THOMAS L. MASSON 
 
 .X^. fi/- 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 
 ^v
 
 AMERICAN ORATIONS, to Illustrate American Politi- 
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 HUMOROUS MASTERPIECES FROM AMERICAN 
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 Three vols., i6mo, $3.75 and $4.50. 
 
 G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS, Nkw York and London.
 
 Humorous Masterpieces 
 
 FROM 
 
 AMERICAN LITERATURE 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 EDWARD T. MASON 
 
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 G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 
 
 Silje ^nitlurbotlur J^rcss 
 
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 G. p. PUTNAM'S SONS 
 
 1886 
 
 TTbc ■fcitlcfecrboclicr f>rc99, lAcw )jorh 
 
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 (J. 1*. Puliiaiii'k Soil!)
 
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 M2>7l 
 
 V.I 
 PREFACE. 
 
 THE chief object of these volumes is to 
 amuse ; but, perhaps, they may also 
 lielp to illustrate some phases of American 
 literature. Humor is certainly one of the 
 strong characteristics of our literature ; and 
 the attempt has here been made to bring to- 
 gether, in an attractive form and within a 
 moderate compass, some worthy examples of 
 humorous writing, from the time of Irving to 
 the present day. It need scarcely be said that 
 no claim is made to an exhaustive treatment of 
 the subject. 
 
 The title for the series was chosen, with some 
 hesitation, as being fairly descriptive, in a gen- 
 eral sense. Its strict accuracy may doubtless, 
 in certain instances, be open to question ; for, 
 while it is believed that nothing unworthy of 
 preservation has been admitted, it was neces- 
 sary, in order to make the work fitly representa- 
 tive, to include some sketches which are hardly 
 entitled to take rank as masterpieces. In jus- 
 
 iii 
 
 
 irN'vV
 
 IV PREFACE. 
 
 tice to himself, the editor must add that the 
 final choice of the particular material selected 
 has not always been decided by his preference, 
 and is not always in entire accord with his judg- 
 ment ; in a few cases it was found necessary to 
 leave the selection to be determined by the 
 wishes of the respective authors or of their 
 publishers. 
 
 A well-founded, undeniable grievance, the 
 grounds for which can be clearly set forth, is so 
 comfortable a luxury, that there is a strong 
 temptation to dwell upon a few of the special 
 difficulties which have perplexed the compiler 
 of these volumes. But, Cni bono ? If the work- 
 is dull, apologies are quite useless ; if it is not 
 dull, they are uncalled for. 
 
 Cordial thanks are due to the many living 
 writers whose work is here represented. It is 
 pleasant to be able to say that, in a correspond- 
 ence with more than fifty literary workers, not 
 a letter has been received which was not 
 gracious in spirit and courteous in expression. 
 The editor would express his deep sense of 
 obligation for kindnesses which he had no right 
 to expect. lie would also acknowledge his 
 large indebtedness to Mr. Geo. Haven Putnam, 
 whose skilful aid removed some unexpected
 
 PREFACE. V 
 
 and embarrassing obstacles, and whose wise 
 counsel justly entitles him to be considered a 
 co-editor of this work. 
 
 The larger part of the material has been taken 
 from copyrighted books, and could not have 
 been used without the consent of the copyright 
 owners and the publishers. This consent was 
 freely given, and is thankfully acknowledged. 
 The publishing firms to whose courtesy the edi- 
 tor is indebted for permission to use selections 
 from works owned or published by them are : 
 Messrs. D. Appleton & Co. ; G. W. Carleton & 
 Co. ; Cassell & Co. ; The Century Co. ; Estes & 
 Lauriat ; Fords, Howard, & Hurlbut ; Harper & 
 Brothers ; Henry Holt & Co. ; Houghton, Mif- 
 flin, & Co. ; Lee&Shepard; Mitchell & Miller ; 
 the editor of Outing ; T. B. Peterson & Broth- 
 ers ; Roberts Brothers ; Charles Scribner's 
 
 Sons ; and Ticknor & Co. 
 
 E. T. M.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Washington Irving 1-24 
 
 Wouter Van Twiller 
 
 
 
 I 
 
 Wilhelmus Kieft . 
 
 
 
 10 
 
 Peter Stuyvesant . 
 
 
 
 . 16 
 
 Antony Van Corlear 
 
 
 
 . 18 
 
 General Van Poffenburgh 
 
 
 
 21 
 
 Nathaniel Hawthorne , 
 
 
 
 25-47 
 
 Dr. Heidegger's Experiment . 
 
 
 
 • 25 
 
 The British Matron 
 
 
 
 . 43 
 
 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 
 
 
 
 . 48 
 
 A Wraith in the Mist 
 
 
 
 . 48 
 
 Edmund Quincy 
 
 
 
 49-84 
 
 Who Paid for the Prima Donna ? 
 
 
 
 . 49 
 
 Oliver Wendell Holmes . 
 
 
 
 85-96 
 
 Foreign Correspondence 
 
 
 
 . 85 
 
 Music Pounding 
 
 
 
 89 
 
 The Old Man Dreams . 
 
 
 
 . gi 
 
 Dislikes .... 
 
 
 
 ■ 93 
 
 Harriet Beecher Stowe 
 
 
 
 97-105 
 
 Sam Lawson .... 
 
 
 
 • 97 
 
 Henry Ward Beecher 
 
 
 
 106-117 
 
 Deacon Marble 
 
 
 
 . 106 
 
 The Deacon's Trout 
 
 
 
 . 109 
 
 The Dog Noble and the Empty Hole 
 
 
 . Ill 
 
 Apple Pie 
 
 
 
 . "3 
 
 Vll
 
 VI II 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGB 
 
 JosEi'ii G. Baldwin 118-142 
 
 Ovi.l Bolus, Esq 118 
 
 I'REDEKicK William Suklton .... 143-141J 
 Incidents ill a Retired Life ..... 143 
 
 Thomas Bangs TuoRrE '50-155 
 
 A " Hoosier" in Search of Justice . . 150 
 
 John Godfrey Sa.xe 156-157 
 
 The Coquette — A Portrait ..... 156 
 
 James Thomas Fields 158-166 
 
 The Pettibone Lineage . . . . . • 158 
 
 Frederick S. Cozzens 167-178 
 
 The Family Horse ...... 167 
 
 Henry W, Shaw ("7^/5 i9«//jM^j") . . . 179-183 
 
 The Musketeer 179 
 
 Laffing 180 
 
 James Russell Lowell 184-198 
 
 At Sea 184 
 
 The Chief Mate 186 
 
 The Courtin' ........ 194 
 
 Lucretia p. Hale 199-212 
 
 Modern Improvements at the Peterkins . . . 199 
 
 Edward Everett Hale 213-235 
 
 My DouMc and How He Undid Me . . . 213 
 
 Richard Malcolm Johnston .... 236-252 
 The Various Languages of Billy Moon . . 236 
 
 Charles Godfrey Leland .... 253-271 
 
 A Musical Duel 253 
 
 Schnitzerl's Philosopcde 262 
 
 Selection from Breitman's Going to Church . 264 
 
 Geor(;k William Cirtis 272-287 
 
 From the Summer Diary of Minerva Tattle 272
 
 WASHINGTON IRVING. 
 
 (born, 1783 — DIED, 1859.) 
 
 WOUTER VAN TWILLER. 
 
 IT was in the year of our Lord 1629 that Myn- 
 heer Wouter Van Twiller was appointed 
 governor of the province of Nieuw Nederlandts, 
 under the commission and control of their High 
 Mightinesses the Lords States General of the 
 United Netherlands, and the privileged West 
 India Company. 
 
 This renowned old gentleman arrived at New 
 Amsterdam in the merry month of June, the 
 sweetest month in all the year; when dan 
 Apollo seems to dance up the transparent 
 firmament, — when the robin, the thrush, and a 
 thousand other wanton songsters, make the 
 woods to resound with amorous ditties, and 
 the luxurious little boblincon revels among- the 
 clover-blossoms of the meadows, — all which 
 happy coincidence persuaded the old dames of 
 New Amsterdam, who were skilled in the art
 
 WASHINGTON IRVING. 
 
 of foretelling events, that this was to be a 
 happy and prosperous administration. 
 
 The renowned Woutcr (or Walter) Van Twil- 
 ler was descended from a long line of Dutch 
 burgomasters, who had successively dozed away 
 their lives, and grown fat upon the bench of 
 magistracy in Rotterdam ; and who had com- 
 ported themselves with such singular wisdom 
 and propriet}', that they were never either 
 heard or talked of — which, next to being uni- 
 versally applauded, should be the object of 
 ambition of all magistrates and rulers. There 
 are two opposite ways by which some men 
 make a figure in the world ; one, by talking 
 faster than they think, and the other, by hold- 
 ing their tongues and not thinking at all. By 
 the first, many a smattcrer acquires the repu- 
 tation of a man of quick parts; by the other, 
 many a dundcrpate, like the owl, the stupidest 
 of birds, comes to be considered the very tj'pe 
 of wisdom. This, by the wa)-, is a casual re- 
 mark, which I would not, for the universe, 
 have it thought I apply to Governor Van Twil- 
 ler. It is true he was a man shut up within 
 himself, like an oyster, and rarely spoke, ex- 
 cept in monosyllables ; but then it was allowed 
 he seldom said a foolish thing. So invincible
 
 WOUTER VAN TWILLER. 
 
 was his gravity that he was never known to 
 laugh or even to smile through the whole 
 course of a long and prosperous life. Nay, if 
 a joke were uttered in his presence, that set 
 light-minded hearers in a roar, it was observed to 
 throw him into a state of perplexity. Some- 
 times he would deign to inquire into the mat- 
 ter, and when, after much explanation, the 
 joke was made as plain as a pike-staff, he 
 would continue to smoke his pipe in silence, 
 and at length, knocking out the ashes, would 
 exclaim, " Well, I see nothing in all that to 
 laugh about." 
 
 With all his reflective habits, he never made 
 up his mind on a subject. His adherents ac- 
 counted for this by the astonishing magnitude 
 of his ideas. He conceived every subject on 
 so grand a scale that he had not room in his 
 head to turn it over and examine both sides of 
 it. Certain it is, that, if any matter were pro- 
 pounded to him on which ordinary mortals 
 would rashly determine at first glance, he would 
 put on a vague, mysterious look, shake his ca- 
 pacious head, smoke some time in profound 
 silence, and at length observe, that " he had 
 his doubts about the matter"; which gained 
 him the reputation of a man slow of belief and
 
 ir.-l SHIA'G TON IK VING. 
 
 not easily imposed upon. What is more, it 
 gained him a lasting name ; for to this habit of 
 the mind has been attributed his surname of 
 Tvviller ; which is said to be a corruption of 
 the original Twijfler, or, in plain English, 
 Doubter. 
 
 The person of this illustrious old gentleman 
 was formed and proportioned as though it had 
 been moulded by the hands of some cunning 
 Dutch statuary, as a model of majesty and 
 lordly grandeur. He was exactly five feet six 
 inches in height, and six feet five inches in cir- 
 cumference. His head was a perfect sphere, 
 and of such stupendous dimensions, that Dame 
 Nature, with all her sex's ingenuity, would 
 have been puzzled to construct a neck capable 
 of supporting it ; wherefore she wisely declined 
 the attempt, and settled it firmly on the top of 
 his backbone, just between the shoulders. His 
 body was oblong, and particularly capacious at 
 bottom ; which was wisely ordered by Provi- 
 dence, seeing that he was a man of sedentary 
 habits, and very averse to the idle labor of 
 walking. His legs were short, but sturdy in 
 proportion to the weight they had to sustain ; 
 so that when erect he had not a little the ap- 
 pearance of a beer barrel on skids. His face,
 
 WOUTER VAN TWILLER. 5 
 
 that infallible index of the mind, presented a 
 vast expanse, unfurrowed by those lines and 
 angles which disfigure the human counte- 
 nance with what is termed expression. Two 
 small gray eyes twinkled feebly in the midst, 
 like two stars of lesser magnitude in a hazy 
 firmament, and his full-fed cheeks, which 
 seemed to have taken toll of every thing that 
 went into his mouth, were curiously mottled 
 and streaked with dusky red, like a spitzenberg 
 apple. 
 
 His habits were as regular as his person. He 
 daily took his four stated meals, appropriating 
 exactly an hour to each ; he smoked and 
 doubted eight hours, and he slept the remain- 
 ing twelve of the four-and-twenty. Such was 
 the renowned Wouter Van Twiller, — a true 
 philosopher, for his mind was either elevated 
 above, or tranquilly settled below, the cares and 
 perplexities of this world. He had lived in it 
 for years, without feeling the least curiosity to 
 know whether the sun revolved round it, or it 
 round the sun ; and he had watched, for at least 
 half a century, the smoke curling from his pipe 
 to the ceiling, without once troubling his head 
 with any of those numerous theories by which 
 a philosopher would have perplexed his brain,
 
 WASHINGTON IRVING. 
 
 in accounting for its rising above the surround- 
 ing atmosphere. 
 
 In his council he presided with great state 
 and solemnity. He sat in a huge chair of solid 
 oak, hewn in the celebrated forest of the Hague, 
 fabricated by an experienced timmerman of 
 Amsterdam, and curiously carved about the 
 arms and feet, into exact imitations of gigantic 
 eagle's claws. Instead of a sceptre, he swayed 
 a long Turkish pipe, wrought with jasmin and 
 amber, which had been presented to a stadt- 
 holder of Holland at the conclusion of a treaty 
 with one of the petty Barbary powers. In this 
 stately chair would he sit, and this magnificent 
 pipe would he smoke, shaking his right knee 
 with a constant motion, and fixing his eye for 
 hours together upon a little print of Amster- 
 dam, which hung in a black frame against the 
 opposite wall of the council-chamber. Nay, it 
 has even been said, that when any deliberation 
 of extraordinary length and intricacy was on 
 the carpet, the renowned Wouter would shut 
 his eyes for full two hours at a time, that he 
 might not be disturbed by external objects; 
 and at such times the internal commotion of 
 his mind was evinced by certain regular gut- 
 tural sounds, which his admirers declared were
 
 WOUTER VAN TWILLER. 
 
 merely the noise of conflict, made by his con- 
 tending doubts and opinions. 
 
 It is with infinite difficulty I have been ena- 
 bled to collect these biographical anecdotes of 
 the great man under consideration. The facts 
 respecting him were so scattered and vague, 
 and divers of them so questionable in point of 
 authenticity, that I have had to give up the 
 search after many, and decline the admission of 
 still more, which would have tended to heighten 
 the coloring of his portrait. 
 
 I have been the more anxious to delineate 
 fully the person and habits of Wouter Van 
 Twiller, from the consideration that he was 
 not only the first, but also the best governor 
 that ever presided over this ancient and respect- 
 able province ; and so tranquil and benevolent 
 was his reign, that I do not find throughout 
 the whole of it a single instance of any offender 
 being brought to punishment, — a most indubi- 
 table sign of a merciful governor, and a case 
 unparalleled, excepting in the reign of the illus- 
 trious King Log, from whom, it is hinted, the 
 renowned Van Twiller was a lineal descendant. 
 
 The very outset of the career of this excellent 
 magistrate was distinguished by an example of 
 legal acumen, that gave flattering presage of a
 
 8 WASHINGTON IRVING. 
 
 wise and equitable administration. The morn- 
 ing after he had been installed in office, and at 
 the moment that he was making his breakfast 
 from a prodigious earthen dish, filled with milk 
 and Indian pudding, he was interrupted by the 
 appearance of Wandle Schoonhoven, a very im- 
 portant old burgher of New Amsterdam, who 
 complained bitterly of one Barcnt Bleecker, 
 inasmuch as he refused to come to a settlement 
 of accounts, seeing that there was a heavy bal- 
 ance in favor of the said Wandle. Governor 
 Van Twiller, as I have already observed, was a 
 man of few words; he was likewise a mortal 
 enemy to multiplying writings — or being dis- 
 turbed at his breakfast. Having listened at- 
 tentively to the statement of Wandle Schoon- 
 hoven, giving an occasional grunt, as he shov- 
 elled a spoonful of Indian pudding into his 
 mouth, — either as a sign that he relished the 
 dish, or comprehended the story, — he called 
 unto him his constable, and pulling out of his 
 breeches pocket a huge jack-knife, dispatched it 
 after the defendant as a summons, accompanied 
 by his tobacco-box as a warrant. 
 
