined my ooat. I had no terron^ for OTor my tailor's door was the legepid, * By Special Ap- pointment Tailor to H.B.H. the Prince of Wales/ 4ra. I did not know at the time that the most of the tailor shops had the same sign oat, and that whereas it cakee nine tailors to make an ordL^jtry man, it takes a hundred and fifty to make a prince. He was full of compassion for my coat. Wrote down the address of his tailor for me. Did not tell me to mention my nom de pf/ume and the tailor would put his beet wOrk on my garment, as complimentary people someCimai do, but said his tailor would hardly trouble himself for an unknown person (unknown person, when I thought I was so celebrated in England I — ^that was the cruellest out), but cautioned me to mention hit name, and it would be all right. Thinking to be fiEUietious, I said — ' But he might sit up all night aind injure his health.' ' Well, Iri him,' said Bogers ; ' Tte done enough for hini| for him to show some appreciation of it.' I might as well have tried to disconcert a mummy with my fiEUsetiousness. Said Bogers : ' I get all my coats there--w they're the only coats fit to be seen in.' I made one more attempt. I said, 'I wish you had brought one irith you — I would like to look at it.' * Bless your heart, haven't I got one on ! — th%$ article ii lioigan's make.' I examined it. The ooat had been bought ready-mada - 1 S64 JtOOMltS. of a Ohatham Street Jew, without any qnestfon — about 1848. It probably cost four dollars when it waii new. It was ripped, it was frayed, it was napless and gieaay. I could not resist showing him where it was ripped. It so effected him that I was almost sony I had done it. First he seemed plunged into a bottomless abyss of griet Then he roused himself, made a feint with his hands as if waving off the pity of a nation, and said — ^with what seemed to me a manufSaetured emotion — 'No matter; no matter; don't mind me ; do not bother about it. I can get another.' When he was thoroughly restored, so that he could examine the rip and command his feelings, he said, ah, now he understood it — ^his servant must have done it while dressing him that morning. His servant! There was something awe-inspiring in effirontery like this. Nearly every day he interested himself in some article of my dotiiing. One would hardly have expected this sc. of iofeituation in a man who always wore the seme suit, and it a suit that seemed coeval with the Conquest. It was an unworthy ambition, perhaps, but I did wish I oould make this man admire something about me or some- thing I did*— you would have felt the same way. I saw my opportunity : I was about to return to London, and had < listed ' my soiled linen fw the wash. It made quite an imposing mountain in the comer of the room — fifty-four pieces. I hoped he would £uicy it was the accumulation oi a single week. I took up the wash-list, as if to see that it was all right, and then tossed it on the table, with pre- tended forgetfulness. Sure enough, be took it np and ran ROQBJta. -*boat w. It «y. I It 80 First Then waying to me ; don't • ) could ill, not» t while [ring in ) article ihitt sc. nit, and ' wish I >r some- * saw my md had [uite an 5fty-four ktionol ) that it ith pr»- and ran his eye along down to the grand total ^en he said, ' Toa get off ea^,' and laid it down again. His gloTce were the saddest min, hut he told me where I oonld get some like them. His shoee would hardly hold widnuts without leaking, hut he liked to put his feet up on the mantel-p^pce and contemplate them. He wore a dim glasahreastpin, which he called a 'morphylitio diamond'-^ whateyer that may mean — and said only two of them had ever been found — ^the Emperor of China had the other one. Afterward, in London, it was a pleasure to me to see this fentastic vagabond come marching into the lobby of the hotel in his grand-ducal way, for he always had some new imaginary gxundeur to derelop-— there was nothing stale about him buthis clothes. If he addressed me when strangers were about, he always raised his voice a little and called ma < 8ir Richard,' or ' General,' or ' Your Lordship ' — and when people began to stare and look deferential, he would fall to inquiring in a casual way why I disappointed the Duke of Argyll the night before; and then remind me of our en- gagement at the Duke of Westminster's for the following day. I think that for the time being these things were realities to him. He once came and invited me to go with him and spend the evening with the Earl of Warwick at his town house. I said I had received no formal invitation. He said that that was of no consequence, the Earl had no formalities for him or his friends. I asked if I might go Just as I was. He said no, that would hardly do ; evening dress was requisite at night in any gentleman's l^ouse. He said he would wait while I dressed, and then we would go to bis apartments and I could take a bottle of champagne :*< 8fi0 MOOmtA and a dgar wliile he cbreesed. I waa Teiy wilUng io aea how this enterprise would torn out, bo I dresaed and we started to his lodgings. He said if I didn't mind we would walk. So we tramped some four miles through the mud and fogy and finally found his ' apartments : ' they consisted of a single room over a barber's shop in a back street. Two oh 'irs, ^ muM table^ an ancient valise, a wash-basin and pil " (^Mih on the floor in a comer), an unmade bed, a fragL at Ok \ looking-glass, and a flower-pot with a perish- ing little rose geranium in it, which he called a century plants and said it had not bloomed now for upwards of two centuries— given to him by the late Lord PalmersUm — ^been ofiered a pcodigious sum for it — these were the contents of the room. Also a brass candlestick and part of a candle. Eogera lit the candle, and told me to sit down and make myself at home. He said he hoped I was thirsty, because he would surprise my palate with an article of champagne that seldom got into a commoner^s system ; or would I pre- fer sherry, or port) Said he had port in bottles that were swathed in stratified cobwebs, every stratum representing a geneitktion. And as for his cigars — ^well, I should judge of them myself. Then he put his head out at the door and caUed— 'Sackville!' Ko answer. *Hil— Sackvillel' No answer. *'Now what the devil can have become of that butler t' I n&oef allow a servant to--Oh, confound that idiot, he'i got the A^«. Oan't get into the other rooms without the keys,' (I was just wondering at his intrepidity in still keeping Moomtd. to Me and we swotild b6 mud cxDsistod u. Two ain and d bed, a tperish- oentniy 3 of two n — ^been itODtSOf \ candle, ndmake becanae uoapagne Ldlpra- lat were eaenting Id judge loor and butler r lioty he'i lout the keeping np the delusion dt the champagne^ and trying to imagine how he was going to get out of the difficulty.) Kow he stopped calling Saokyille and began t'> call 'Anglesy.' But Anglesy didn't come. He said, <7^ij is the $eeand time that that equeny has been absent without leave. To-morrow HI discharge him.' Now he began to whoop for 'Thomas/ but Thomas didn't answer. Then for ' Theodore,' but no Theodore re- plied. 'Well, I give it up/ said Ro^ s. 'The servants never «3Epeot me at this hour, and so xhi, tc all off on a lark. Blight get along without the equerry and the page, but can't have any wine or cigars without '..^le butler, and can't dress without my valet.' I offered to help him drees, but be would not hear of it ; and besides, he said he would not feel comfortable unless dressed by a practised hand. However, he finally con- eluded that he was such old friends with the Earl that it would not make any difference how he was dressed. So we took a cab, he gave the driver some directions, and we started. By and by we stopped before a large house and got out. I never had seen this man with a collar on. He now stepped underla lunp and got a venerable paper coUar out of his coat pocket, along with a hoary cravat, and put them on. He ascended the stoop, and entered. Presently he reappeared, descended rapidly, and said — * dome— quick I ' We hurried away, and turned the comer. ' Now we're safe,' he said, and took off his collar and cravat and returned them to his pocket I'' BOGEYS. * Made » mighty narrow eflcape/ said ha, 'Howt'iaidL ' B' George, the Oonntefls was there t ' * Well, what of that t — don't ahe know you!' 'Know met Ahsolutely worships me. I jnst did happen to catch a glimpse of her before she saw me — and out I shot. Hadn't seen her for two months — to rush in on her without any warning might have been fatal. She could not have stood it. I didn't know ahe was in town- thought she was at the castle. Let me lean on you— just a moment — there; now I am better — ^thank you; thank you ever so much. Lord bless me, what an escape 1 ' So I never got to call on the Earl after alL But I marked his house for future reforence. It proved to be an ordinary family hotel, with about a thousand plebeians roosting in it. In most things Rogers was by no means a fool. In some things xt was plain enough that he was a fool, but he cer* talnly did not know it. He was in the * deadest ' earnest in these matters. He died at sea, last summer, as the * Earl of Bamsgata* i St did ^-— cjid ash in . She X)Wll-— 1— just tliank But I ;obe an lebdans In some he cer- rnest in le'Eerl TUB LOVES OF ALONZO FITZ CLARENCE AND ROSANNAH ETHELTON. It was well along in the forenoon of a bitter winter's day. The town of Eastport, in the State of Maine, lay buried under a deep snow that was newly fallen. The customary bustle in the streets was wanting. One could look long dis- tances down them and see nothing but a dead-white empti- ness, with silence to match. Of course I do not mean that you could 9tt the silence — ^no, you could only hear it. The sidewalks were merely long, deep ditches, with steep snow walls on either side. Here and there you might hear the fidnt, far scrape of a wooden shovel, and if you were quick enough you might catch a glimpse of a distant black figure stooping and disappearing in otie of those ditches, and reap- pearing the next moment with a motion which you would know meant the heaving out of a shovelful of snow. But you needed to be quick, for that black figure would not linger, but would soon drop that shovel and scud for the house, thrashing itself with its arms to warm them. Yes^ it was too venomously cold for snowHsJiovellers or anybody else to stay out long. Presently the sky darkened; then the wind rose and 6l ' 8 ALONZO FITZ CLABSNCB began to blow in fitful, yigoronB gufU, which stnt doudi fA powdery mow aloft, and etiraight ahead, and eyery where. Under the impulae of one of these gusts, great white drifte banked themselves like graves across the streets ; a moment later, another gust shifted them around the other way, driving a fine spray of snow from their sharp crests, as the gale drives the spume flakes from wave-crests at sea; a third g^st swept that place as clean as your hand, if it saw fit. Thi^ was fooUnff, this was play ; bat each and all of the gusts dumped some snow into the sidewalk ditches, for that WAS business. Alonso Fitz Clarence was sitting in his snug and elegant !ittle parlotur, in a lovely blue silk dressing -gown, with cufik and fSftcings of crimson satin, elaborately quilted. The re- mains of his breakfast were before him, and the dainty and costly little table service added a harmonious charm to the grace, beauty, and Jichness of the fixed appointments of the room. A cheery fire was blaung on the hearth. A furious gust of wind shook the windows, and a great wave of snow washed against them with & drenching sound, so to speak. The handsome young bachelor murmured — * That means, no going out to-day. Well, I am content. But what to do for company 1 Mothor is well enough, Aunt Susan is well enough ; but these, like the poor, I have with me always. On so grim a day as ibis, one needs a new in> terest, a fresh element, to whet the dull ""edge of captivity. That was very neatly said, but ^t doesn't mean anything. One doesn't wamJk tlie edge of captivity sharpened up, you know, but just the reverse/ He glanced at his pretty French mantel-dook. Aim ROSAmfAS BTEBLTON, 'That dock's wrong Again. That olook hmrdlj ever knows what