 This summary process was as effectual in 
 those simple days as was the seal-ring of the 
 great Haroun Alraschid among the true believ-
 
 W OUTER VAN TWILLER. 
 
 ers. The two parties being confronted before 
 him, each produced a book of accounts, written 
 in a language and character that would have 
 puzzled any but a High-Dutch commentator, 
 or a learned decipherer of Egyptian obelisks. 
 The sage Wouter took them one after the other, 
 and having poised them in his hands, and at- 
 tentively counted over the number of leaves, 
 fell straightway into a very great doubt, and 
 smoked for half an hour without saying a word ; 
 at length, laying his finger beside his nose, and 
 shutting his eyes for a moment, with the air of 
 a man who has just caught a subtle idea by the 
 tail, he slowly took his pipe from his mouth, 
 puffed forth a column of tobacco-smoke, and 
 with marvellous gravity and solemnity pro- 
 nounced, that, having carefully counted over 
 the leaves and weighed the books, it was found, 
 that one was just as thick and as heavy as the 
 other: therefore, it was the final opinion of the 
 court that the accounts were equally balanced : 
 therefore, Wandle should give Barent a receipt, 
 and Barent should give Wandle a receipt, and 
 the constable should pay the costs. 
 
 This decision, being straightway made known, 
 diffused general joy throughout New Amster- 
 dam, for the people immediately perceived that
 
 lO WASHINGTON IRVING. 
 
 they had a very wise and equitable magistrate 
 to rule over them. But its happiest effect was, 
 that not another lawsuit took place throughout 
 the whole of his administration ; and the office 
 of constable fell into such decay, that there 
 was not one of those losel scouts known in the 
 province for many years. I am the more par- 
 ticular in dwelling on this transaction, not only 
 because I deem it one of the most sage and 
 righteous judgments on record, and well worthy 
 the attention of modern magistrates, but be- 
 cause it was a miraculous event in the history 
 of the renowned Wouter — being the only time 
 he was ever known to come to a decision in the 
 whole course of his life. 
 
 WILHELMUS KIEFT. 
 
 As some sleek ox, sunk in the rich repose of 
 a clover field, dozing and chewing the cud, will 
 bear repeated blows before it raises itself, so the 
 province of Nieuw Nederlandts, having waxed 
 fat under the drowsy reign of the Doubter, 
 needed cuffs and kicks to rouse it into action. 
 The reader will now witness the manner in 
 which a peaceful community advances toward 
 a state of war ; which is apt to be like the ap- 
 proach of a horse to a drum, with much pranc-
 
 WILHELMUS KIEFT. II 
 
 ing and little progress, and too often with the 
 wrong end foremost. 
 
 Wilhelmus Kieft, who in 1634 ascended the 
 gubernatorial chair, (to borrow a favorite though 
 clumsy appellation of modern phraseologists,) 
 was of a lofty descent, his father being inspector 
 of wind-mills in the ancient town of Saardam ; 
 and our hero, we are told, when a boy, made 
 very curious investigations into the nature and 
 operation of these machines, which was one 
 reason why he afterwards came to be so ingen- 
 ious a governor. His name, according to the 
 most authentic etymologists, was a corruption 
 of Kyver, that is to say, a wrangler or scolder, 
 and expressed the characteristic of his family, 
 which, for nearly two centuries, have kept the 
 windy town of Saardam in hot water, and pro- 
 duced more tartars and brimstones than any 
 ten families in the place ; and so truly did he 
 inherit this family peculiarity, that he had 
 not been a year in the government of the prov- 
 ince, before he was universally denominated 
 William the Testy. His appearance answered 
 to his name. He was a brisk, wiry, waspish 
 little old gentleman ; such a one as may now 
 and then be seen stumping about our city in a 
 broad-skirted coat with huge buttons, a cocked
 
 12 WASHINGTON IRVING. 
 
 hat Stuck on the back of his head, and a cane 
 as high as his chin. His face was broad, but 
 his features were sharp ; his cheeks were 
 scorched into a dusky red by two fiery little 
 gray eyes, his nose turned up, and the corners 
 of his mouth turned down, pretty much like 
 the muzzle of an irritable pug-dog. 
 
 I have heard it observed by a profound adept 
 in human physiolog)', that if a woman waxes fat 
 with the progress of years, her tenure of life is 
 somewhat precarious, but if haply she withers 
 as she grows old, she lives forever. Such prom- 
 ised to be the case with William the Testy, 
 who grew tough in proportion as he dried. He 
 had withered, in fact, not through the process 
 of years, but through the tropical fervor of his 
 soul, which burnt like a vehement rush-light in 
 his bosom, inciting him to incessant broils and 
 bickerings. Ancient tradition speaks much of 
 his learning, and of the gallant inroads he had 
 made into the dead languages, in which he had 
 made captive a host of Greek nouns and Latin 
 verbs, and brought off rich booty in ancient 
 saws and apothegms, which he was wont to 
 parade in his public harangues, as a triumphant 
 general of yore his spolia opima. Of meta- 
 physics he knew enough to confound all hearers
 
 WILHELMUS KIEFT. 1 3 
 
 and himself into the bargain. In logic, he 
 knew the whole family of syllogisms and dilem- 
 mas, and was so proud of his skill that he never 
 suffered even a self-evident fact to pass un- 
 argued. It was observed, however, that he 
 seldom got into an argument without getting 
 into a perplexity, and then into a passion with 
 his adversary for not being convinced gratis. 
 
 He had, moreover, skirmished smartly on the 
 frontiers of several of the sciences, was fond of 
 experimental philosophy, and prided himself 
 upon inventions of all kinds. His abode, which 
 he had fixed at a Bowerie or country-seat at a 
 short distance from the city, just at what is now 
 called Dutch Street, soon abounded with proofs 
 of his ingenuity: patent smoke-jacks that re- 
 quired a horse to work them ; Dutch ovens that 
 roasted meat without fire ; carts that went be- 
 fore the horses ; weather-cocks that turned 
 against the wind ; and other wrong-headed 
 contrivances that astonished and confounded 
 all beholders. The house, too, was beset with 
 paralytic cats and dogs, the subjects of his 
 experimental philosophy; and the yelling and 
 yelping of the latter unhappy victims of science, 
 while aiding in the pursuit of knowledge, soon 
 gained for the place the name of " Dog's Misery,"
 
 14 WASHINGTON IRVING. 
 
 by which it continues to be known even at the 
 present day. 
 
 It is in knowledge as in swimming: he who 
 flounders and splashes on the surface makes 
 more noise, and attracts more attention, than 
 the pearl-diver who quietly dives in quest of 
 treasures to the bottom. The vast acquire- 
 ments of the new governor were the theme 
 of marvel among the simple burghers of New 
 Amsterdam ; he figured about the place as 
 learned a man as a Bonze at Pekin, who had 
 mastered one half of the Chinese alphabet, 
 and was unanimously pronounced a " univer- 
 sal genius! "... 
 
 Thus end the authenticated chronicles of the 
 reign of William the Testy; for henceforth, in 
 the troubles, perplexities, and confusion of the 
 times, he seems to have been totally over- 
 looked, and to have slipped forever through 
 the fingers of scrupulous history. . . . 
 
 It is true, that certain of the early provincial 
 poets, of whom there were great numbers in 
 the Nieuw Nedcrlandts, taking advantage of his 
 mysterious exit, have fabled, that, like Romu- 
 lus, he was translated to the skies, and forms a 
 very fiery little star, somewhere on the left 
 claw of the Crab ; while others, equally fanciful,
 
 WILHELMUS KIEFT. I 5 
 
 declare that he had experienced a fate similar 
 to that of the good king Arthur, who, we are 
 assured by ancient bards, was carried away to 
 the delicious abodes of fairy-land, where he 
 still exists in pristine worth and vigor, and will 
 one day or another return to restore the gal- 
 lantry, the honor, and the immaculate probity, 
 which prevailed in the glorious days of the 
 Round Table. 
 
 All these, however, are but pleasing fan- 
 tasies, the cobweb visions of those dreaming 
 varlets, the poets, to which I would not have 
 my judicious readers attach any credibility. 
 Neither am I disposed to credit an ancient and 
 rather apocryphal historian, who asserts that 
 the ingenious Wilhelmus was annihilated by 
 the blowing down of one of his wind-mills; 
 nor a writer of latter times, who af^rms that he 
 fell a victim to an experiment in natural his- 
 tory, having the misfortune to break his neck 
 from a garret-window of the stadthouse in at- 
 tempting to catch swallows by sprinkling salt 
 upon their tails. Still less do I put my faith 
 in the tradition that he perished at sea in con- 
 veying home to Holland a treasure of golden 
 ore, discovered somewhere among the haunted 
 regions of the Catskill mountains.
 
 1 6 WASHINGTON IRVING. 
 
 The most probable account declares, that, 
 what with the constant troubles on his fron- 
 tiers, the incessant schemings and projects 
 going on in his own pericranium, the memori- 
 als, petitions, remonstrances, and sage pieces 
 of advice of respectable meetings of the sov- 
 ereign people, and the refractory disposition of 
 his councillors, who were sure to differ from 
 him on every point, and uniformly to be in the 
 wrong, his mind was kept in a furnace-heat, 
 until he became as completely burnt out as a 
 Dutch family-pipe which has passed through 
 three generations of hard smokers. In this 
 manner did he undergo a kind of animal com- 
 bustion, consuming away like a farthing rush- 
 light ; so that when grim death finally snuffed 
 him out, there was scarce left enough of him 
 to bury. 
 
 PETER STUYVESANT. 
 
 Peter Stuyvesant was the last, and, like the 
 renowned Wouter Van Twiller, the best of our 
 ancient Dutch governors. Wouter having sur- 
 passed all who preceded him, and Peter, or 
 Piet, as he was sociably called by the old 
 Dutch burghers, who were ever prone to famil- 
 iarize names, having never been equalled by
 
 PETER STUYVESANT. 17 
 
 any successor. He was in fact the very man 
 fitted by nature to retrieve the desperate for- 
 tunes of her beloved province, had not the 
 fates, those most potent and unrelenting of all 
 ancient spinsters destined them to inextricable 
 confusion. 
 
 To say merely that he was a hero, would be 
 doing him great injustice ; he was in truth a 
 combination of heroes ; for he was of a sturdy 
 raw-boned make, like Ajax Telamon, with a 
 pair of round shoulders that Hercules would 
 have given his hide for (meaning his lion's 
 hide) when he undertook to ease old Atlas of 
 his load. He was, moreover, as Plutarch de- 
 scribes Coriolanus, not only terrible for the 
 force of his arm, but likewise of his voice, 
 which sounded as though it came out of a bar- 
 rel ; and, like the self-same warrior, he pos- 
 sessed a sovereign contempt for the sovereign 
 people, and an iron aspect, which was enough 
 of itself to make the very bowels of his adver- 
 saries quake with terror and dismay. All this 
 martial excellency of appearance was inex- 
 pressibly heightened by an accidental advan- 
 tage, with which I am surprised that neither 
 Homer nor Virgil have graced any of their 
 heroes. This was nothing less than a wooden
 
 I 8 WASHINGTON IRVING. 
 
 leg, which was the only prize he had gained in 
 bravely fighting the battles of his country, but 
 of which he was so proud, that he was often 
 heard to declare he valued it more than all his 
 other limbs put together; indeed so highly did 
 he esteem it that he had it gallantly enchased 
 and relieved with silver devices, which caused 
 it to be related in divers histories and legends 
 that he wore a silver leg. 
 
 ANTONY VAN CORLEAR. 
 
 The very first movements of the great Peter, 
 on taking the reins of government, displayed 
 his magnanimity, though they occasioned not a 
 little marvel and uneasiness among the people 
 of the Manhattoes. Finding himself constantly 
 interrupted by the opposition, and annoyed by 
 the advice of his privy council, the members of 
 which had acquired the unreasonable habit of 
 thinking and speaking for themselves during 
 the preceding reign, he determined at once to 
 put a stop to such grievous abominations. 
 Scarcely, therefore, had he entered upon his 
 authority, than he turned out of office all the 
 meddlesome spirits of the factious cabinet of 
 William the Testy ; in place of whom he chose 
 unto himself counsellors from those fat, somnif-
 
 ANTONY VAN CORLEAR. I9 
 
 erous, respectable burghers who had flourished 
 and slumbered under the easy reign of Walter 
 the Doubter. All these he caused to be fur- 
 nished with abundance of fair long pipes, and 
 to be regaled with frequent corporation dinners, 
 admonishing them to smoke, and eat, and sleep 
 for the good of the nation, while he took the 
 burden of government upon his own shoulders, 
 — an arrangement to which they all gave hearty 
 acquiescence. 
 
 Nor did he stop here, but made a hideous 
 rout among the inventions and expedients of his 
 learned predecessor, — rooting up his patent gal- 
 lows, where caitiff vagabonds were suspended by 
 the waistband, — demolishing his flag-staffs and 
 wind-mills, which, like mighty giants, guarded 
 the ramparts of New Amsterdam, — pitching 
 to the duyvel whole batteries of quaker guns, 
 — and, in a word, turning topsy-turvy the 
 whole philosophic, economic, and wind-mill 
 system of the immortal sage of Saardam, 
 
 The honest folk of New Amsterdam began to 
 quake now for the fate of their matchless cham- 
 pion, Antony the Trumpeter, who had acquired 
 prodigious favor in the eyes of the women, 
 by means of his whiskers and his trumpet. Him 
 did Peter the Headstrong cause to be brought
 
 20 WASHINGTON IRVING. 
 
 into his presence, and eying him for a moment 
 from head to foot, with a countenance that 
 would have appalled any thing else than a 
 sounder of brass, — " Pr'ythee, who and what 
 art thou ? " said he. "Sire," replied the other, 
 in no wise dismayed, " for my name, it is An- 
 tony Van Corlear ; for my parentage, I am the 
 son of my mother; for my profession, I am 
 champion and garrison of this great city of New 
 Amsterdam." " I doubt me much," said Peter 
 Stuyvesant, " that thou art some scurvy cos- 
 tard-monger knave. How didst thou acquire 
 this paramount honor and dignity? " " Marry, 
 sir," replied the other, " like many a great man 
 before me, ^\xx\^^\y by sounding my own trujnpct." 
 "Ay, is it so?" quoth the governor; "why, 
 then let us have a relish of thy art." Where- 
 upon the good Antony put his instrument to 
 his lips, and sounded a charge with such a tre- 
 mendous outset, such a delectable quaver, and 
 such a triumphant cadence, that it was enough 
 to make one's heart leap out of one's mouth 
 only to be within a mile of it. Like as a war- 
 worn charger, grazing in peaceful plains, starts 
 at a strain of martial music, pricks up his ears, 
 and snorts, and paws, and kindles at the noise, 
 so did the heroic Peter joy to hear the clangor
 
 GENERAL VAN POFFEN BURGH. 21 
 
 of the trumpet ; for of him might truly be said, 
 what was recorded of the renowned St. George 
 of England, " there was nothing in all the world 
 that more rejoiced his heart than to hear the 
 pleasant sound of war, and see the soldiers 
 brandish forth their steeled weapons." Casting 
 his eye more kindly, therefore, upon the sturdy 
 Van Corlear, and finding him to be a jovial 
 varlet, shrewd in his discourse, yet of great dis- 
 cretion and immeasurable wind, he straightway 
 conceived a vast kindness for him, and dis- 
 charging him from the troublesome duty of 
 garrisoning, defending, and alarming the city, 
 ever after retained him about his person, as his 
 chief favorite, confidential envoy, and trusty 
 squire. Instead of disturbing the city with dis- 
 astrous notes, he was instructed to play so as to 
 delight the governor while at his repasts, as did 
 the minstrels of yore in the days of the glorious 
 chivalry, — and on all public occasions to rejoice 
 the ears of the people with warlike melody, — 
 thereby keeping alive a noble and martial 
 
 spirit. 
 