time it is ; and when it does know, it lies about it-— which amounts to the same thing. Alfred 1 ' There was no answer. ' Alfred 1 . • • Qood servant, but as uncertain as the elook.' Alonzo touched an electrical bell-button in the wall. He waited a moment, then touched it again; waited a few moments more, and said — < Battery out of order, no doubt. But now that I have started, I ibiU find out what time it is.' He stepped to a speaking-tube in the wall, blew its whistle, and called, * Mother 1 ' and repeated it twice. ' Well, thai^i no use. Mother's battery is out of order, toa Oan't raise anybody downstairs — that is plain.' He £> it down at a rosewood desk, leaned his chin on the left-hand edge of it, and spoke, as if to the floor : ' Aunt Susan I ' -^ A low, pleasant voice answered, * Is that you, Alonzo I ' ' Yes. I'm too lazy and comfortable to go downstairs ; I am in extremity, and I can't seem to scare up any help.' * Dear me, what is the matter t ' ' Matter enough, I can tell you I * ' Oh, don't keep me in suspo^^e, dear I What if it !' ' I want to know what time it is.' *Tou abominable boy, what a turn you did Ive me t Is thatallf ' All — on my honour. Calm yourself. Tell me the tims^ and receive my blessing.' 262 IB ALONZO FITZ CLARENCE 'Just fiye minutes after nine. Ko charge — keep your bleBsing/ ' Thanks. It wouldn't have impoverished me, aunty, nov 80 enriched you that you could live without other means.' He got up murmuring, * Just five minutes after nine/ and fis;c9d his dock. * Ah,* said he, ' you are doing better tl=^-xx uaual. You are only thirty-four minutes wrong. Let me see ... let me see. . . . Thirty-three and twenty-one are fifty-four ; four times fifty-four are two hundred and thirty- six. One off, leaves two hundred and thii-ty-five. That's right.' He turned the hands of his dock forward tlQ they marked twenty-five minutes to one, and said, 'Now see if you can't keep right for a while . . . else 111 raffle you I ' He sat down at the desk again, and said, ' Aunt Susan I ' * Yos, dear.' ''Had breakfast!' .'Yes indeed, an hour ago.' *Busyr * No — except sewing. Why ! ' * Got any company % ' * No, but I expect some at half past nine.' * I wish / did. I'm lonesome. I want to talk to some- body.' * Very well, talk to me.' * But this is very private.' * Don't be afraid — talk right along ; there's nobody here but me.' * I hardly know whether to venture or not, but * AND HOSANNAH ETHMLTON. Is to some- 'But what ) Oh, don't stop there t You Jcnoto you can trust me, Alonzo — ^you know you can.' ' I feel it, aunt, but !ihis is very serious. It a€ects me deeply — me, and all the &mily — even the whole oom- munity.' ' Oh, Alonzo, tell me 1 I will never breathe a word of it Whatisitr 'Aunt, if I might dare——* ' Oh, please go on 1 I love you, and can feel for you. Tell me all. Oonfide in me. What m it f ' 'The weather!' ' Plague take the weather I I don't see how you can have the heart to serve me so, Lon.' ' There, there, aunty dear, I'm sorry ; I am, on my honour. I won't do it again. Do you forgive me ! ' ' Tes, since you seem so sincere about it, though I know I oughtn't to. You will fool me again as soon as I have for- gotten this time.' * No I won't, honour bright. But such weather, oh^ such weather ! You've got to keep your spirits up artificially. It is snowy, ar.d blowy, and gusty, and bitter cold ! How is the weather with you 1 ' '^ * Warm and rainy and melancholy. The mourners go about the streets with their umbrellas running streams from the end of every whalebone. There's an elevated double pavement of umbrellas stretching down the sides of the streets as far as I can see. I've got a fii'e for cheerfulness, and the windows open to keep cool. But it is vain, it is useless : nothing com^ in but the bakny breath of December, with its burden of mocking odours from the flowers that J S04 ALONZO FITZ CLAMENCS possetss the realm outside, and rejoice in tlieii lawless profunon whilst the spirit of man is low, and flaunt their gaudy splen- dours in his face whilst his soul is clothed in sackcloth and ashes and his heart breaketh/ Alonzo opened his lips to say, * You ought to print that, and get it framed/ but checked himself, for he heard L' ' aunt speaking to some one else. He went and stood at the window and looked out upon the wintry prospect. The storm was driving the snow before it more furiously than ever ; window shutters were slamming and banging ; a for- lorn dog, with bowed head and tail withdrawn from service, was presshig his quaking body against a windward wall for shelter and protection; a young girl was ploughing knee^ deep through the drifts, with her face turned from the blast, and the cape of her waterproof blowing straight rearward over her head. Alonzo shuddered, and said with a sigh, * Better the slop, and the sultry rain, and even the insolent flowers, than this ! ' ' He turned from the window, moved a step, and stopped in a listening attitude. The faint, sweet notes of a familiar song caught his ear. He remained there, with his head unconsciously bent forward, drinking in the melody, stirrincy neither hand nor foot, hardly breathing. There was a blemish In the execution of the song, but to Alonzo it seemed an added charm instead of a defect. This blemish consisted of a marked flatting of the third, fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh notes of the refrain or i^horus of the pieoe. When the music ended, Alonzo drew a deep breath, and said, 'Ah, I never have heard " In the Sweet By-and-By " sung likfl that before 1 ' ^ ANJ> ROSANNAS ETHELTON. S66 He stepped quickly to the desk, listened a moment, and 3aid in a guarded, oonfidential voice, ' Annty, who is this divine singer 1 * * She is the company I was expecting. Stays with me a month or two. I will introduce you. Miss * * For goodness' sake, wait a moment. Aunt Susan 1 You never stop to think what you are about ! ' - He flew to his bed-chamber, and returned in a moment perceptibly changed in his outward appcjirance, and re> marking, snappishly— * Hang it, she would have introduced me to this angel in that sky-blue dressing-gown with red-hot lapels I Women never think when they get a^ing.' ' He hastened and stood by the desk, and said eagerly, ' Now, aunty, I am ready,' and fell to smiling and bowing with all the persuaoiveness and elegance that were in him. ' Yery well. Miss Kosannah Ethelton, lei me introduce to you my favourite nephew, Mr. Alonzo Fitz Clarence. There ! Tou are both good people, and I like you ; so I am going to tiiist you together while I attend to a few household affairs. Sit down, Rosannah ; sit down, Alonzo. Good-by ; I shan't be gone long.' Alonzo had been bowing and smiling all the while, and motioning imaginary young ladies to sit down in imaginary chairs, but now he took a seat himself, mentally saying, ' Oh, this is luck i Let the winds blow now, and the snow drive, and l^e heavens frown 1 Little I care 1 ' While jthese joung people chat themselves into an acquaintanceship, let us take the liberty of inspecting the sweeter and fairer of the two. She sat alone, at her grace- i! -I I i. I II » * ■!» "f! .>*■ -^ / ^i t- s n ALONZO FITZ CI ^^^v J^ 'Pl ",.'>■ /-W- ltd ease, in a richly furnished aparhr .eur- tr hirh was umbI* feetly the private parlour of a refined and sensible lady, if signs and symbols may go for anything. For inptance, by ft low, comfortable chau* stood a dainty, top-'ieavy work- stand, whose summit was a fancifully embroidered shallow basket, with yari-coloure(^i crewels, and other strings and odds and ends, protruding from under the gaping lid and hanging down in negligent profusion. On the floor lay bright shijds of Turkey red, Prussian blue, and kindred fabrics, bits of ribbon, a spool or two, a pair of scissors, and a roll or so of tinted silken stufls. On a luzurioub sofa, uphohtered with some sort of soft In^kn goods wrought in black and gold threads interwebbod ^rith other threads not so pronounced in colour, lay a great square of coarse white stuff, upon whose surface a rich bouqueb of flowers was growing, under the deft e^iltiitvtion of the crochet needle. The household cat was asleep on this work of art. In a k.y -window .d an easel with an unfii^ished picture on it, and a paletto and brushes en a chair beside it. There were books everywhere: Robertson's Sermons, Tennyson^ Moody and Sankey, Hawthorne, 'Bab and his Friends,' cook-books, prayer-books, pattern-books — and books aboui; all kinds of odious and exasperating pottery, of course. There was a piano, with a deckload of music, and more in a tender. There was a great plenty of pictures on the walls, on the Bhelves of the mantel-piece, and around generally ; where ooigr:. of vantage offered were statuettes, and quaint and jpr »tty gimcr»cks, and rare and costly specimens of peculiarly devilish china. The bay-window gave upon a garden that was ftbiase with foreigJi and dom^ic flowers and Sowerin^ighi'ubi. ^f^M.: AND ROSANNAJBL BTEELTON. m But the HV766ti young ^1 was the daintiest thing tho^^ premises, within or without, could offer for contemp'a; ion i delicately chiselled features, of Grecian cast ; hereon); ^licv the pure snow of a japonica that is receiving a faint reusscttid enrichment from some scarlet neighbour of the garden; great soft blue eyes fringed with long, curving lashes; an ex- pression made up of the trustfulness of a child and the gentleness of a fawn ; a beautiful head crowned with its own prodigal gold ; a lithe and rounded figure, whose every attitude and movement were instinct with native grace. Her dress and adornment were marked by that exquisite harmony that can come only of a fine natural taste pc^rfected by culture. Her gown was of a simple magenta tulle, cut bias, traversed by three rows of light blue flounces, with the selvage edges turned up with ashes-of-ro&es ^bciiilid; overdress of dark bay tarlatan, with scarlet satin lambrequins; corn-coloured polonaise, en ycmier, looped wicli Toctner-of- pearl buttons and silver cord, and hauled afh ' ?d mi-.de fast by buff- velvet lashings; basque of lavender <eps, picke^^ out with Valenciennes; low nook, short fcleeve^v laroon- velvet necktie edged with delicate pink silk ; injaicte hand- kerchief of some simple three-ply ir grain fabrio of a soil ea&ou tint ; coral bracelets and locket-chain ; coiffure of forget-me-i.ots and lilies uf the valley mas&ed around a noble c^la. This was all ; yet even in this uubdued attire she wa« divinely beautiful. Then what must she have bt^n when ftdonif d for the festival or the ball ! All this time she had been busfjy chattLig with Alonzo, imconsdoxis of our inspection. The miButea still sped, and I '■rf* il ALOKZO FirZ CZAHENCB ■till she talked. But by and by she happened to look up, and saw the clock. A crimaon blush sent its rich flood through her cheeks, and she exclaimed— < * There, good-bye, Mr. Fitz Clarence ; I must go now ! * * She sprang from her chair with such haste that she hardly heajfd the young man's answering good-bye. She stood radiant, graceful, beautiful, and gazed, wondering, upon the accusing clock. Presently her pouting lips parted, and she ■aid — ' Fire minutes after eleven 1 Nearly two hours, and it did not seem twenty minutes 1 Oh, dear, what will he think of me ! ' At the self-same moment Alonzo was staring at hU dock. And presently he said — * Twenty-five miuutes to three ! Nearly two hours, and I didn't beUeye it was two minutes ! Is it possible that this dock is humbugging again ! Miss Ethelton ! Just one Bpoment, please. Are you there yet 1 * * Yes, but be quick ; I'm going right away.' * Would yon be so kind as to tell me what time it is 1 ' The girl blushed again, murmjired to herself, * It's right flown cruel of him to ask mel' and then spoke up and »m; vered with admirably counterfeited unconcern, * Five mm 'tea after eleven.' * Oh, thank you 1 You have to go, now, have yoa ! ' •Yes." * Tm sorry.' No reply. 'Miss Ethelton I • •Welir AND JROaANNAH BTHELTON, * You— you're there yet, ain*t you \* * Yes -y but please huny. What did you want to say ^ * * Well, I — well, nothing in particular. It's rery lone- some here. It's asking a great deal, I know, but would you mind talking with me again by and by — t)iat is, if it will not trouble you too much 1 ' * I don't know— but I'll think about it. Ill try.