 GENERAL VAN POFFENBURGH. 
 
 It is tropically observed by honest old Soc- 
 rates, that heaven infuses into some men at 
 their birth a portion of intellectual gold, into
 
 22 WASHINGTON IRVING. 
 
 Others of intellectual silver, while others are in- 
 tellectually furnished with iron and brass. Of 
 the last class was General Van Poffenburgh ; 
 and it would seem as if dame Nature, who 
 will sometimes be partial, had given him brass 
 enough for a dozen ordinary braziers. All this 
 he had contrived to pass off upon William the 
 Testy for genuine gold ; and the little governor 
 would sit for hours and listen to his gunpowder 
 stories of exploits, which left those of Tirante 
 the White, Don Belianis of Greece, or St. George 
 and the Dragon quite in the background. Hav- 
 ing been promoted by William Kieft to the 
 command of his whole disposable forces, he 
 gave importance to his station by the grandilo- 
 quence of his bulletins, always styling himself 
 Commander-in-chief of the Armies of the New 
 Netherlands, though in sober truth, these ar- 
 mies were nothing more than a handful of hen- 
 stealing, bottle-bruising ragamuffins. 
 
 In person he was not very tall, but exceed- 
 ingly round ; neither did his bulk proceed from 
 his being fat, but wind)-, being blown up by a 
 prodigious conviction of his own importance, 
 until he resembled one of those bags of wind 
 given by ^Eolus, in an incredible fit of gener- 
 osity, to that vagabond warrior Ulysses. His
 
 GENERAL VAN POFFENbURGH. 2% 
 
 windy endowments had long excited the admi- 
 ration of Antony Van Corlear, who is said to 
 have hinted more than once to WilHam the 
 Testy, that in making Van Poffenburgh a gen- 
 eral he had spoiled an admirable trumpeter. 
 
 As it is the practice in ancient story to give 
 the reader a description of the arms and equip- 
 ments of every noted warrior, I will bestow a 
 word upon the dress of this redoubtable com- 
 mander. It comported with his character, being 
 so crossed and slashed, and embroidered with 
 lace and tinsel, that he seemed to have as much 
 brass without as nature had stored away within. 
 He was swathed, too, in a crimson sash, of the 
 size and texture of a fishing-net, — doubtle--s to 
 keep his swelling heart from bursting through 
 his ribs. His face glowed with furnace-heat 
 from between a huge pair of well-powdered 
 whiskers, and his valorous soul seemed ready to 
 bounce out of a pair of large, glassy, blinking 
 eyes, projecting like those of a lobster. 
 
 I swear to thee, worthy reader, if history 
 and tradition belie not this warrior, I would 
 give all the money in my pocket to have seen 
 him accoutred cap-a-pie, — booted to the middle, 
 sashed to the chin, collared to the ears, whisk- 
 ered to the teeth, crowned with an overshadow-
 
 24 WASHINGTON IRVING. 
 
 ing cocked hat, and girded with a leathern belt 
 ten inches broad, from which trailed a falchion, 
 of a length that I dare not mention. Thus 
 equipped, he strutted about, as bitter-looking a 
 man of war as the far-famed More, of More- 
 hall, when he sallied forth to slay the dragon of 
 Wantley. For what says the ballad ? 
 
 " Had you but seen him in this dress, 
 
 How fierce he looked and how big, 
 You would have thought him for to be 
 
 Some Egyptian porcupig. 
 He frighted all — cats, dogs, and all, 
 
 Each cow, each horse, and each hog ; 
 For fear they did flee, for they took him to be 
 
 Some strange outlandish hedgehog." 
 
 — Knickerbocker s History of New York.
 
 NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 
 
 (born, 1804 — DIED, 1864.) 
 
 DR. HEIDEGGER S EXPERIMENT. 
 
 THAT very singular man, old Dr. Heideg- 
 ger, once invited four venerable friends to 
 meet him in his study. There were three white- 
 bearded gentlemen, Mr. Medbourne, Colonel 
 Killigrew, and Mr. Gascoigne, and a withered 
 gentlewoman, whose name was the Widow Wy- 
 cherly. They were all melancholy old creatures, 
 who had been unfortunate in life, and whose 
 greatest misfortune it was, that they were not 
 long ago in their graves. Mr. Medbourne, in the 
 vigor of his age, had been a prosperous mer- 
 chant, but had lost his all by a frantic specula- 
 tion, and was now little better than a mendicant. 
 Colonel Killigrew had wasted his best years, and 
 his health and substance, in the pursuit of sinful 
 pleasures, which had given birth to a brood of 
 pains, such as the gout, and divers other tor- 
 ments of soul and body. Mr. Gascoigne was a 
 
 25
 
 26 NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 
 
 ruined politician, a man of evil fame, or at least 
 had been so, till time had buried him from the 
 knowledge of the present generation, and made 
 him obscure instead of infamous. As for the 
 Widow Wycherly, tradition tells us that she was 
 a great beauty in her day; but, for a long while 
 past she had lived in deep seclusion, on account of 
 certain scandalous stories, which had prejudiced 
 the gentry of the town against her. It is a cir- 
 cumstance worth mentioning, that each of these 
 three old gentlemen, Mr. Medbourne, Colonel 
 Killigrcw, and Mr. Gascoigne, were early lovers 
 of the Widow Wycherly, and had once been on 
 the point of cutting each other's throats for her 
 sake. And, before proceeding further, I will 
 merely hint that Dr. Heidegger, and all his 
 four guests were sometimes thought to be a 
 little beside themselves ; as is not unfrequently 
 the case with old people, when worried either 
 by present troubles or woful recollections. 
 
 " My dear old friends," said Dr. Heidegger, 
 motioning them to be seated, " I am desirous 
 of your assistance in one of those little experi- 
 ments with which I amuse myself here in my 
 study." 
 
 If all stories were true, Dr. Heidegger's study 
 must have been a ver}' curious place. It was a dim.
 
 DR. HEIDEGGER'S EXPERIMENT. 2/ 
 
 old-fashioned chamber, festooned with cobwebs, 
 and besprinkled with antique dust. Around the 
 walls stood several open bookcases, the lower 
 shelves of which were filled with rows of gigan- 
 tic folios, and black-letter quartos, and the 
 upper with little parchment-covered duodeci- 
 mos. Over the central bookcase was a bronze 
 bust of Hippocrates, with which, according to 
 some authorities. Dr. Heidegger was accus- 
 tomed to hold consultations, in all difficult 
 cases of his practice. In the obscurest corner 
 of the room stood a tall and narrow oaken 
 closet, with its door ajar, within which doubt- 
 fully appeared a skeleton. Between two of 
 the bookcases hung a looking-glass presenting 
 its high and dusty plate within a tarnished gilt 
 frame. Among many wonderful stories related 
 of this mirror, it was fabled that the spirits of 
 all the doctor's deceased patients dwelt within 
 its verge, and would stare him in the face when- 
 ever he looked thitherward. The opposite side 
 of the chamber was ornamented with the full- 
 length portrait of a young lady, arrayed in the 
 faded magnificence of silk, satin, and brocade, 
 and with a visage as faded as her dress. Above 
 half a century ago Dr. Heidegger had been on 
 the point of marriage with this young lady;
 
 28 NA THANIEL HA IVTHORNE. 
 
 but, being affected with some slight disorder, 
 she had swallowed one of her lover's prescrip- 
 tions, and died on the bridal evening. The 
 greatest curiosity of the study remains to be 
 mentioned ; it was a ponderous folio volume, 
 bound in black leather, with massive silver 
 clasps. There were no letters on the back, 
 and nobody could tell the title of the book. 
 But it was well known to be a book of magic ; 
 and once, when a chambermaid had lifted it, 
 merely to brush away the dust, the skeleton 
 had rattled in its closet, the picture of the 
 young lady had stepped one foot upon the 
 floor, and several ghastly faces had peeped 
 forth from the mirror; while the brazen head 
 of Hippocrates frowned, and said — " Forbear! " 
 Such was Dr. Heidegger's study. On the 
 summer afternoon of our tale, a small round 
 table, as black as ebony, stood in the centre of 
 the room, sustaining a cut-glass vase, of beauti- 
 ful form and elaborate workmanship. The 
 sunshine came through the window, between 
 the heavy festoons of two faded damask cur- 
 tains, and fell directly across this vase ; so that 
 a mild splendor was reflected from it on the 
 ashen visages of the five old people who sat 
 around. Four champagne glasses were also on 
 the table.
 
 DR. HEIDEGGER'S EXPERIMENT. 29 
 
 " My dear old friends," repeated Dr. Heideg- 
 ger, " may I reckon on your aid in performing 
 an exceedingly curious experiment ? " 
 
 Now Dr. Heidegger was a very strange old 
 gentleman, whose eccentricity had become the 
 nucleus for a thousand fantastic stories. Some 
 of these fables, to my shame be it spoken, might 
 possibly be traced back to mine own veracious 
 self ; and if any passages of the present tale 
 should startle the reader's faith, I must be con- 
 tent to bear the stigma of a fiction monger. 
 
 When the doctor's four guests heard him 
 talk of his proposed experiment, they antici- 
 pated nothing more wonderful than the murder 
 of a mouse in an air-pump, or the examination 
 of a cobweb by the microscope, or some simi- 
 lar nonsense, with which he was constantly in 
 the habit of pestering his intimates. But with- 
 out waiting for a reply. Dr. Heidegger hobbled 
 across the chamber, and returned with the same 
 ponderous folio, bound in black leather, which 
 common report affirmed to be a book of magic. 
 Undoing the silver clasps, he opened the vol- 
 ume, and took from among its black-letter 
 pages a rose, or what was once a rose, though 
 now the green leaves and crimson petals had 
 assumed one brownish hue, and the ancient
 
 30 NATrlANIEL HAWTHORNE. 
 
 flower seemed ready to crumble to dust in the 
 doctor's hands. 
 
 "This rose," said Dr. Heidegger, with a sigh, 
 " this same withered and crumbhng flower, 
 blossomed five and fifty years ago. It was 
 given me by Sylvia Ward, whose portrait hangs 
 yonder; and I meant to wear it in my bosom 
 at our wedding. Five and fifty years it has 
 been treasured between the leaves of this old 
 volume. Now would you deem it possible that 
 this rose of half a century could ever bloom 
 again ? " 
 
 " Nonsense ! " said the Widow Wycherly, 
 with a peevish toss of her head. "You might 
 as well ask whether an old woman's wrinkled 
 face could ever bloom again." 
 
 " See ! " answered Dr. Heidegger. 
 
 He uncovered the vase, and threw the faded 
 rose into the water which it contained. At 
 first it lay lightly on the surface of the fluid, 
 appearing to imbibe none of its moisture. 
 Soon, however, a singular change began to be 
 visible. The crushed and dried petals stirred, 
 and assumed a deepening tinge of crimson, as 
 if the flower were reviving from a death-like 
 slumber; the slender stalks and twigs of foliage 
 became green ; and there was the rose of half a
 
 DR. HEIDEGGER'S EXPERIMENT. 3 1 
 
 century, looking as fresh as when Sylvia Ward 
 had first given it to her lover. It was scarcely 
 full blown ; for some of its delicate red leaves 
 curled modestly around its moist bosom, within 
 which two or three dewdrops were sparkling. 
 
 " That is certainly a very pretty deception," 
 said the doctor's friends; carelessly, however, 
 for they had witnessed greater miracles at a 
 conjuror's show ; " pray, how was it effec- 
 ted ? " 
 
 " Did you ever hear of the * Fountain of 
 Youth,'" asked Dr. Heidegger, "which Ponce 
 De Leon, the Spanish adventurer, went in 
 search of two or three centuries ago ? " 
 
 " But did Ponce De Leon ever find it? " said 
 the Widow Wycherly. 
 
 " No," answered Dr. Heidegger, " for he 
 never sought it in the right place. The famous 
 Fountain of Youth, if I am rightly informed, is 
 situated in the southern part of the Floridian 
 peninsula, not far from Lake Macaco. Its 
 source is overshadowed by several gigantic 
 magnolias, which, though numberless centuries 
 old, have been kept as fresh as violets, by the 
 virtues of this wonderful water. An acquaint- 
 ance of mine, knowing my curiosity in such 
 matters, has sent me what you see in the vase."
 
 32 NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 
 
 " Ahem ! " said Colonel Killigrew, who be- 
 lieved not a word of the doctor's story ; " and 
 what may be the effect of this fluid on the 
 human frame? " 
 
 "You shall judge for yourself, my dear Colo- 
 nel," replied Dr. Heidegger; "and all of you, 
 my respected friends, are welcome to so much 
 of this admirable fluid as may restore to you 
 the bloom of youth. For my own part, having 
 had much trouble in growing old, I am in no 
 hurry to grow young again. With your per- 
 mission, therefore, I will merely watch the 
 progress of the experiment." 
 
 While he spoke, Dr. Heidegger had been fill- 
 ing the four champagne glasses with the water 
 of the Fountain of Youth. It was apparently 
 impregnated with an effervescent gas, for little 
 bubbles were continually ascending from the 
 depths of the glasses, and bursting in silvery 
 spray at the surface. As the liquor diffused a 
 pleasant perfume, the old people doubted not 
 that it possessed cordial and comfortable prop- 
 erties; and, though utter sceptics as to its re- 
 juvenescent power, they were inclined to 
 swallow it at once. But Dr. Heidegger be- 
 sought them to stay a moment. 
 
 " Before you drink, my respectable old
 
 DR. HEIDEGGER'S EXPERIMENT. 33 
 
 friends," said he, " it would be well that, with 
 the experience of a lifetime to direct you, you 
 should draw up a few general rules for your 
 guidance, in passing a second time through the 
 perils of youth. Think what a sin and shame 
 it would be, if, with your peculiar advantages, 
 you should not become patterns of virtue and 
 wisdom to all the young people of the age ! " 
 
 The doctor's four venerable friends made him 
 no answer, except by a feeble and tremulous 
 laugh ; so very ridiculous was the idea, that, 
 knowing how closely repentance treads behind 
 the steps of error, they should ever go astray 
 again. 
 
 " Drink, then," said the doctor, bowing ; " I 
 rejoice that I have so well selected the subjects 
 of my experiment." 
 
 With palsied hands, they raised the glasses to 
 their lips. The liquor, if it really possessed 
 such virtues as Dr. Heidegger imputed to it, 
 could not have been bestowed on four human 
 beings who needed it more wofully. They 
 looked as if they had never known what youth 
 or pleasure was, but had been the offspring of 
 Nature's dotage, and always the gray, decrepit, 
 sapless, miserable creatures, who now sat stoop- 
 ing around the doctor's table, without life
 
 34 NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 
 
 enough in their souls or bodies to be animated 
 even by the prospect of growing young again. 
 They drank off the water, and replaced their 
 glasses on the table. 
 
 Assuredly there was an almost immediate 
 improvement in the aspect of the party, not 
 unlike what might have been produced by a 
 glass of generous wine together with a sudden 
 glow of cheerful sunshine brightening over all 
 their visages at once. There was a healthful 
 suffusion on their cheeks, instead of the ashen 
 hue that had made them look so corpse-like. 
 They gazed at one another, and fancied that 
 some magic power had really begun to smooth 
 away the deep and sad inscriptions which 
 Father Time had been so long engraving on 
 their brows. The Widow Wychcrly adjusted 
 her cap, for she felt almost like a woman again. 
 