* ' Oh, thanks I Miss Etbelton t . . . Ah me, she's gone, and here are the black clouds and the whirling snow and the raging winds come again ! But she said good-bye / She didn't say good-morning, she said good-b} e ! . . . The clock was right, after all. What a lightniug- winged two hours it wasl' He sat down, and gazed dreamily into his ifire for a while, then heaved a sigh and said — * How wonderful it is I Two little hours ago I was a free man, and now my heart's in San Francisco 1 ' About that time Bosannah Ethelton, propped in the window-seat of her bed-chamber, book in hand, was gasing vacantly out over the rainy seas that washed the Qolden Gate, and whispering to herself, * How different he is from poor Burley, with his empty head and his single little anUo talent of mimicrv 1 ' 11 i ; ^ XL Pour weeks later Mr. Sidney Algernon Burley was enter^ taining a gay luncheon company, in a sumptuous drawing- room on Telegraph Hill, with some capital imitations of the voices and ^tures of certain popular actors and San m ALONZO FITZ CLARENCJB Franciscan literary people and Bonanza grandees. He wai elegantly upholstered, and was a handsome fellow, barring a trifling cast in his eye. He seemed very jovial, but never- theless he kept his eye on the door with an expectant and uneasy watchfulness. By and by a nobby lackey appeared, and delivered a message to the mistress, who nodded her head understandingly. That seemed to settle the thing for Mr. Burley ; his vivacity decreased little by little, and a dejected look began to creep into one of his eyes and a sinister one into the other. The rest of the company departed in due time, leaving him with the mistress, to whom he said — * 'piere is no longer any question about it. She avoids me. She continually excuses herself. If I could see her, if I could speak to her only a moment — but this sus- pense * * Perhaps her seeming avoidance is mere accident, Mr. Burley. Go to the small drawing-room up-stairs and amuse yourself a moment. I will despatch a household order that is on my mind, and then I will go to her room. With- out doubt she will be persuaded tc' see you.* Mr. Burley went up-stairs, intending to go to the small drawing-]^m, but as he was passing ' Aunt Susan's ' pri- vate parlour, the door of which stood slightly ajar, he heard a joyous laugh which he recognised j so without knock or announcement he stepped confidently in. But before ha eould make his presence known he heard words that bar* rowed up his soul and chilled his young blood. He heard 8 voice say — *Dai*liQg, it has come I ' AND ROSANNAE ETHELTOK m Thsn he heard Kosannah Etheiton, whose baok wai toward him, say— ' So has yours, dearest t ' He saw her bowed form bend lower ; he heard her kiss ■omething, — not merely once, but again and again 1 His soul raged within him. The heart-breaking conversation went on — 'Bosannah, I knew you must be beautiful, but this is' dazzling, this is blinding, this is intoxicating 1 ' * Alonzo, it is such >iappiness to hear you say it. I know it IS not true, but I am «o grateful to have you think it is, nevertheless I I knew you must have a noble face, but the grace and majesty of the reality beggar the poor creation of mj^ fancy,' Burley heard that rattling shower of kisses again. 'Thank you, my Kosannah 1 The photograph flatten me, but you must not allow yourself to think of that. Sweetheart I ' * Yes, AlonK).' ' I am so happy, Rosannah.' ' Oh, Alcmzo, none that have gone before me knew what love was, none that come after me will ever know what happiness is. I float in a gorgeous doudland, a boundless firmament of enchanted and bewildering ecstasy 1 ' ' Oh, my Rosannah I — for you are mine, are you not t ' . * Wholly, oh, wholly yours, Alonzo, now and for ever I All the day long, and all through my nightly dreams, one song sings itself, and its sweet burden is, "Alonzo Fits Okrence, Alonxo Fitz Clarence, Eastport, State of Maine!'" i ' I'l S7S ALONZO FITZ CLAMENCB 'Oune him, Tve got Lib addreis, anj wayl' roared Burley, inwardly, and rushed from the place^ Jost behind the unconrcious Alonzo stood his mother, a picture of astonishment. She was so muffled from hea(^. to heel in furs that nothing of herself was visible but her eyes and nose. She was a good allegory of winter, for she was powdered all over with snow. Behind the unconscious Rosannah stood ' Aunt Susan,' another picture of astonisliment. She was a good allegory of summer, for she was lightly clad, and was vigorously cooling the perspiitition on her face with a fan. Both of these women had tears of joy in their eyes. ' So ho 1 ' exclaimed Mrs. Fitz Clarence, ' this explains why nobody has been able to drag you out of jrour room for ■ix weeks, Alonao 1 ' 'So hoi' exclaimed Aunt Susan, 'this explains why you have been a hermit for the past six weeks, Bosannah I ' The young couple were on their feet in an instant, abashed, and standing like detected dealers in stolen goods awaiting Judge Lvnch's doom. ' Bless you, my son 1 I am happy in your happiness. Come to your mother's arms, Alonzo ! ' * Bless you, Rosannah, for my dear nephew's sake I Come to my arms 1 * ^ . Then was there a mingling of hearts and of tears of re- joicing on Telegraph Hill and in Eastport Square. Servants were called by the elders, in both places. Unto one was given the order, ' Pile this fire high with hickory wood, and bring me a roasting-hot lemonade.' AND ROSANNAH STHELTON. Unto the other was given the order, ' Put out this fire, and bring me two palm-leaf fans and a pitcher of ice-water.' Then the young people were diflmissed, and the elders ■at down to talk the sweet surprise over and make tht wedding plans. Some minutes before this Mr. Burley rushed from tht mansion on Telegraph Hill without meeting or taking formal leave of anybody. He hissed through his teeth, in unconscious imitation of a popular favourite in melodrama, ' Him shall she never wed 1 I have sworn it 1 Ere great Nature shall have dofifed her winter's ermine to don the emerald gauds of spring, she shall be