 " Give us more of this wondrous water ! " 
 cried they, eagerly. " We are younger — but 
 we are still too old. Quick — give us more ! " 
 
 " Patience, patience ! " quoth Dr. Heidegger, 
 who sat watching the experiment, with philo- 
 sophic coolness. "You have been a long time 
 growing old. Surely, you might be content to 
 grow young in half an hour ! But the water is 
 at your service."
 
 DR. HEIDEGGER'S EXPERIMENT. 35 
 
 Again he filled their glasses with the liquor 
 of youth, enough of which still remained in the 
 vase to turn half the old people in the city to 
 the age of their own grandchildren. While the 
 bubbles were yet sparkling on the brim, the 
 doctor's four guests snatched their glasses from 
 the table, and swallowed the contents at a sinele 
 
 o 
 
 gulp. Was it delusion ? even while the draught 
 was passing down their throats, it seemed to 
 have wrought a change on their whole systems. 
 Their eyes grew clear and bright ; a dark shade 
 deepened among their silvery locks ; they sat 
 around the table, three gentlemen of middle 
 age, and a woman hardly beyond her buxom 
 prime. 
 
 " My dear widow, you are charming ! " cried 
 Colonel Killigrew, whose eyes had been fixed 
 upon her face, while the shadows of age were 
 flitting from it like darkness from the crimson 
 daybreak. 
 
 The fair widow knew, of old, that Colonel 
 Killigrew's compliments were not always meas- 
 ured by sober truth ; so she started up and ran 
 to the mirror, still dreading that the ugly visage 
 of an old woman would meet her gaze. Mean- 
 while, the three gentlemen behaved in such 
 manner, as proved that the water of the Foun-
 
 36 NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 
 
 tain of Youth possessed some intoxicating 
 qualities ; unless, indeed, their exhilaration of 
 spirits were merely a lightsome dizziness, 
 caused by the sudden removal of the weight 
 of years. Mr, Gascoigne's mind seemed to run 
 on political topics, but whether relating to the 
 past, present, or future, could not easily be de- 
 termined, since the same ideas and phrases have 
 been in vogue these fifty years. Now he rattled 
 forth full-throated sentences about patriotism, 
 national glory, and the people's right ; now he 
 muttered some perilous stuff or other, in a sly 
 and doubtful whisper, so cautiously that even 
 his own conscience could scarcely catch the 
 secret ; and now, again, he spoke in measured 
 accents, and a deeply deferential tone, as if a 
 royal car were listening to his well-turned 
 periods. Colonel Killigrcw all this time had 
 been trolling forth a joll}- bottle song, and 
 ringing his glass in symphony with the chorus, 
 while his eyes wandered toward the buxom 
 figure of the Widow Wycherly. On the other 
 side of the table, Mr. Medbourne was involved 
 in a calculation of dollars and cents, with which 
 was strangely intermingled a project for sup- 
 plying the East Indies with ice, by harnessing a 
 team of whales to the polar icebergs.
 
 DR. HEIDEGGER'S EXPERIMENT. 37 
 
 As for the Widow Wycherly, she stood be- 
 fore the mirror courtesying and simpering to 
 her own image, and greeting it as the friend 
 whom she loved better than all the world be- 
 side. She thrust her face close to the glass, 
 to see whether some long-remembered wrinkle 
 or crow's foot had indeed vanished. She ex- 
 amined whether the snow had so entirely melted 
 from her hair, that the venerable cap could be 
 safely thrown aside. At last, turning briskly 
 away, she came with a sort of dancing step to 
 the table. 
 
 " My dear old doctor," cried she, " pray favor 
 me with another glass ! " 
 
 " Certainly, my dear madam, certainly ! " re- 
 plied the complaisant doctor ; " see ! I have 
 already filled the glasses." 
 
 There, in fact, stood the four glasses, brimful 
 of this wonderful water, the delicate spray of 
 which, as it effervesced from the surface, re- 
 sembled the tremulous glitter of diamonds. 
 It was now so nearly sunset, that the chamber 
 iiad grown duskier than ever ; but a mild and 
 moonlight splendor gleamed from within the 
 vase, and rested alike on the four guests, 
 and on the doctor's venerable figure. He sat 
 in a high-backed, elaborately carved oaken arm-
 
 38 NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 
 
 chair, with a gray dignity of aspect that might 
 have well befitted that very Father Time 
 whose power had never been disputed, save by 
 this fortunate company. Even while quaffing 
 the third draught of the Fountain of Youth 
 they were almost awed by the expression of his 
 mysterious visage. 
 
 But, the next moment, the exhilarating gush 
 of young life shot through their veins. They 
 were now in the happy prime of youth. Age, 
 with its miserable train of cares, and sorrows, 
 and diseases, was remembered only as the 
 trouble of a dream, from which they had joy- 
 ously awoke. The fresh gloss of the soul, so 
 early lost, and without which the world's suc- 
 cessive scenes had been but a gallery of faded 
 pictures, again threw its enchantment over all 
 their prospects. They felt like new-created 
 beings, in a new-created universe. 
 
 "We are young! We are young!" they 
 cried exultingly. 
 
 Youth, hke the extremity of age, had effaced 
 the strongly marked characteristics of middle 
 hfe, and mutually assimilated them all. They 
 were a group of merry youngsters, almost mad- 
 dened with the exuberant frolicsomeness of 
 their years. The most singular effect of their
 
 DR. HEIDEGGER 'S EXPERIMENT. 39 
 
 gayety was an impulse to mock the infirmity 
 and decrepitude of which they had so lately 
 been the victims. They laughed loudly at 
 their old-fashioned attire, the wide-skirted 
 coats and flapped waistcoats of the young 
 men, and the ancient cap and gown of the 
 blooming girl. One limped across the floor 
 like a gouty grandfather ; one set a pair of 
 spectacles astride of his nose, and pretended to 
 pore over the black-letter pages of the book of 
 magic ; a third seated himself in an arm-chair, 
 and strove to imitate the venerable dignity of 
 Dr. Heidegger. Then all shouted mirthfully 
 and leaped about the room. The Widow 
 Wycherly — if so fresh a damsel could be called 
 a widow — tripped up to the doctor's chair, with 
 a mischievous merriment in her rosy face. 
 
 " Doctor, you dear old soul," cried she, " get 
 up and dance with me ! " And then the four 
 young people laughed louder than ever, to 
 think what a queer figure the poor old doctor 
 would cut. 
 
 " Pray excuse me," answered the doctor, 
 quietly. " I am old and rheumatic, and my 
 dancing days were over long ago. But either 
 of these gay young gentlemen will be glad of 
 so pretty a partner."
 
 40 NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 
 
 " Dance with me, Clara," cried Colonel Killi- 
 grew. 
 
 " No, no, I will be her partner ! " shouted 
 Mr. Gascoigne. 
 
 " She promised me her hand fifty years 
 ago ! " exclaimed Mr. Medbourne. 
 
 They all gathered round her. One caught 
 both her hands in his passionate grasp — another 
 threw his arms about her waist — the third buried 
 his hand among the glossy curls that clustered 
 beneath the widow's cap. Blushing, panting, 
 struggling,chiding, laughing, her warm breath fan- 
 ning each of their faces by turns, she strove to dis- 
 engage herself, yet still remained in their triple 
 embrace. Never was there a livelier picture of 
 youthful rivalship, with bewitching beauty for 
 the prize. Yet, by a strange deception, owing 
 to the duskiness of the chamber, and the antique 
 dresses which they still wore, the tall mirror is 
 said to have reflected the figures of the three old, 
 gra)-,witheredgrandsires, ridiculously contending 
 for the skinny ugliness of a shrivelled grandam. 
 
 But they were young: their burning passions 
 proved them so. Inflamed to madness by the 
 coquetry of the girl-widow, who neither granted 
 nor quite withheld her favors, the three rivals 
 began to interchange threatening glances. Still
 
 DR. HEIDEGGER'S EXPERIMENT. 4 1 
 
 keeping hold of the fair prize, they grappled 
 fiercely at one another's throats. As they 
 struggled to and fro, the table was overturned, 
 and the vase dashed into a thousand fragments. 
 The precious Water of Youth flowed in a bright 
 stream across the floor, moistening the wings of 
 a butterfly, which, grown old in the decline of 
 summer, had alighted there to die. The insect 
 fluttered lightly through the chamber, and set- 
 tled on the snowy head of Dr. Heidegger. 
 
 " Come, come, gentlemen ! — come, Madam 
 Wycherly," exclaimed the doctor, " I really 
 must protest against this riot." 
 
 They stood still, and shivered ; for it seemed 
 as if gray Time were calling them back from 
 their sunny youth, far down into the chill and 
 darksome vale of years. They looked at old 
 Dr. Heidegger, who sat in his carved arm-chair, 
 holding the rose of half a century, which he had 
 rescued from among the fragments of the shat- 
 tered vase. At the motion of his hand, the 
 four rioters resumed their seats ; the more 
 readily, because their violent exertions had 
 wearied them, youthful though they were. 
 
 " My poor Sylvia's rose ! " ejaculated Dr. 
 Heidegger, holding it to the light of the sun- 
 set clouds ; " it appears to be fading again."
 
 42 NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 
 
 And so it was. Even while the party were 
 looking at it, the flower continued to shrivel up, 
 till it became as dry and fragile as when the 
 doctor had first thrown it into the vase. He 
 shook off the few drops of moisture which clung 
 to its petals. 
 
 " I love it as well thus, as in its dewy fresh- 
 ness," observed he, pressing the withered rose 
 to his withered lips. While he spoke, the but- 
 terfly fluttered down from the doctor's snowy 
 head, and fell upon the floor. 
 
 His guests shivered again. A strange chilli- 
 ness, whether of the body or spirit they could 
 not tell, was creeping gradually over them all. 
 They gazed at one another, and fancied that 
 each fleeting moment snatched away a charm, 
 and left a deepening furrow where none had 
 been before. Was it an illusion ? Had the 
 changes of a lifetime been crowded into so brief 
 a space, and were they now four aged people, 
 sitting with their old friend. Dr. Heidegger ? 
 
 " Are we grown old again so soon?" cried 
 they, dolefully. 
 
 In truth, they had. The Water of Youth 
 possessed merely a virtue more transient than 
 that of wine. The delirium which it created 
 had effervesced away. Yes ! they were old
 
 THE BRITISH MATRON. 43 
 
 again. With a shuddering impulse, that 
 showed her a woman still, the widow clasped 
 her skinny hands before her face, and wished 
 that the cofifin-lid were over it, since it could be 
 no longer beautiful. 
 
 " Yes, friends, ye are old again," said Dr. 
 Heidegger, " and lo ! the Water of Youth is all 
 lavished on the ground. Well — I bemoan it 
 not ; for if the fountain gushed at my very door- 
 step, I would not stoop to bathe my lips in it — 
 no, though its delirium were for years instead 
 of moments. Such is the lesson you have 
 taught me ! " 
 
 But the doctor's four friends had taught no 
 such lesson to themselves. They resolved 
 forthwith to make a pilgrimage to Florida, 
 and quaff at morning, noon, and night, from 
 the Fountain of Youth. 
 
 — Twice- Told Tales. 
 
 THE BRITISH MATRON. 
 
 I have heard a good deal of the tenacity 
 with which English ladies retain their personal 
 beauty to a late period of life ; but (not to sug- 
 gest that an American eye needs use and culti- 
 vation, before it can quite appreciate the charm 
 of English beauty at any age) it strikes me that
 
 44 XATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 
 
 an English lady of fifty is apt to become a 
 creature less refined and delicate, so far as her 
 physique goes, than any thing that we Western 
 people class under the name of woman. She 
 has an awful ponderosity of frame, not pulpy, 
 like the looser development of our few fat 
 women, but massive with solid beef and streaky 
 tallow ; so that (though struggling manfully 
 against the idea) you inevitably think of her as 
 made up of steaks and sirloins. When she 
 walks, her advance is elephantine. When she 
 sits down it is on a great round space of her 
 Maker's footstool, where she looks as if nothing 
 could ever move her. She imposes awe and 
 respect by the muchness of her personality, to 
 such a degree that you probably credit her with 
 far greater moral and intellectual force than she 
 can fairly claim. Her visage is usually grim 
 and stern, seldom positively forbidding, yet 
 calmly terrible, not merely by its breadth and 
 weight of feature, but because it seems to ex- 
 press so much well-defined self-reliance, such 
 acquaintance with the world, its toils, troubles, 
 and dangers, and such sturdy capacity for 
 trampling down a foe. Without any thing 
 positively salient, or actively offensive, or, in- 
 deed, unjustly formidable to her neighbors, she
 
 THE BRITISH MA TRON. 45 
 
 has the effect of a seventy-four gun-ship in time 
 of peace ; for, while you assure yourself that 
 there is no real danger, you cannot help think- 
 ing how tremendous would be her onset, if 
 pugnaciously inclined, and how futile the effort 
 to inflict any counter-injury. She certainly 
 looks tenfold — nay, a hundred-fold — better able 
 to take care of herself than our slender-framed 
 and haggard womankind ; but I have not found 
 reason to suppose that the English dowager of 
 fifty has actually greater courage, fortitude, and 
 strength of character than our women of similar 
 age, or even a tougher physical endurance than 
 they. Morally, she is strong, I suspect, only in 
 society, and in the common routine of social 
 affairs, and would be found powerless and timid 
 in any exceptional strait that might call for 
 energy outside of the conventionalities amid 
 which she has grown up. 
 
 You can meet this figure in the street, and 
 live, and even smile at the recollection. But 
 conceive of her in a ball-room, with the bare, 
 brawny arms that she invariably displays there, 
 and all the other corresponding development, 
 such as is beautiful in the maiden blossom, but 
 a spectacle to howl at in such an over-blown 
 cabbage-rose as this.
 
 46 XATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. 
 
 Yet, somewhere in this enormous bulk there 
 must be hidden the modest, slender, violet- 
 nature of a girl, whom an alien mass of earthli- 
 ness has unkindly overgrown ; for an English 
 maiden in her teens, though very seldom so 
 pretty as our own damsels, possesses, to say 
 the truth, a certain charm of half-blossom, and 
 delicately folded leaves, and tender woman- 
 hood, shielded by maidenly reserves, with 
 which, somehow or other, our American girls 
 often fail to adorn themselves during an appre- 
 ciable moment. It is a pity that the English 
 violet should grow into such an outrageously 
 developed peony as I have attempted to de- 
 scribe. I wonder whether a middle-aged hus- 
 band ought to be considered as legally married 
 to all the accretions that have overgrown the 
 slenderness of liis bride, since he led her to the 
 altar, and which make licr so much more than 
 he ever bargained for ! Is it not a sounder 
 view of tlic case, that the matrimonial bond 
 cannot be held to include the three fourths of 
 the wife that had no existence when the cere- 
 mony was performed ? And as a matter of 
 conscience and good morals, ought not an 
 English married pair to insist upon the cele- 
 bration of a Silver Wedding at the end of
 
 THE BRITISH MATRON. 47 
 
 twenty-five years in order to legalize and 
 mutually appropriate that corporeal growth of 
 which both parties have individually come into 
 possession since they were pronounced one 
 flesh ? — Our Old Home.
 
 HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. 
 
 (born. iS07 — DIED, 1882.) 
 
 A WRAITH IN THE MIST. 
 
 " Sir, I should build me a fortification, if I came to live 
 here." — BoswEU-'s Johnson. 
 
 ON the green little isle of Inchkcnncth, 
 Who is it that walks by the shore, 
 So gay with his Highland blue bonnet, 
 So brave with his targe and claymore ? 
 
 His form is the form of a giant. 
 
 But his face wears an aspect of pain ; 
 
 Can this be the Laird of Inchkenneth ? 
 Can this be Sir Allan McLean ? 
 
 Ah, no! It is only the Rambler, 
 The Idler, who lives in Bolt Court, 
 
 And who says, were he Laird of Inchkenneth, 
 He would wall himself round with a fort. 
 
 — Birds of Passage.
 
 EDMUND QUINCY. 
 
 (born, 1808 — DIED, 1877.) 
 
 WHO PAID FOR THE PRIMA DONNA? 
 
 IF any thing could make a man forgive 
 himself for being sixty years old," said 
 the Consul, holding up his wineglass between 
 his eye and the setting sun, — for it was sum- 
 mer-time, — " it would be that he can remem- 
 ber Malibran in her divine sixteenity at the 
 Park Theatre, thirty odd years ago. Egad, sir, 
 one could n't help making great allowances 
 for Don Giovanni, after seeing her in Zerlina. 
 She was beyond imagination piqnante and de- 
 licious." 
 
 The Consul, as my readers may have partly 
 inferred, was not a Roman Consul, nor yet a 
 French one. He had had the honor of repre- 
 senting this great republic at one of the Hanse 
 towns, I forget which, in President Monroe's 
 time. I don't recollect how long he held the 
 
 49
 
 50 EDMUND QUINCY. 
 
 office ; but it was long enough to make the 
 title stick to him for the rest of his life with 
 the tenacity of a militia colonelcy or village 
 diaconate. The country people round about 
 used to call him " the Counsel^' which, I be- 
 lieve, — for I am not very fresh from my school- 
 books, — was etymologically correct enough, 
 however orthocpically erroneous. He had not 
 limited his European life, however, within the 
 precinct of his Hanseatic consulship, but had 
 dispersed himself very promiscuously over the 
 Continent, and had seen many cities, and the 
 manners of many men and of some women, — 
 singing-women, I mean, — in their public char- 
 acter; for the Consul, correct of life as of ear, 
 never sought to undeify his divinities by pur- 
 suing them from the heaven of the stage to 
 the purgatorial intermediacy of the coulisses, 
 still less to the lower depth of disenchantment 
 into which too many of them sunk in their pri- 
 vate life. 
 
 " Yes, sir," he went on, " I have seen and 
 heard them all, — Catalani, Pasta, Pezzaroni, 
 Grisi, and all the rest of them, even Sonntag, 
 though not in her very best estate ; but I give 
 you my word there is none that has taken 
 lodgings here," tapping his forehead, " so per-
 
 fVJIO PAID FOR THE PRIMA DONNA ? 5 I 
 
 manently as the Signorina Garcia, or that I can 
 see and hear so distinctly when I am in the 
 mood of it by myself. Rosina, Desdemojia, 
 Cinderella, and, as I said just now, Zerlina — 
 she is as fresh in them all to my mind's eye 
 and ear, as if the Park Theatre had not given 
 way for a cursed shoe-shop, and I had been 
 hearing her there only last night. Let 's drink 
 her memory," the Consul added, half in mirth 
 and half in melancholy, — a mood to which he 
 was not unused, and which did not ill become 
 him. 
 
 Now, no intelligent person who knew the 
 excellence of the Consul's wine could refuse to 
 pay this posthumous honor to the harmonious 
 shade of the lost Muse. The Consul was an 
 old-fashioned man in his tastes, to be sure, and 
 held to the old religion of Madeira, which di- 
 vided the faith of our forefathers with the 
 Cambridge Platform, and had never given in 
 to the later heresies which have crept into the 
 communion of good-fellowship from the south 
 of France and the Rhine. 
 
 " A glass of champagne," he would say, " is 
 all well enough at the end of dinner, just to 
 take the grease out of one's throat, and get the 
 palate ready for the more serious vintages or-
 
 52 EDMUND QUINCY. 
 
 dained for the solid and deliberate drinking by 
 which man justifies his creation ; but Madeira, 
 sir, Madeira is the only standby that never fails 
 a man, and can always be depended upon as 
 something sure and steadfast." 
 
 I confess to having fallen away myself from 
 the gracious doctrine and works to which he 
 had held so fast ; but I am no bigot, — which, 
 for a heretic, is something remarkable, — and 
 had no scruple about uniting with him in the 
 service he proposed, without demur or protes- 
 tation as to form or substance. Indeed, he 
 disarmed fanaticism by the curious care he be- 
 stowed on making his works conformable to the 
 faith that was in him ; for partly by inheritance, 
 and partly by industrious pains, his old house 
 was undermined by a cellar of wine such as is 
 seldom seen in these days of modern degen- 
 eracy. He is the last gentleman that I know 
 of, of that old school that used to import wine 
 and lay it down annually themselves, their 
 bins forming a kind of vinous calendar sug- 
 gestive of great events. Their degenerate 
 sons are content to be furnished, as they 
 want it, from the dubious stores of the vintner, 
 by retail. 
 
 " I suppose it was her youth and beauty, sir,"
 
 WHO PAID FOR THE PRIMA DONNA? 53 
 
 I suggested, " that made her so rememberable 
 to you. You know she was barely turned sev- 
 enteen when she sung in this country." 
 
 " Partly that, no doubt," replied the Consul, 
 " but not altogether, nor chiefly. No, sir ; it 
 was her genius which made her beauty so glo- 
 rious. She was wonderfully handsome, though. 
 * She was a phantom of delight,' as that Lake 
 fellow says," — it was thus profanely that the 
 Consul designated the poet Wordsworth, whom 
 he could not abide, — " and the best thing he 
 ever said, by Jove ! " 
 
 "And did you never see her again?" I in- 
 quired. 
 
 " Once, only," he answered, " eight or nine 
 years afterwards, a year or two before she died. 
 It was at Venice, and in Norma. She was dif- 
 ferent, and yet not changed for the worse. 
 There was an indescribable look of sadness out 
 of her eyes, that touched one oddly, and fixed 
 itself in the memory. But she was something 
 apart and by herself, and stamped herself on 
 one's mind as Rachel did in Caniille or Phedre. 
 It was true genius, and no imitation, that made 
 both of them what they were. But she actually 
 had the physical beauty which Rachel only 
 compelled you to think she had, by the force
 
 54 EDMUND QUINCY. 
 
 of her genius and consummate dramatic skill, 
 while she was on the scene before you." 
 
 " But do you rank Malibran with Rachel as a 
 dramatic artist ? " I asked. 
 
 " I cannot tell," he answered. " But if she 
 had not the studied perfection of Rachel, — 
 which was always the same, and could not be 
 altered without harm, — she had at least a ca- 
 pacity of impulsive self-adaptation about her 
 which made her for the time the character she 
 personated, — not always the same, but such as 
 the woman she represented might have been in 
 the shifting phases of the passion that possessed 
 her. And to think that she died at eight and 
 twenty ! What might not ten years more have 
 made her ! " 
 
 "It is odd," I observed, "that her fame 
 should be forever connected with the name she 
 got by her first unlucky marriage in New York ; 
 for it was unlucky enough, I believe — was it 
 not ? " 
 
 "You may say that," responded the Consul, 
 " without fear of denial or qualification. It was 
 disgraceful in its beginning and in its ending. 
 It was a swindle on a large scale ; and poor 
 Maria Garcia was the one who suffered the most 
 by the operation."
 
 WHO PAID FOR THE PRIMA DONNA? 55 
 
 "I have always heard," said I, "that old 
 Garcia was cheated out of the price for which 
 he had sold his daughter, and that M. Malibran 
 got his wife on false pretences." 
 
 " Not altogether so," returned the Consul, 
 " I happen to know all about that matter from 
 the best authority. She was obtained on false 
 pretences, to be sure ; but it was not Garcia 
 that suffered by them. M. Malibran, more- 
 over, never paid the price agreed upon, and yet 
 Garcia got it, for all that." 
 
 " Indeed ! " I exclaimed. " It must have 
 been a neat operation. I cannot exactly see 
 how the thing was done ; but I have no doubt 
 a tale hangs thereby, and a good one. Is it 
 tellable ? " 
 
 " I see no reason why not," said the Consul. 
 " The sufferer made no secret of it, and I know 
 of no reason why I should. Mynheer Van Hol- 
 land told me the story himself, in Amsterdam, 
 in the year '35." 
 
 " And who was he ? " I inquired, " and what 
 had he to do with it ? " 
 
 " I '11 tell you," responded the Consul, filling 
 his glass, and passing the bottle, " if you will 
 have the goodness to shut the window behind 
 you, and ring for candles ; for it gets chilly
 
 $6 EDMUND QUINCY. 
 
 here among the mountains as soon as the sun is 
 down." 
 
 I beg your pardon — did you make a remark ? 
 Oh, wJiat moimtains ! — You must really pardon 
 me ; I cannot give you such a clow as that to 
 the identity of my dear Consul, just now, for 
 excellent and sufficient reasons. But, if you 
 have paid your money for the sight of this 
 Number, you may take your choice of all the 
 mountain-ranges on the continent, from the 
 Rocky to the White, and settle him just where 
 you like. Only you must leave a gap to the 
 westward, through which the river — also anony- 
 mous for the present distress — breaks its way, 
 and which gives him half an hour's more sun- 
 shine than he would otherwise be entitled to, 
 and slope the fields down to its margin near a 
 mile off, with their native timber thinned so 
 skilfully as to have the effect of the best land- 
 scape-gardening. It is a grand and lovely 
 scene ; and when I look at it, I do not wonder 
 at one of the Consul's apothegms, namely, that 
 the chief advantage of foreign travel is, that it 
 teaches you that one place is just as good to 
 live in as another. I imagine that the one 
 place he had in his mind at the time was just 
 this one. But that is neither here nor there.
 
 WHO PAID FOR THE PRIMA DONNA f $7 
 
 When candles came, we drew our chairs to- 
 gether, and he told me in substance the follow- 
 ing story. I will tell it in my own words, — not 
 that they are so good as his, but because they 
 come more readily to the nib of my pen. 
 
 II. 
 
 New York has grown considerably since she 
 was New Amsterdam, and has almost forgotten 
 her whilom dependence on her first godmother. 
 Indeed, had it not been for the historic industry 
 of the erudite Diedrich Knickerbocker, very 
 few of her sons would know much about the 
 obhgations of their nursing mother to their 
 old grandame beyond sea, in the days of the 
 Dutch dynasty. Still, though the old monopoly 
 has been dead these two hundred years, or 
 thereabout, there is I know not how many fold 
 more trafific with her than in the days when it 
 was in full life and force. Doth not that bene- 
 factor of his species, Mr. Udolpho Wolfe, derive 
 thence his immortal or immortalizing Schiedam 
 Schnapps, the virtues whereof, according to his 
 advertisements, are fast transferring dram- 
 drinking from the domain of pleasure to that of 
 positive duty? Tobacco-pipes, too, and toys 
 such as the friendly saint, whom Protestant
 
 58 EDMUND QUINCY. 
 
 children have been taught by Dutch tradition 
 to invoke, dehghts to drop into the votive 
 stocking, — they come from the mother-city, 
 where she sits upon the waters, quite as much 
 a Sea-Cybele as Venice herself. And linens, too, 
 fair and fresh and pure as the maidens that 
 weave them, come forth from Dutch looms 
 ready to grace our tables, or to deck our beds. 
 And the mention of these brings me back to my 
 story, though the immediate connection be- 
 tween Holland linen and Malibran's marriage 
 may not at first view be palpable to sight. 
 Still it is a fact that the web of this part of her 
 variegated destiny was spun and woven out of 
 threads of flax that took the substantial shape 
 of fine Hollands ; and this is the way in which 
 it came to pass. 
 
 Mynheer Van Holland, of whom the Consul 
 spoke just now, you must understand to have 
 been one of the chief merchants of Amsterdam, 
 a city whose merchants are princes, and have 
 been kings. His transactions extended to all 
 parts of the Old World, and did not skip over 
 the New. His ships visited the harbor of New 
 York as well as of London ; and, as he died 
 two or three years ago a very rich man, his 
 adventures in general must have been more re-
 
 WHO PAID FOR THE PRIMA DONNA ? 59 
 
 munerative than the one I am going to relate. 
 In the autumn of the year 1825 it seemed good 
 to this worthy merchant to despatch a vessel, 
 with a cargo chiefly made up of linens, to the 
 market of New York. The honest man little 
 dreamed with what a fate his ship was fraught, 
 wrapped up in those flaxen folds. He hap- 
 pened to be in London the winter before, and 
 was present at the d^but of Maria Garcia at the 
 King's Theatre. He must have admired the 
 beauty, grace, and promise of the youthful 
 Rosina, had he been ten times a Dutchman ; 
 and if he heard of her intended emigration to 
 America, as he possibly might have done, it 
 most likely excited no particular emotion in 
 his phlegmatic bosom. He could not have 
 imagined that the exportation of a little sing- 
 ing-girl to New York should interfere with a 
 potential venture of his own in fair linen. The 
 gods kindly hid the future from his eyes, so 
 that he might enjoy the comic vexation her 
 lively sallies caused to Doctor Bartolo in the 
 play, unknowing that she would be the inno- 
 cent cause of a more serious provocation to 
 himself in downright earnest. He thought of 
 this himself after it had all happened. 
 
 Well, the good ship " Steenbok " had pros-
 
 6o EDMUND QUINCY. 
 
 perous gales and fair weather across the ocean, 
 and dropped anchor off the Battery with some 
 days to spare from the amount due to the voy- 
 age. The consignee came off and took posses- 
 sion of the cargo, and duly transferred it to his 
 own warehouse. Though the advantages of 
 advertising were not as fully understood in 
 those days of comparative ignorance as they 
 have been since, he duly announced the goods 
 which he had received, and waited for a cus- 
 tomer. He did not have to wait long. It was 
 but a day or two after the appearance of the 
 advertisement in the newspapers that he had 
 prime Holland linens on hand, just received 
 from Amsterdam, when he was waited upon by 
 a gentleman of good address, and evidently of 
 French extraction, who inquired of the con- 
 signee, whom we will call Mr. Schulemberg for 
 the nonce, " whether he had the linens he had 
 advertised yet on hand." 
 
 " They are still on hand and on sale," said 
 Mr. Schulemberg. 
 
 " What is the price of the entire consign 
 ment ? " inquired the customer. 
 
 " Fifty thousand dollars," responded Mr. 
 Schulemberg. 
 
 "And the terms?"
 
 WHO PAID FOR THE PRIMA DONNA? 6 1 
 
 " Cash on delivery." 
 
 " Very good," replied the obliging buyer. 
 " If they be of the quality you describe in your 
 advertisement, I will take them on those terms. 
 Send them down to my warehouse, No. Ii8 
 Pearl Street, to-morrow morning, and I will 
 send you the money." 
 
 "And your name ?" inquired Mr. Schulem- 
 berg. 
 
 " Is Malibran," responded the courteous pur- 
 chaser. 
 
 The two merchants bowed politely, the one 
 to the other, mutually well pleased with the 
 morning's word, and bade each other good- 
 day. 
 
 Mr. Schulemberg knew but little, if any 
 thing, about his new customer ; but, as the 
 transaction was to be a cash one, he did not 
 mind that. He calculated his commissions, gave 
 orders to his head clerk to see the goods duly 
 delivered the next morning, and went on 
 Change, and thence to dinner, in the enjoy- 
 ment of a complacent mind and a good appe- 
 tite. It is to be supposed that M. Malibran 
 did the same. At any rate, he had the most 
 reason, at least, according to his probable no- 
 tions of mercantile morality and success.
 
 62 EDMUND QUINCY. 
 
 III. 
 