mine 1 ' UL Two weeks later. Every few hours, during some three or four days, a very prim and devout-looking Episcopal clergyman, with a cast in his eye, had visited Alonjzo. Aooor^ng to his card, he was the Eev. Melton Hargrave, of Oindnnati. He said he had retired from the ministry on account of his health. If he had said on account of Ul health, he would probably have erred, to judge by his wholesome looks sknd firm build. He was the inventor of an improvement in telephones, and hoped to make his bread by selling the privilege of using it. * At present,* he con- tinued, ' a man may go and tap a telegraph wire which is conveying a song or a concert from one State to another, and hi' can attach his private telephone and steal a hearing il i IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET {MT-3) 1.0 i.l 11.25 2.0 I li£ 11=6 /] >>. y /^ Hiotographic Sciences Corporation 23 WIST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14S«0 (716) 872-4503 -$^ \^^ iV :\ \ '^ ^^ o^ '^ "^ mtmi>iKkm.m^f «<ita«**-,t»»*.dnK-. Ml ^ AZ0NZ6 MmS CLAJtSNCM ol tb^t nnude as it i^um: along. My inTentioii will atop all Ihat' < Well/ answered Alonso, 'if the owner of the miisio oonld not miss what was stolen, why should he care f ' * He shouldn't oare»' said the Beverend. < Well t ' said Alonao inqniringly. ^Suppose,' replied the Raverend, <sappose that» instead of mnsic that was passing along and being stolen, the Burden of the wire was loving endearments of the most private and ■acred nature t' Alonso shuddered from head to heel. 'Sir, It is a piioeloBS invention,' said he ; ' I must have it at any cost.' Bat the invention was delayed somen liere on the road from Oinctnnati, most nnaocountably. The impatient AUmao oould hardly wait The thought of Bosannah's sweet words being shared with him by some ribald thief was galling to him* The Beverend came frequently and lamented the delay, and told of measures he had taken to huny things up. This was <<onie little oomfbrt to Alonso. ' One forenoon the Beverend ascended the stairs and knocked at Alonio's door. There was no response. He entered, glanced eagerly around, dosed the door softly, then ran to the telephone.. The exquisitely soft and remote •trains of the ' Sweet By-«nd-By ' came floating through the instrument. The singer was flatting, as usual, the five notes that follow the first t'^fu in tiie chorus, when the Beverend interrupted her with this word, in a voioe whi<& was an exact imitatSon of Alonzo's, with just the |lavo>iir of impatit^ce added— •^^2> nOSANNAH BTMBLTON, trtk 'SweethwurU' Th, .glle rtq. th.t goe. with . Uppy he«t WM hearf «. ^ «fi^ behind th, heavy fold, rf th. vel Jwinir ^^ ^"^ «tered «ui flew to the telephone. Seid ' Boeannah. dear, ehaU we dng «mething together r S-aeUung mo*m/'«4ed d« with «««tio Ktte,. 'YeB, if yoo prefer. Sing it yours^ if yon likci I » 'BoniiiiAh, that was not like yon.' ^'^ VI-iWOBeitbecome. me « muidi m yenr^poKf i1»eech became yon, Mr. Kt« dawnce.' fanJ.lfT!^'* ^'^''' ^'^''^^ "^ ^ nothing impohte abont my speech.' ^ -Ohindeedl Ofoon«e, th.n,ImiHnnde«toodyoa,and I moe^ humbly beg your Ko donb^yoa ■Md, "Don't Bing it any mow to^ay."' « Sing le^ any more to-day ! » • The Bong yon mentioned, of con«a Howveiyobtu* we are, all of a sudden I ' * I never mentioned any soi^.' •Oh,yonrfw?»'l/» ^^ ALONZO FITZ CLAMSNOS * I am oompelled to remark that y<m did* < And I am obliged to mterate that I didnV *A aeoond rudenaeBl That ia aufficifliit, sb. I will never forgivo yon. AU ia ow between na.' Then came * muffled Bonnd of crying. Alonao haatened to flay—' «0h, Boaannah, nnaay thoae wordal There ii lome areadfoi myafcery teze, flome hideona mistake. lamntteriy ewneat and ainoere when I aay I new aaid anything about anyaong. I wonld not hmrt yon for the whole world .. . Kosannah, dear! ... Oh, apeak to me, won't yon!' There was a panse; then Alonao heard thejprraaobbinga letareating, and knew she had gone from the telephone, fle loae with a kei^vy »gh and hastened from tl^e room, flaying to himadf, «I will ransack the charity misaiona and the hftunta of the poor>r my moth«f. She wiU persnade her that T never meant to wonnd her.' A minnte later, the Bevetend waa cronehmg over the telephone like a cat that knoweth the waya of the prey. He had not very many minntea to wait. A aoft» repentant Toioe, tremnlona with teara, flaid— « Alonao, dear, I have been wrong. Yon oouM not have said flo oniel a thing, It mnat have been aome one who im*. tated yonr voice in malioe or in jeat' The Reverend coldly answered, in Alonao'a tonea— * Yon have aain all waa over between na. So let it b^ I apnm yonr proflfered repentance, and deepiae it I ' Then he departed, radiant with fiendish triumph, t» letnia no more with hia imaginary, telephonic invention for ever. lV)ur hooia afterward, Akmao arrived with hia mother :v - AND JHOSANirAB STMBLTONi S77 ftmn her &Toiiiito haunts of poreiij and yioe. They sum* monedtheBpml^ra&cifloohoiiflehold; hut there wm no raplj, Thej waited, end oontiniied to wait^ npon the trlciel«M tele- phone* At length, when it waa aonaet in San nranoiioo, and three hocini and a half after dark In Eaitport^ an anewer etme to the oft-repeated ory of ' Boeannah I ' Bnt^ alaa 1 it was Aunt Susan's Toioe that spake. She said— 'I haye heen out all daj ; just got in. I will go and find her.' The watchers waited two mlnntea— fiye minntes— -ten minutes. Then came these &tal wordsy in a lightened ' She is gone^ and her baggage with h^. To yisit an- other friendy she told the servants. But I fornd this note on the table in her lo^iai. listen: '' I am gone ; seek not to traoe me out ; mj heart is broken ; yon will never see me mora Tell him I shall always think of him when I sing my poor ' Sweet By-and-By/ but never of. the unkind words he said about it." That is her note. Alonso, Alonao, what doesitmeant What has hi^pened t ' But AlouBO sat white and oold as the dead. His mother threw back the velvet ourtains and opened a window. The oold air refreshed the sufferer, and he tdd his aunt his dismal story. Meantime his mother was inspecting a card which had disdoasd itself upon the floor when she oast the eortains badt. It read, < Mr. Sidney Algernon Burley, San Wandsco.' 