 The next day came, and with it came, be- 
 times, the packages of linens to M. MaUbran's 
 warehouse in Pearl Street ; but the price for 
 the same did not come as punctually to Mr. 
 Schulcmberg's counting-room, according to the 
 contract under which they were delivered. In 
 point of fact, M. Malibran was not in at the 
 time ; but there was no doubt that he would 
 attend to the matter without delay, as soon as 
 he came in. A cash transaction docs not 
 necessarily imply so much the instant pres- 
 ence of coin as the unequivocal absence of 
 credit. A day or two more or less is of no 
 material consequence, only there is to be no 
 delay for sales and returns before payment. 
 So Mr. Schulemberg gave himself no uneasi- 
 ness about the matter when two, three, and 
 even five and six days had slid away without 
 producing the apparition of the current money 
 of the merchant. A man who transacted af- 
 fairs on so large a scale as M. Malibran, and 
 conducted them on the sound basis of ready 
 money, might safely be trusted for so short a 
 time. But when a week had elapsed, and no 
 tidings had been received either of purchaser 
 or of purchase-money, Mr. Schulemberg
 
 WHO PAID FOR THE PRIMA DONNA ? 63 
 
 thought it time for himself to interfere in his 
 own proper person. Accordingly, he inconti- 
 nently proceeded to the counting-house of M. 
 Malibran to receive the promised price or to 
 know the reason why. If he failed to obtain 
 the one satisfaction, he at least could not com- 
 plain of being disappointed of the other. Mat- 
 ters seemed to be in some little unbusiness-like 
 confusion, and the clerks in a high state of 
 gleeful excitement. Addressing himself to the 
 chief among them, Mr. Schulemberg asked the 
 pertinent question, — 
 
 " Is M. Malibran in ? " 
 
 " No, sir," was the answer, " he is not ; and 
 he will not be, just at present." 
 
 "But when will he be in? for I must see 
 him on some pressing business of importance." 
 
 " Not to-day, sir," replied the clerk, smiling 
 expressively. " He cannot be interrupted to- 
 day on any business of any kind whatever." 
 
 " The deuce he can't ! " returned Mr. Schul- 
 emberg. " I '11 see about that very soon, I 
 can tell you. He promised to pay me cash for 
 fifty thousand dollars' worth of Holland linens 
 a week ago. I have not seen the color of his 
 money yet, and I mean to wait no longer. 
 Where does he live ? for, if he be alive, I will
 
 64 EDMUND QUINCY. 
 
 see him, and hear what he has to say for him- 
 self, and that speedily." 
 
 " Indeed, sir," pleasantly expostulated the 
 clerk, " I think, when you understand the circum- 
 stances of the case, you will forbear disturbing 
 M. Malibran this day of all others in his life." 
 
 " Why, what the devil ails this day above all 
 others," said Mr. Schulemberg somewhat test- 
 ily, " that he can't see his creditors, and pay 
 his debts on it? " 
 
 " Why, sir, the fact is," the clerk replied, 
 with an air of interest and importance, " it is 
 M. Malibran's wedding-day. Me marries this 
 morning the Signorina Garcia, and I am sure 
 you would not molest him with business on 
 such an occasion as that." 
 
 " But my fifty thousand dollars ! " persisted 
 the consignee. " And why have they not been 
 paid ? " 
 
 "Oh, give yourself no uneasiness at all about 
 that, sir," replied the clerk, with the air of one 
 to whom the handling of such trifles was a 
 daily occurrence. " M. Malibran will, of course, 
 attend to that matter the moment he is a 
 little at leisure. In fact, I imagine, that, in the 
 hurry and bustle inseparable from an event of 
 this nature, the circumstance has entirely es-
 
 IVIIO PAID FOR THE PRIMA DONNA ? 65 
 
 caped his mind ; but, as soon as he returns to 
 business again, I will recall it to his recollec- 
 tion, and you will hear from him without 
 delay." 
 
 The clerk was right in his augury as to the 
 effect his intelligence would have upon the 
 creditor. It was not a clerical error on his part 
 when he supposed that Mr. Schulemberg would 
 not choose to enact the part of skeleton at the 
 wedding-breakfast of the young Prima Don7ia. 
 There is something about the great events of 
 life, which cannot happen a great many times 
 to anybody, — 
 
 " A wedding or a funeral, 
 A mourning or a festival," 
 
 that touches the strings of the one human 
 heart of us ail, and makes it return no uncer- 
 tain sound. Shylock himself would hardly have 
 demanded his pound of flesh on the wedding- 
 day, had it been Ajitonio that was to espouse 
 the fair Portia. Even he would have allowed 
 three days of grace before demanding the 
 specific performance of his bond. Now, Mr. 
 Schulemberg was very far from being a Shy- 
 lock, and he was also a constant attendant 
 upon the opera, and a devoted admirer of the
 
 66 EDMUND QUINCY. 
 
 lovely Garcia. So that he could not wonder 
 that a man on the eve of marriage with that 
 divine creature should forget every other con- 
 sideration in the immediate contemplation of 
 his happiness, even if it were the consideration 
 for a cargo of prime linens, and one to the tune 
 of fifty thousand dollars. And it is altogether 
 likely that the mundane reflection occurred to 
 him, and made him easier in his mind under 
 the delay, that old Garcia was by no means the 
 kind of man to give away a daughter who 
 dropped gold and silver from her sweet lips 
 whenever she opened them in public, as the 
 princess in the fairy-tale did pearls and dia- 
 monds, to any man who could not give him a 
 solid equivalent in return. So that, in fact, he 
 regarded the notes of the Signorina Garcia ai 
 so much collateral security for his debt. 
 
 So Mr. Schulcmbcrg was content to bide his 
 reasonable time for the discharge of M. Mali, 
 bran's indebtedness to his principal. lie had 
 advised Mynheer Van Holland of the speedy 
 sale of his consignment, and given him hopes 
 of a quick return of the proceeds. But, as days 
 wore away, it seemed to him that the time he 
 was called on to bide was growing into an un- 
 reasonable one. I cannot state with precision
 
 WHO PAID FOR THE PRIMA DONNA ? 6"/ 
 
 exactly how long he waited. Whether he dis- 
 turbed the sweet influences of the honeymoon 
 by his intrusive presence, or permitted that 
 nectareous satellite to fill her horns, and wax 
 and wane in peace, before he sought to bring 
 the bridegroom down to the things of earth, 
 are questions which I must leave to the discre- 
 tion of my readers to settle, each for himself or 
 herself, according to their own notions of the 
 proprieties of the case. But at the proper time, 
 after patience had thrown up in disgust the 
 office of a virtue, he took his hat and cane one 
 fine morning, and walked down to No. ii8 
 Pearl Street, for the double purpose of wishing 
 M. Malibran joy of his marriage, and of receiv- 
 ing the price — promised long, and long withheld 
 — of the linens which form the tissue of my story. 
 
 " The gods gave ear, and granted half his prayer : 
 The rest the winds dispersed in empty air." 
 
 There was not the slightest difficulty about his 
 imparting his epithalamic congratulation ; but 
 as to his receiving the numismatic consideration 
 for which he hoped to return, that was an en- 
 tirely different affair. He found matters in the 
 Pearl Street counting-house again apparently 
 something out of joint, but with a less smiling
 
 68 EDMUND QUINCY. 
 
 and sunny atmosphere pervading them than he 
 had remarked on his last visit. He was received 
 by M. Mahbran with courtesy, a Httle over- 
 strained, perhaps, and not as flowing and 
 gracious as at their first interview, Prehmi- 
 naries over, Mr. Schulemberg, plunging with 
 epic energy into the midst of things, said, " I 
 have called, M. Malibran, to receive the fifty 
 thousand dollars, which, you will remember, 
 you engaged to pay down for the linens I sold 
 you on such a day. I can make allowance for 
 the interruption which has prevented your at 
 tending to this business sooner ; but it is nov^ 
 high time that it was settled." 
 
 " I consent to it all, monsieur," replied M 
 Malibran with a deprecatory gesture. " You 
 have reason, and I am desolated that it is thtf 
 impossible that you ask of me to do." 
 
 " How, sir ! " demanded the creditor. " What 
 do you mean by the impossible ? You do not 
 mean to deny that you agreed to pay cash for 
 the goods? " 
 
 " My faith, no, monsieur," shruggingly re- 
 sponded M. Malibran. " I avow it ; you have 
 reason ; I promised to pay the money, as you 
 say it ; but, if I have not the money to pay you, 
 how can I pay you the money ? What to do ? "
 
 fVJ/O PAID FOR THE PRIMA DONNA ? 69 
 
 *' I don't understand you, sir," returned Mr. 
 Schulemberg. "You have not the money? 
 And you do not mean to pay me according to 
 agreement ? " 
 
 " But, monsieur, how can I, when I have not 
 money ? Have you not heard that I have made 
 — what you call it? — failure, yesterday? I am 
 grieved of it thrice sensibly ; but if it went of 
 my life, I could not pay you for your fine 
 linens, which were of a good market at the 
 price. 
 
 " Indeed, sir," replied Mr. Schulemberg, " I 
 had not heard of your misfortunes; and I am 
 heartily sorry for them, on my own account and 
 yours, but still more on account of your charm- 
 ing wife. But there is no great harm done, 
 after all. Send the linens back to me, and ac- 
 counts shall be square between us, and I will 
 submit to the loss of the interest." 
 
 "Ah, but, monsieur, you are too good, and 
 madame will be recognizant to you forever for 
 your gracious politeness. But, my God ! it is 
 impossible that I return to you the linen. I 
 have sold it, monsieur — I have sold it all ! " 
 
 " Sold it ? " reiterated Mr. Schulemberg, re- 
 gardless of the rules of etiquette, — "sold it? 
 And to whom, pray ? and when ? "
 
 70 EDMUND QUINCY. 
 
 " To M. Garcia, my fathcr-in-the-la\v," an- 
 swered the catechumen blandly ; " and it is 
 a week that he has received it," 
 
 " Then I must bid you a good-morning, sir," 
 said Mr. Schulemberg, rising hastily, and col- 
 lecting his hat and gloves; " for I must lose no 
 time in taking measures to recover the goods 
 before they have changed hands again." 
 
 " Pardon, monsieur," interrupted the poor 
 but honest Malibran. " But it is too late ! 
 One cannot regain them. M. Garcia embarked 
 himself for Mexico }'esterday morning, and car- 
 ried them all with him." 
 
 Imagine the consternation and rage of poor 
 Mr. Schulemberg at finding that he was sold, 
 though the goods were not ! I decline report- 
 ing the conversation any further, lest its 
 strength of expression and force of expletive 
 might be too much for the more queasy of my 
 readers. Suffice it to say that the sii.nndlce, if 
 I may be allowed the royalty of coining a word, 
 at once freed his own mind, and imprisoned the 
 body of M. Malibran ; for in those days impris- 
 onment for debt was a recognized institution, 
 and I think few of its strongest opponents will 
 deny that this was a case to which it was no 
 abuse to apply it.
 
 lVI/0 PAID FOR THE PRIMA DONNA f 71 
 
 IV. 
 I regret that I am compelled to leave this 
 exemplary merchant in captivity ; but the exi- 
 gencies of my story, the moral of which beckons 
 me away to the distant coast of Mexico, require 
 it at my hands. The reader may be consoled, 
 however, by the knowledge that he obtained his 
 liberation in due time, his Dutch creditor being 
 entirely satisfied that nothing whatsoever could 
 be squeezed out of him by passing him between 
 the bars of the debtor's prison, though that was 
 all the satisfaction he ever did get. How he 
 accompanied his young wife to Europe, and 
 there lived by the coining of her voice into 
 drachmas, as her father had done before him, 
 needs not be told here ; nor yet how she was di- 
 vorced from him, and made another matrimonial 
 
 venture in partnership with De B . I have 
 
 nothing to do with him or her, after the bargain 
 and sale of which she was the object, and the 
 consequences which immediately resulted from 
 it ; and here, accordingly, I take my leave of 
 them. But my story is not quite done yet : it 
 must now pursue the fortunes of the enterpris- 
 ing impresario, Signer Garcia, who had so deftly 
 turned his daughter into a shipload of fine 
 linens.
 
 EDMUND QUINCY. 
 
 This excellent person sailed, as M. Malibran 
 told Mr. Schulcmberg, for Vera Cruz, with an 
 assorted cargo, consisting of singers, fiddlers, 
 and, as aforesaid, of Mynheer Van Holland's 
 fine linens. The voyage was as prosperous as 
 was due to such an argosy. If a single Am- 
 phion could not be drowned by the utmost 
 malice of gods and men, so long as he kept his 
 voice in order, what possible mishap could be- 
 fall a whole shipload of them ? The vessel ar- 
 rived safely under the shadow of San Juan de 
 Ulua ; and her precious freight in all its varie- 
 ties was welcomed with a tropical enthusiasm. 
 The market was bare of linen and of song, and 
 it was hard to say which found the readiest sale. 
 Competition raised the price of both articles to 
 a fabulous height. So the good Garcia had the 
 benevolent satisfaction of clothing the naked, 
 and making the ears that heard him to bless 
 him at the same time. After selling his linens 
 at a great advance on the cost-price, consider- 
 ing he had only paid his daughter for them, 
 and having given a series of the most successful 
 concerts ever known in those latitudes, Signor 
 Garcia set forth for the Aztec City. As the 
 relations of mcum and iuuin were not upon the 
 most satisfactory' footing just then at Vera
 
 WHO PAID FOR THE PRIMA DONNA ? 73 
 
 Cruz, he thought it most prudent to carry his 
 well-won treasure with him to the capital. His 
 progress thither was a triumphal procession. 
 Not Cortes, not General Scott himself, marched 
 more gloriously along the steep and rugged 
 road that leads from the sea-coast to the table- 
 land than did this son of song. Every city on 
 his line of march was the monument of a vic- 
 tor>', and from each one he levied tribute, and 
 bore spoils away. And the vanquished thanked 
 him for this spoiling of their goods. 
 
 Arrived at the splendid city, at that time the 
 largest and most populous on the North Ameri- 
 can continent, he speedily made himself master 
 of it, — a welcome conqueror. The Mexicans, 
 with the genuine love for song of their South- 
 ern ancestors, had had but few opportunities 
 for gratifying it such as that now offered to 
 them. Garcia was a tenor of great compass, 
 and a most skilful and accomplished singer. 
 The artists who accompanied him were of a 
 high order of merit, if not of the very first class. 
 Mexico had never heard the like, and, though 
 a hard-money country, was glad to take their 
 notes, and give them gold in return. They 
 were feasted and flattered in the intervals of 
 the concerts, and the bright eyes of senoras and
 
 74 EDMUND QUINCY. 
 
 sefioritas rained influence upon them on the off 
 nights, as their fair hands rained flowers upon 
 the on ones. And they have a very pleasant 
 way, in those golden realms, of giving orna- 
 ments of diamonds and other precious stones 
 to virtuous singers, as we give pencil-cases and 
 gold watches to meritorious railway-conductors 
 and hotel-clerks, as a testimonial of the sense 
 we entertain of their private characters and 
 public services. The gorgeous East herself 
 never showered " on her kings barbaric pearl 
 and gold " with a richer hand than the City of 
 Mexico poured out the glittering rain over the 
 portly person of the happy Garcia. Saturated 
 at length with the golden flood and its foam of 
 pearl and diamond — if, indeed, singer were ever 
 capable of such saturation, and were not rather 
 permeable forever, like a sieve of the Danaides, 
 — saturated, or satisfied that it was all run out, 
 he prepared to take up his line of march back 
 again to the City of the True Cross. Mexico 
 mourned over his going, and sent him forth 
 upon his way with blessings, and prayers for his 
 safe return. 
 
 But alas ! the blessings and the prayers were 
 alike vain. The saints were either deaf or busy, 
 or had gone a journey, and either did not hear
 
 WJIO PA ID FOR THE PRIMA DONNA ? 75 
 
 or did not mind the vows that were sent up to 
 them. At any rate, they did not take that care 
 of the worthy Garcia which their devotees had 
 a right to expect of them. Turning his back 
 on the halls of the Montezumas, where he had 
 revelled so sumptuously, he proceeded on his 
 way towards the Atlantic coast, as fast as his 
 mules thought fit to carry him and his beloved 
 treasure. With the proceeds of his linens and 
 his lungs, he was rich enough to retire from the 
 vicissitudes of operatic life to some safe retreat 
 in his native Spain or his adoptive Italy. Filled 
 with happy imaginings, he fared onward, the 
 bells of his mules keeping time with the melo- 
 dious joy of his heart, until he had descended 
 from the tierra caliente to the wilder region on 
 the hither side of Jalapa. As the narrow road 
 turned sharply, at the foot of a steeper descent 
 than common, into a dreary valley, made yet 
 more gloomy by the shadow of the hill behind 
 intercepting the sun, though the afternoon was 
 not far advanced, the impresario was made un- 
 pleasantly aware of the transitory nature of 
 man's hopes and the vanity of his joys. When 
 his train wound into the rough open space, it 
 found itself surrounded by a troop of men 
 whose looks and gestures bespoke their func-
 
 76 EDMUND QUINCY. 
 
 tion without the intermediation of an inter- 
 preter. But no interpreter was needed in this 
 case, as Signor Garcia was a Spaniard by birth, 
 and their expressive pantomime was a suffi- 
 ciently eloquent substitute for speech. In plain 
 English, he had fallen among thieves, with very 
 little chance of any good Samaritan coming by 
 to help him. 
 
 Now, Signor Garcia had had dealings with 
 brigands and banditti all his operatic life. In- 
 deed, he had often drilled them till they were 
 perfect in their exercises, and got them up re- 
 gardless of expense. Under his direction they 
 had often rushed forward to the footlights, 
 pouring into the helpless mass before them re- 
 peated volleys of explosive crotchets. But this 
 was a very different chorus that now saluted 
 his eyes. It was the real thing, instead of the 
 make-believe, and in the opinion of Signor 
 Garcia, at least, very much inferior to it. In- 
 stead of the steeple-crowned hat, jauntily feath- 
 ered and looped, these irregulars wore huge 
 sombreros, much the worse for time and weather, 
 flapped over their faces. For the velvet jacket 
 with the two-inch tail, which had nearly broken 
 up the friendship between Mr. Pickwick and 
 Mr. Tupman, when the latter gentleman pro-
 
 WHO PAID FOR THE PRIMA DONNA ? 77 
 
 posed induing himself with one, on the occasion 
 of Mrs. Leo Hunter's fancy-dress breakfast, — 
 for this integument, I say, these minions of 
 the moon had blankets round their shoulders, 
 thrown back in preparation for actual service. 
 Instead of those authentic cross-garterings in 
 which your true bandit rejoices, like a new 
 Malvolio, to tie up his legs, perhaps to keep 
 them from running away, these false knaves 
 wore, some of them, ragged boots up to their 
 thighs, while others had no crural coverings at 
 all, and only rough sandals, such as the Indians 
 there use, between their feet and the ground. 
 They were picturesque, perhaps, but not at- 
 tractive to wealthy travellers. But the wealthy 
 travellers were attractive to them : so they 
 came together, all the same. Such as they 
 were, however, there they were, fierce, sad, and 
 sallow, with vicious-looking knives in their belts, 
 and guns of various parentage in their hands, 
 while their captain bade our good man stand 
 and deliver. 
 
 There was no room for choice. He had an 
 escort, to be sure ; but it was entirely unequal 
 to the emergency, even if it were not, as was 
 afterwards shrewdly suspected, in league with 
 the robbers. The enemy had the advantage
 
 78 EDMUND QUINCY. 
 
 of arms, position, and numbers ; and there was 
 nothing for him to do but to disgorge his 
 hoarded gains at once, or to have his breath 
 stopped first, and his estate summarily admin- 
 istered upon afterwards, by these his casual 
 heirs, as the King of France, by virtue of his 
 Droit d'Auhaine, would have confiscated Yor- 
 ick's six shirts and pair of black silk breeches, 
 in spite of his eloquent protest against such 
 injustice, had he chanced to die in his Most 
 Christian Majesty's dominions. As Signor Gar- 
 cia had an estate in his breath, from which he 
 could draw a larger yearly rent than the rolls of 
 many a Spanish grandee could boast, he wisely 
 chose the part of discretion, and surrendered at 
 the same. His new acquaintances showed them- 
 selves expert practitioners in the breaking-open 
 of trunks and the rifling of treasure-boxes. All 
 his beloved doubloons, all his cherished dollars, 
 for the which no Yankee ever felt a stronger 
 passion, took swift wings, and flew from his 
 coffers to alight in the hands of the adversary. 
 The sacred recesses of his pockets, and those 
 of his companions, were sacred no longer from 
 the sacrilegious hands of the spoilers. The 
 breastpins were ravished from the shirt-frills, — 
 for in those days studs were not, — and the
 
 WHO PAID FOR THE PRIMA DONNA ? 79 
 
 rings snatched from the reluctant fingers. All 
 the shining testimonials of Mexican admiration 
 were transferred with the celerity of magic into 
 the possession of the chivalry of the road. Not 
 Faulconbridge himself could have been more 
 resolved to come on at the beckoning of gold 
 and silver than were they, and, good Catholics 
 though they were, it is most likely that Bell, 
 Book, and Candle would have had as little 
 restraining influence over them as he professed 
 to feel. 
 
 At last they rested from their labors. To 
 the victors belonged the spoils, as they discov- 
 ered with instinctive sagacity that they should 
 do, though the apothegm had not yet received 
 the authentic seal of American statesmanship. 
 Science and skill had done their utmost, and 
 poor Garcia and his companions in misery 
 stood in the centre of the ring, stripped of 
 every thing but the clothes on their backs. 
 The duty of the day being satisfactorily per- 
 formed, the victors felt that they had a right to 
 some relaxation after their toils. And now a 
 change came over them which might have re- 
 minded Signor Garcia of the banditti of the 
 green-room, with whose habits he had been so 
 long familiar, and whose operations he had
 
 8o EDMUND QUINCY. 
 
 himself directed. Some one of the troop, who 
 however "fit for strategems and spoils," had 
 yet music in his soul, called aloud for a song. 
 The idea was hailed with acclamations. Not 
 satisfied with the capitalized results of his 
 voice to which they had helped themselves, 
 they were unwilling to let their prey go, until 
 they had also ravished from him some speci- 
 mens of the airy mintage whence they had 
 issued. Accordingly the Catholic vagabonds 
 seated themselves on the ground, a fuligi- 
 nous parterre to look upon, and called upon 
 Garcia for a song. A rock which projected 
 itself from the side of the hill served for a 
 stage as well as the " green plat " in the wood 
 near Athens did for the company of Manager 
 Quince, and there was no need of a " tiring- 
 room," as poor Garcia had no clothes to change 
 for those he stood in. Not the Hebrews by 
 the waters of Babylon, when their captors de- 
 manded of them a song of Zion, had less 
 stomach for the task. But the prime tenor 
 was now before an audience that would brook 
 neither denial nor excuse. Nor hoarseness, nor 
 catarrh, nor sudden illness, certified unto by 
 the friendly physician, would avail him now. 
 The demand was irresistible ; for, when he
 
 WffO PAID FOR THE PRIMA DONNA ? Si 
 
 hesitated, the persuasive though stern mouth 
 of a musket hinted to him in expressive silence 
 that he had better prevent its speech with song. 
 So he had to make his first appearance upon 
 that " unworthy scaffold," before an audience, 
 which, multifold as his experience had been, was 
 one such as he had never sung to yet. As the 
 shadows of evening began to fall, rough torches 
 of pine-wood were lighted, and shed a glare 
 such as Salvator Rosa loved to kindle, upon a 
 scene such as he delighted to paint. The ras- 
 cals had taste ; that the tenor himself could 
 not deny. They knew the choice bits of the 
 operas which held the stage forty years ago, and 
 they called for them wisely, and applauded his 
 efforts vociferously. Nay, more, in the height 
 of their enthusiasm they would toss him one of 
 his own doubloons or dollars, instead of the 
 bouquets usually hurled at well-deserving sing- 
 ers. They well judged that these flowers that 
 never fade would be the tribute he would value 
 most, and so they rewarded his meritorious 
 strains out of his own stores, as Claude Duval 
 or Richard Turpin, in the golden days of high- 
 way robbery, would sometimes generously re- 
 turn a guinea to a traveller he had just 
 lightened of his purse, to enable him to con-
 
 82 EDMUND QUINCY. 
 
 tinue his journey. It was lucky for the un- 
 fortunate Garcia that their approbation took 
 this solid shape, or he would have been badly 
 off indeed ; for it was all he had to begin the 
 world with over again. After his appreciating 
 audience had exhausted their musical reper- 
 tory, and had as many encores as they thought 
 good, they broke up the concert, and betook 
 themselves to their fastnesses among the 
 mountains, leaving their patient to find his way 
 to the coast as best he might, with a pocket 
 as light as his soul was heavy. At Vera Cruz a 
 concert or two furnished him with the means 
 of embarking himself and his troupe for Europe, 
 and leaving the New World forever behind 
 him. 
 
 And here I must leave him, for my story is 
 done. The reader hungering for a moral may 
 discern, that, though Signor Garcia received 
 the price he asked for his lovely daughter, it 
 advantaged him nothing, and that he not only 
 lost it all, but it was the occasion of his losing 
 every thing else he had. This is very well as far as 
 it goes; but then it is equally true that M. 
 Malibran actually obtained his wife, and that 
 Mynheer Van Holland paid for her. I dare 
 say all this can be reconciled with the eternal
 
 WHO PAID FOR THE PRIMA DONNA ? 83 
 
 fitness of things ; but I protest I don't see how 
 it is to be done. It is " all a muddle" in my 
 mind. I cannot even affirm that the banditti 
 were ever hanged ; and I am quite sure that 
 the unlucky Dutch merchant, whose goods 
 were so comically mixed up with this whole 
 history, never had any poetical or material jus- 
 tice for his loss of them. But it is as much the 
 reader's business as mine to settle these casuis- 
 tries. I only undertook to tell him who it was 
 that paid for the Prima Donna — and I have 
 done it. 
 
 V. 
 
 " I consider that a good story," said the Con- 
 sul, when he had finished the narration out of 
 which I have compounded the foregoing, " and, 
 what is not always the case with a good story, 
 it is a true one." 
 
 I cordially concurred with my honored friend 
 in this opinion, and if the reader should unfortu- 
 nately differ from me on this point, I beg him 
 to believe that it is entirely my fault. As the 
 Consul told it to me, it was an excellent good 
 story. 
 
 " Poor Mynheer Van Holland," he added, 
 laughing, " never got over that adventure. 
 Not that the loss was material to him, — he
 
 84 EDMUND QUINCY. 
 
 was too rich for that, — but the provocation of 
 his fifty thousand dollars going to a parcel of 
 Mexican ladrones, after buying an opera-singer 
 for a Frenchman on its way, was enough to 
 rouse even Dutch human nature to the swear- 
 ing-point. He could not abide either French- 
 men or opera-singers all the rest of his life. 
 And, by Jove ! I don't wonder at it." 
 
 Nor I, neither, for the matter of that. — 
 Wensley, and Other Stories.
 
 OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 
 
 (born, 1809.) 
 
 FOREIGN CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 DO I think that the particular form of 
 lying often seen in newspapers, under 
 the title, " From our Foreign Correspondent," 
 does any harm ? — Why, no, — I don't know that 
 it does. I suppose it does n't really deceive 
 people any more than the " Arabian Nights " 
 or " Gulliver's Travels " do. Sometimes the 
 writers compile too carelessly, though, and mix 
 up facts out of geographies, and stories out of 
 the penny papers, so as to mislead those who 
 are desirous of information. I cut a piece out 
 of one of the papers, the other day, which con- 
 tains a number of improbabilities, and, I sus- 
 pect, misstatements. I will send up and get it 
 for you, if you would like to hear it. Ah, this 
 is it ; it is headed 
 
 " OUR SUMATRA CORRESPONDENCE. 
 
 " This island is now the property of the 
 Stamford family, — having been won, it is said, 
 
 85
 
 86 OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 
 
 in a raffle, by Sir Stamford, during the 
 
 stock-gambling mania of the South-Sea Scheme. 
 The history of this gentleman may be found 
 in an interesting series of questions (unfortu- 
 nately not yet answered) contained in the 
 * Notes and Queries.* This island is entirely 
 surrounded by the ocean, which here contains 
 a large amount of saline substance, crystallizing 
 in cubes remarkable for their symmetry, and 
 frequently displays on its surface, during calm 
 weather, the rainbow tints of the celebrated 
 South-Sea bubbles. The summers are oppres- 
 sively hot, and the winters very probably cold ; 
 but this fact cannot be ascertained precisely, 
 as, for some peculiar reason, the mercury in 
 these latitudes never shrinks, as in more -north- 
 ern regions, and thus the thermometer is ren- 
 dered useless in winter. 
 
 " The principal vegetable productions of the 
 island are the pepper-tree and the bread-fruit 
 tree. Pepper being very abundantly produced, 
 a benevolent society was organized in London 
 during the last century for supplying the na- 
 tives with vinegar and oysters, as an addition 
 to that delightful condiment. (Note received 
 from Dr. D. P.) It is said, however, that, as 
 the oysters were of the kind called natives in
 
 FOREIGN CORRESPONDENCE. 8/ 
 
 England, the natives of Sumatra, in obedience 
 to a natural instinct, refused to touch them, 
 and confined themselves entirely to the crew 
 of the vessel in which they were brought over. 
 This information was received from one of the 
 oldest inhabitants, a native himself, and ex- 
 ceedingly fond of missionaries. He is said 
 also to be very skilful in the cuisine peculiar to 
 the island. 
 
 " During the season of gathering pepper, the 
 persons employed are subject to various incom- 
 modities, the chief of which is violent and long- 
 continued sternutation, or sneezing. Such is 
 the vehemence of these attacks, that the unfor- 
 tunate subjects of them are often driven back- 
 wards for great distances at immense speed, on 
 the well-known principle of the aeolipile. Not 
 being able to see where they are going, these 
 poor creatures dash themselves to pieces against 
 the rocks, or are precipitated over the cliffs, 
 and thus many valuable lives are lost annually. 
 As, during the whole pepper-harvest, they feed 
 exclusively on this stimulant, they become ex- 
 ceedingly irritable. The smallest injury is 
 resented with ungovernable rage. A young man 
 suffering from the pepper-fever, as it is called, 
 cudgelled another most severely for appropria-
 
 88 OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 
 
 ting a superannuated relative of trifling value, 
 and was only pacified by having a present 
 made him of a pig of that peculiar species 
 of swine called the Peccavi by the Catholic 
 Jews, who, it is well known, abstain from 
 swine's flesh in imitation of the Mahometan 
 Buddhists. 
 
 " The bread-tree grows abundantly. Its 
 branches are well known to Europe and 
 America under the familiar name of maccarojii. 
 The smaller twigs are called vermicelli. They 
 have a decided animal flavor, as may be ob- 
 served in the soups containing them. Macca- 
 roni, being tubular, is the favorite habitat of a 
 very dangerous insect, which is rendered pe- 
 culiarly ferocious by being boiled. The gov- 
 ernment of the island, therefore, never allows a 
 stick of it to be exported without being accom- 
 panied by a piston with which its cavity may 
 at any time be thoroughly swept out. These 
 are commonly lost or stolen before the macca- 
 roni arrives among us. It therefore always 
 contains many of these insects, which, how- 
 ever, generally die of old age in the shops, so 
 that accidents from this source are compara- 
 tively rare. 
 
 " The fruit of the bread-tree consists princi-
 
 MUSIC-POUNDING. 89 
 
 pally of hot rolls. The buttered-muffin va- 
 riety is supposed to be a hybrid with the 
 cocoa-nut palm, the cream found on the 
 milk of the cocoa-nut exuding from the hy- 
 brid in the shape of butter, just as the ripe 
 fruit is splitting, so as to fit it for the tea- 
 table, where it is commonly served up with 
 
 cold " 
 
 — There, — I don't want to read any more of 
 it. You see that many of these statements are 
 highly improbable. No, I shall not mention 
 the paper. — The Autocrat of the Breakfast- 
 Table. 
 
 MUSIC-POUNDING. 
 
 The old Master was talking about a concert 
 he had been to hear. 
 