'The mi sc re a n t I * shouted Alwmo, and rushed fivth ti m AZONZO FITZ ClAMBNOS iMk the fUae Beverend and destroy Mm; Ibr the end es- plained evenrthing, tinoe in the oouzte of the lovenf mutual oonf&Kions they had told each other all aboat all the swee^ bearte they had ever had, and thrown no end of mud at theb fidUngs and foiblea— for loven alwaye do that. It has • fiuKrination that ranks next after billing and oooing. IV. During the next two months many things happened. It had early transpired that Eosannah^ poor scuffeiing orphan, had neither returbed to her grandmother in Portland, Oregon, nor sent any word to her save a duplicate of the woful note she had left in the mansion on Telegraph HiU. Whosoever was sheltering her — ^if shv^ was sUll alive — ^had been peprsuaded not to betray her whereabouts, without doubt I for aJl efforts to find trace of her had fisdled. Did Alonsogiveher upt Not he. He said to hinself, ' She will sing that sweet song when she is sod ; I shall find her.' So he took his carpet sack and a poxifible telephone^ and shook the snow of his native dty &om his arotios, and went fi)rth into the world. He wandered &r and wide and in many States. Time and again, strangers were iMtounded to see a wasted, pale, and woe-worn man laboriously dimb a tciegraph-pole in wintry and lonely places, perch sadly there an hour, with his ear at a little box, then come sighing down, and wander wearily away. Sometimes they fibnA at him, as peasants do at aeronauts, thinking him mad and dangerous. Thus hia dlothes were much shredded by bullets, AND MOSANSAM STSSLtON. if. And Ml person grievouBly liuMrated. Bnl he b»t ili all pfttieDtlj. In tiie beginning of his pilgrimAge he med often to lajy «Ah, if I oould but hear the ''Sweet Bj-and-Bj"!' Bat toward the end of it he used to shed tean of angnish and mjf ' Ah, if I could but hear something else 1 ' Thus a month and three weeks drifted hy, and at last some hwnane people seised him and confined him in a private mad-house in New York. He made no moan, te Ids strength was all gone, and with it all heart and all hope. The superintendent^ in pity, gave up Ids own comfortahia parlour and bed-chamber to him and nursed him with aflfoo- iionate derotion. At th:^ rad of a week the patient was able to leave his bed fisr the first time.. He was lying, comfortably pillowed, on a 8ofi^ listening to the plainiiye Miserere of the hkmk Maxoh winds, and the muffled sound of tramping fiaet in the street below,->-for it was about six in the erening^ and New York was going home from work. He had a bright fire and the added cheer of a couple of student lamps. So it wae warm and snug within, though bleak and raw without; it was light and Imght within, though outside it was as dark mod dreary as if the world had been lit with Hartford gas. Alonso smiled fisebly to think how his loving vagaries had made him a E^ianiao in the eyes of the world, and was pro- ceeding to pursue his line of thought further, when a ikint^ iweet straur, the veiy ghost of sound, so remote and a^ tenuated it seemed, struck upon his ear. His pulses stood still; he listened with parted %i and bated breath. The «oiig flowed on— he waiting^ listening, rising slowty and* ALONZO FXTZ OLAMiiNClS vnoQiiadbiiily fSrom bis reouinbeat position. At Itfl bt exolaimed—' 'Itifll itisshel Oh, the diWne flatted notes I' He dragged himaeif eagerly to the oomer whence the sounds proceeded, tore aside a eurtain, and discovered a telephone. He be^it oyer, and as the last note died away lie burst forth with the exclamation— *Ohy thank Heayen, found at lastl Speak to me^ Bosannah, dearest 1 Xheomel mystery has been unrayelled; it was the yillain Bnrley who mimicked my yoioe and wounded you with insolent speech I ' There was a bceathless pause, a waiting age to Alonio ; then a &int sound oame^ inssaxkg itself into language^— * Oh, say those precious words agaiz^, Alonao I ' ' They are the truth, the yeritable truth, my Bosannah, and you shall have the proof, ample and abundant pioofr ' Oh, Alonso, stay by me t Leave me not for a moment I Lot me feel that you aie near me 1 TeU me we shall never be parted m* »re I Ob, this happy hour, this Ueesed hour, this memoraUe hour J ' ' We wiU mai?s record of it, my Bosannah ; every yew, as this d^ar hour chimes from the dock, we will celebrate H with thanksgivings, aU the years of our life/ « We will, we will, Alonao I' < Four minutes alter six, in the evening, my Bosannah shall henceforth——' ' Twenty-tiiree minutes after twelve, afternoon, shall—— ' Why, Bosannah, darling, where are you T ^\& Honolulu, Sandwidi Islands. And where are yoal \l ^'''' AJfL BOaANNAM BTMMLTOB. by me; do not leave me for a momesi I oaimot bear H Are yoa at home t ' ' No^ dear, I am in New York— a pa^t in the dootor^a handa.' An ligoniong shriek came buzang to Alonao'a ear, like the sharp bnzziiig of a hurt gnat; it loat power in traTelling lite thoneuid milet. Alonn> haatened to saj-— 'Calm jonrMil^ my child. It ii nothing. Already I am getting w«dl under the sweet healing of your presenoeb Rosannaht' * Tes^ Aloniot Oh, how joa terrified me I Say on.' * Name the happy day, Bosannah I * There was a little pause. Then a difi^ent small Toloe replied, < I Uiish— but it is with pleasure, it is with hi^* ness. Would— would yon like to have it soon < ' ' This very night, Bosannah I Oh I let us rkk no more delays. Let it be now! — this very night, this vesy moment 1' ' Oh, yon impatient creature I I have nobody here but my good old unde^ a missionary for a generation, and now retired fnm. service— nobody but him and hie ysiSb. I would so dearly li^e it if your mother and your aunt Busan—- — ' ' Owr mother and our auui Susan, my Bosannah.' ' Yes, our mother and our aunt Susan — ^I am content to word it so if it pleases yon ; I would sc like to have them present.' 'So would L Suppose you telegraph Aunt Susan. How long would it take Yit^ to come ?' 'The steamer leaves Ebn Itumbsoo day after tOHnov* AJLOmO Fin CLAUBNCM tow. The paasage it eight dayi. Sh« would be 1i«m m Mazdi 31. < ' Then name Aprfl 1 : do, Boeannah, dear/ ' Meroj, it would make ua Apiil fools, Alonio t* ' So we be the happiest ones that that day's sim looki down upon in the whole broad expanse of the globe^ whj need we oare 1 Gall it April 1, dear.' <Then April 1 it shaU be, with all mj heart!' 'Oh, happiness 1 Name the hour, too, Bosannah.' «I like the morning, it is so bUthe. Will eight in the morning do, Alonzo t ' ' The loYeUeet hour in the day— since it will make you mine.' ' ' There was a feeble but frantic sound for some little time, as if wool-lipped, disembodied spirits wen exchanging kisses; then Bosannah said, 'Exeuse me just a moment^ dear ; I have an appointment, and am called to meet it.' The young girl sought a large parlour and took her plaoe «t a window which looked out upon a beautifbl scene. To the lefb one oould view the charming Nuuana Valley, fringed with its ruddy flush of tropical floweis and. its plumed and graceful ooooa palms; its rising foot-hills clothed in the shining green of lemon, dtron, and orange groves; its storied precipice beyond, where the firsf Kamehameha drove his defeated foes over to their destruction — a spot that had ^forgotten its grim histoiy, no doubt, for now it was smiling, as ahnost always at noonday, under the glowing arches of a seooessbn of rainbowa In front of the window one could see ^e quaint toTn, and here and there a ptoturesque groiqp fif dusky natives, enjoying the blistering weather; and hf A2m MOHANNAM BTBBLTON. to the right lay^ tm^Siim oof An, tonbg iti white miM ia th« Bonshina "^ Bosannah itoodthare, in her filmy white raiment, flaming her flushed and heated farje, waiting. A Kanaka hoy, elothed in a damaged hlui< neck-tie and part of a silk hat, thnut his head in ftt the door, and annoonned, <1Visoo kaoUr * Show him in/ said tho girl, straightening herself up and assuming a meaning dignity. Hr. Sidney Algernon Burley entered, dad from head to heel in dazzling snow— that is to say, in the h'ghtest and whitest of Irish linen. He moT«d eag^ly forward, b t the girl made a gesture and gave hxm a look which checked him suddenly. She said coldly, * I am here, as I promised. I believed your assertions, I yielded to your importunities, and said } ^ould name the day. I name the 1st of April — eight in the ing. Now go 1 ' < Oh, my dearest, if tbe gn '<of a life-time ■■'* * Kot a word. Span) me all sight of you, all communi- cation with youy untQ that hour. No— no supplications ; I will have it so.' When he was gone, she sank exhausted in a chair, tor the long siege of troubles she had undergone had wasted her strength. Presently she oaid, < What a nanow eeoape 1 If the hour afpointed had been an hour earlier Oh, honor, what an escape I liave made I And to think I had come to imagine I was loving this beguiling, this truthless, this treacherous monster 1 Oh, he shall repent his villany 1 ' Let lis now draw this history to a dose, for little more needs to be told. On the 2nd of the ensuing April thf Honolulu ' Advertiser ' contained this notice a-— r AtOmO m% CLAMMlSfQM BCuuuiD. — ^In thin dtgr^ bgr takphom^ ynterdfty morn- ing, at d|^t o'dook, by Rot. Kathaa Hayi, MdaM lij B«r. KathMdel Davis of New York, Mr. Alamo Ifiti 01al«no^ clEurtiKurt^ Maine, U. a, and MIm Boeannah Bthelton, o£ Portland, Or^n, XT. a Mnk Suian Howland of Ban IVanoiaoo, a firiend of the bride, was present, she being the gaest of the Ber. Mr. Hays and wift^ nnole and aont of the bride, Mr. Sidney Algernon Burley, of San Frandsoo^ was also present, bat did not lemaln tOl the eondnsion of the marriage serrioe. Oaptain Hawthorne's beautiful yaoht, tastefoll J decorated, was in waiting, and the happj bride and her friends immediately departed on a briMlal trip to Lahaina and Haleakala. 4 The New York papers of the same date contained this notioe s— • Mabub).— In this dty, yesterday, by telephone, at half- past two in the morning, bj Ber. Nathaniel Daris, assisted by Ber. Nathan Hays, of Honolnla, Mr. Alonao Fits 01a- lenoe, of Eas(q[Kxrt» Maine» and Miss Bosannah Ethelton, of Portland, Oregon. The parents and sereral friends of the bridegroom were present^ and ei\i€iyed asumptoons breek&st and muoh ftsttrity until nearly sunrise^ and then deputed on a bridal trip to the Aquarium, the bridegroom's state of health not admitting of a more extended journey. Toward the close of that memorable day, Mr. and Mrs. Alonao Pits Olarenoe were buried in sweet oonTerse omf oeming the pleasures of their sereral bridal toon, ^iriien suddenly the young wife exohumed. 'Oh, Lonny, I Ibrgoif I did what I said I would.' 4 .- ">. Aim MOBAinrAM mtssltm. 'IndMdldicL I niAda Mmi the April fiwl 1 Anaitoia l^biiao, toot Aliyit WM A ohamiiiig nupriMl 13i«ro 1m itood, tfroltaring In a bUok dren wa^ with tbe mwoary iMldbog oat of tlM top of tho thamioniotir, wmiting to be iiMRied« Ton ihoiild hftTO leeQ tho look he §»▼• wImh I whlfperad it in hii mt I All 1 hli wickednaM ooilmo niAny ft betrtMlie and num^ * taer, but tbo loore wai aU iqnAred up, tli«n» 8o tho Yongeftil fooling wmit right oat of mj boMrt, and I begged him to etay, end leid I forgRTO him enrwrything. Bat he woaldn*t He leid he wonld live to be ftTonged; leid he woald make our liTii a oone to m. Bat he 0Rn% oflMi he, deer I' ' Herer in thii world, my Bueenneh I' Aont Soean, the Oregonien grendmother, and the yoong eoaple and their Eaetport parenti, are all h^ipy et thie writings and likely to remain eo. Aont Soian broa|^t the bride from the Idande, aooompanied her aaoii oar oontfr nenty and had the happine« of witneeiing the n^vtarooe meeting between an adoring hoebaiid and wife who had nerer seen eech other antil that moment. A word about the wretched Boley, whoee wicked madhinatione eame eo near wrecking the hearto and Ihree of our poor"" young friends, will be eufficient. In a murderooa ^attempt to seiie a crippled and helpleBe artisan who he frncied had done him some small offence^ he feU into a caldron of boiUng oH, and expired belbre he could be ex« V ^ Ff- ffrf«(«tf «« Tm BAIXARTmS PRBM Spott&swooob. Baixartvnb # Co. Ln^t OoMkM#«r> £o«Nfeie # Mom, SNf MmI