 — I don't like your chopped music anyway. 
 That woman — she had more sense in her little 
 finger than forty medical societies — Florence 
 Nightingale — says that the music you pour out 
 is good for sick folks, and the music you poimd 
 out is n't. Not that exactly, but something 
 like it. I have been to hear some music- 
 pounding. It was a young woman, with as 
 many white muslin flounces round her as the 
 planet Saturn has rings, that did it. She gave
 
 90 OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 
 
 the music-stool a twirl or two and fluffed down 
 on to it like a whirl of soap-suds in a hand- 
 basin. Then she pushed up her cuffs as if she 
 was going to fight for the champion's belt. 
 Then she worked her wrists and her hands, to 
 limber 'em, I suppose, and spread out her 
 fingers till they looked as though they would 
 pretty much cover the key-board, from the 
 growling end to the little squeaky one. Then 
 those two hands of hers made a jump at the 
 keys as if they were a couple of tigers coming 
 down on a flock of black and white sheep, and 
 the piano gave a great howl as if its tail had 
 been trod on. Dead stop, — so still you could 
 hear your hair growing. Then another jump, 
 and another howl, as if the piano had two tails 
 and )ou had trod on both of 'cm at once, and 
 then a grand clatter and scramble and string of 
 jumps, up and down, back and forward, one 
 hand over the other, like a stampede of rats 
 and mice more than like any thing I call music. 
 I like to hear a woman sing, and I like to hear 
 a fiddle sing, but these noises they hammer out 
 of their wood and ivory anvils — don't talk to 
 me, I know the difference between a bull-frog 
 and a wood-thrush. — The Poet at the Breakfast- 
 Table.
 
 THE OLD MAJV DREAMS. 9 1 
 
 THE OLD MAN DREAMS. 
 
 for one hour of youthful joy ! 
 Give back my twentieth spring ! 
 
 1 'd rather laugh a bright-haired boy 
 
 Than reign a gray-beard king ! 
 
 Off with the wrinkled spoils of age ! 
 
 Away with learning's crown ! 
 Tear out life's wisdom-written page, 
 
 And dash its trophies down ! 
 
 One moment let my life-blood stream 
 From boyhood's fount of flame ! 
 
 Give me one giddy, reeling dream 
 Of life all love and fame ! 
 
 My listening angel heard the prayer, 
 
 And calmly smiling, said, 
 " If I but touch thy silvered hair. 
 
 Thy hasty wish hath sped. 
 
 " But is there nothing in thy track 
 
 To bid thee fondly stay, 
 While the swift seasons hurry back 
 
 To find the wished-for day ? " 
 
 — Ah, truest soul of womankind ! 
 Without thee, what were life ?
 
 92 OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 
 
 One bliss I cannot leave behind : 
 I '11 take — my — precious — wife ! 
 
 — The angel took a sapphire pen 
 
 And wrote in rainbow dew, 
 " The man would be a boy again, 
 
 And be a husband too ! " 
 
 — " And is there nothing yet unsaid 
 
 Before the change appears ? 
 Remember, all their gifts have fled 
 
 With those dissolving years ! " 
 
 Why, yes ; for memory would recall 
 
 My fond paternal joys; 
 I could not bear to leave them all — 
 
 I '11 take — my — girl — and — boys ! 
 
 The smiling angel dropped his pen, — 
 
 " Why this will never do ; 
 The man would be a boy again, 
 
 And be a father too ! " 
 
 And so I laughed, — my laughter woke 
 The household with its noise, — 
 
 And wrote my dream, when morning broke, 
 To please the gray-haired boys. 
 
 — The A utocrat of the Breakfast- Table.
 
 DISLIKES. 93 
 
 DISLIKES. 
 
 I want it to be understood that I consider 
 that a certain number of persons are at Hberty 
 to dislike me peremptorily, without showing- 
 cause, and that they give no offence whatever 
 in so doing. 
 
 If I did not cheerfully acquiesce in this senti- 
 ment towards myself on the part of others, I 
 should not feel at liberty to indulge my own 
 aversions. I try to cultivate a Christian feeling 
 to all my fellow-creatures, but inasmuch as I 
 must also respect truth and honesty, I confess to 
 myself a certain number of inalienable dislikes 
 and prejudices, some of which may possibly be 
 shared by others. Some of these are purely in- 
 stinctive, for others I can assign a reason. Our 
 likes and dislikes play so important a part in 
 the order of things that it is well to see on what 
 they are founded. 
 
 There are persons I meet occasionally who 
 are too intelligent by half for my liking. They 
 know my thoughts beforehand, and tell me 
 what I was going to say. Of course they are 
 masters of all my knowledge, and a good deal 
 besides ; have read all the books I have read, 
 and in later editions ; have had all the experi- 
 ences I have been through, and more too. In
 
 94 OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 
 
 my private opinion every mother's son of them 
 will lie at any time rather than confess ignorance. 
 
 — I have a kind of dread, rather than hatred, 
 of persons with a large excess of vitality ; great 
 feeders, great laughers, great story-tellers, who 
 come sweeping over their company with a huge 
 tidal wave of animal spirits and boisterous 
 merriment. I have pretty good spirits myself, 
 and enjoy a little mild pleasantry, but I am 
 oppressed and extinguished by these great 
 lusty, noisy creatures, and feel as if I were 
 a mute at a funeral when they get into full 
 blast. 
 
 — I cannot get along much better with those 
 drooping, languid people, whose vitality falls 
 short as much as that of the others is in excess. 
 I have not life enough for two ; I wish I had. It 
 is not very enlivening to meet a fellow-creature 
 whose expression and accents say, " You are 
 the hair that breaks the camel's back of my en- 
 durance, you are the last drop that makes my 
 cup of woe run over " ; persons whose heads 
 drop on one side like those of toothless infants, 
 whose voices recall the tones in which our old 
 snuffling choir used to wail out the verses of 
 
 " Life is the time to serve the Lord."
 
 DISLIKES. 95 
 
 — There is another style which does not cap- 
 tivate me. I recognize an attempt at the grand 
 manner now and then, in persons who are well 
 enough in their way, but of no particular im- 
 portance, socially or otherwise. Some family 
 tradition of wealth or distinction is apt to be at 
 the bottom of it, and it survives all the advan- 
 tages that used to set it off. I like family pride 
 as well as my neighbors, and respect the high- 
 born fellow-citizen whose progenitors have not 
 worked in their shirt-sleeves for the last two 
 generations full as much as I ought to. But 
 grand-pcre oblige ; a person with a known grand- 
 father is too distinguished to find it necessary 
 to put on airs. The few Royal Princes I have 
 happened to know were very easy people to 
 get along with, and had not half the social 
 knee-action I have often seen in the collapsed 
 dowagers who lifted their eyebrows at me in 
 my earlier years. 
 
 — My heart does not warm as it should do 
 towards the persons, not intimates, who are al- 
 ways too glad to see me when we meet by acci- 
 dent, and discover all at once that they have a 
 vast deal to unbosom themselves of to me. 
 
 — There is one blameless person whom I can- 
 not love and have no excuse for hating. It is
 
 96 OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 
 
 the innocent fellow-creature, otherwise inoffen- 
 sive to me, whom I find I have involuntarily 
 joined on turning a corner. I suppose the Mis- 
 sissippi, which was flowing quietly along, mind- 
 ing its own business, hates the Missouri for 
 coming into it all at once witii its muddy 
 stream. I suppose the Missouri in like man- 
 ner hates the Mississippi for diluting with its 
 limpid, but insipid current the rich reminis- 
 cences of the varied soils though which its 
 own stream has wandered. I will not com- 
 pare myself to the clear or the turbid cur- 
 rent, but I will own that my heart sinks when 
 I find all of a sudden I am in for a corner con- 
 fluence, and I cease loving my neighbor as my- 
 self until I can get away from him. — The Poet at 
 the Breakfast-Table.
 
 HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. 
 
 (born iSi2.) 
 
 SAM LAWSON. 
 
 EVERY New England village, if you only 
 think of it, must have its do-nothing as 
 regularly as it has its school-house or meeting- 
 house. Nature is alvvay wide awake in the 
 matter of compensation. Work, thrift, and in- 
 dustry are such an incessant steam-power in 
 Yankee life, that society would burn itself out 
 with intense friction were there not interposed 
 here and there the lubricating power of a de- 
 cided do-nothing, — a man who won't be hur- 
 ried, and won't work, and will take his ease in 
 his own way, in spite of the whole protest of 
 his neighborhood to the contrary. And there is 
 on the face of the whole earth no do-nothing 
 whose softness, idleness, general inaptitude to 
 labor, and everlasting, universal shiftlessness 
 can compare with that of this worthy, as found 
 in a brisk Yankee village. 
 
 97
 
 ga HARRIET BEECH ER STOWE. 
 
 Sam Lawson filled this post with ample honor 
 in Oldtown. He was a fellow dear to the souls 
 of all " us boys " in the village, because, from 
 the special nature of his position, he never had 
 any thing more pressing to do than croon and 
 gossip with us. He was ready to spend hours 
 in tinkering a boy's jack-knife, or mending his 
 skate, or start at the smallest notice to watch at 
 a woodchuck's hole, or give incessant service in 
 tending a dog's sprained paw. He was always 
 on hand to go fishing with us on Saturday after- 
 noons ; and I have known him to sit hour after 
 hour on the bank, surrounded by a troop of boys, 
 baiting our hooks and taking off our fish. He 
 was a soft-hearted old body, and the wrigglings 
 and contortions of our prey used to disturb his 
 repose so that it was a regular part of his work 
 to kill the fish by breaking their necks when he 
 took them from the hook. 
 
 " Why, lordy massy, boys," he would say, " I 
 can't bear to see no kind o' critter in torment. 
 These 'ere pouts ain't to blame for bein' fish, 
 and ye ought to put 'em out of their misery. 
 Fish lies their rights as well as any of us." . . . 
 
 Sam was of respectable family, and not desti- 
 tute of education. He was an expert in at least 
 five or six different kinds of handicraft, in all of
 
 SAM LA IVSON. 99 
 
 which he had been pronounced by the knowing 
 ones to be a capable workman, " if only he 
 would stick to it." 
 
 He had a blacksmith's shop, where, when 
 the fit was on him, he would shoe a horse 
 better than any man in the country. No one 
 could supply a missing screw, or apply a timely 
 brace, with more adroitness. He could mend 
 cracked china so as to be almost as good as 
 new ; he could use carpenter's tools as well as 
 a born carpenter, and would doctor a rheumatic 
 door or a shaky window better than half the 
 professional artisans in wood. No man could 
 put a refractory clock to rights with more in- 
 genuity than Sam, — that is, if you would give 
 him his time to be about it. 
 
 I shall never forget the wrath and dismay 
 which he roused in my Aunt Lois's mind by 
 the leisurely way in which, after having taken 
 our own venerable kitchen clock to pieces, and 
 strewn the fragments all over the kitchen, he 
 would roost over it in endless incubation, tell- 
 ing stories, entering into long-winded theologi- 
 cal discussions, smoking pipes, and giving his- 
 tories of all the other clocks in Oldtown, with 
 occasional memoirs of those in Needmore, 
 the North Parish, and Podunk, as placidly
 
 100 HARRIET BEECHER STOWE. 
 
 indifferent to all her volleys of sarcasm and 
 contempt, her stinging expostulations and 
 philippics, as the sailing old moon is to the 
 frisky, animated barking of some puppy dog 
 of earth. 
 
 " Why, ye see, Miss Lois," he would say, 
 " clocks can't be druv ; that 's jest what they 
 can't. Some things can be druv, and then agin 
 some things can't, and clocks is that kind. 
 They 's jest got to be humored. Now this 
 'ere 's a 'mazin' good clock, give me my time 
 on it, and I '11 have it so 't will keep straight on 
 to the Millennium." 
 
 " Millennium ! " says Aunt Lois, with a snort 
 of infinite contempt. 
 
 " Yes, the Millennium," says Sam, letting fall 
 his work in a contemplative manner. " That 
 'ere 's an interestin' topic now. Parson Lothrop, 
 he don't think the Millennium will last a thou- 
 sand years. What 's your 'pinion on that pint, 
 Miss Lois? " 
 
 " My opinion is," said Aunt Lois, in her most 
 nipping tones, " that if folks don't mind their 
 own business, and do with their might what 
 their hands find to do, the Millennium won't 
 come at all." 
 
 " Wal, you see, Miss Lois, it 's just here, —
 
 SAM LAWSON. 1 01 
 
 one day is with the Lord as a thousand years, 
 and a thousand years as one day." 
 
 " I should think you thought a day was a 
 thousand years, the way you work," said Aunt 
 Lois. 
 
 " Wal," says Sam, sitting down with his back 
 to his desperate litter of wheels, weights, and 
 pendulums, and meditatively caressing his knee 
 as he watched the sailing clouds in abstract 
 meditation, " ye see, ef a thing 's ordained, why 
 it 's got to be, ef you don't lift a finger. That 
 'ere 's so now, ain't it ? " 
 
 " Sam Lawson, you are about the most aggra- 
 vating creature I ever had to do with. Here 
 you 've got our clock all to pieces, and have 
 been keeping up a perfect hurrah's nest in our 
 kitchen for three days, and there you sit maun- 
 dering and talking with your back to your work, 
 fussin' about the Millennium, which is none of 
 your business, or mine, as I know of ! Do either 
 put that clock together or let it alone ! " 
 
 " Don't you be a grain uneasy. Miss Lois. 
 Why, I '11 have your clock all right in the end, 
 but I can't be druv. Wall, I guess I '11 take 
 another spell on 't to-morrow or Friday." 
 
 Poor Aunt Lois, horror-stricken, but seeing 
 herself actually in the hands of the imperturba-
 
 102 HARRIET BEECH ER STOIVE. 
 
 ble enemy, now essayed tlic tack of concilia- 
 tion. " Now do, Lawson, just finish up this 
 job, and I '11 pay you down, right on the spot ; 
 and you need the money." 
 
 " I 'd like to 'blige ye, Miss Lois ; but ye see 
 money ain't every thing in this world. Ef I 
 work tew long on one thing, my mind kind o' 
 gives out, ye see ; and besides, I 've got some 
 'sponsibilities to 'tend to. There 's Mrs. Cap- 
 tain Brown, she made me promise to come to- 
 day and look at the nose o' that 'ere silver 
 teapot o' hern ; it 's kind o' sprung a leak. 
 And then I 'greed to split a little oven-wood 
 for the Widdah Pedee, that lives up on the 
 Shelburn road. Must visit the widdahs in 
 their afHiction, Scriptur' says. And then there 's 
 Hepsy : she 's allers castin' it up at me that I 
 don't do nothing for her and the chil'en ; but 
 then, lordy massy, Ilcpsy hain't no sort o' pa- 
 tience. Why jest this mornin' I was a tclh'n' 
 her to count up her marcies, and I 'clare for 't 
 if I did n't think she 'd a throwed the tongs at 
 me. That 'ere woman's temper railly makes 
 me consarned. Wal, good-day. Miss Lois. I '11 
 be along again to-morrow or l-Viday or the first 
 o* next week." And away he went with long, 
 loose strides down the village street, while the
 
 SAM LAW SON. IO3 
 
 leisurely wail of an old fuguing tune floated 
 back after him, — 
 
 " Thy years are an 
 Eternal day, 
 Thy years are an 
 Eternal day." 
 
 " An eternal torment," said Aunt Lois, with 
 a snap. " I 'm sure, if there 's a mortal creature 
 on this earth that I pity, it 's Hepsy Lawson. 
 Folks talk about her scolding, — that Sam Law- 
 son is enough to make the saints in Heaven fall 
 from grace. And you can't do any thing with 
 him : it 's like charging bayonet into a wool- 
 
 One Saturday afternoon, Tina and I drove 
 over to Needmore with a view to having 
 one more gossip with Sam Lawson. Hepsy, 
 it appears, had departed this life, and Sam had 
 gone over to live with a son of his in Need- 
 more. We found him roosting placidly in the 
 porch on the sunny side of the house. 
 
 " Why, lordy massy, bless your soul an* body, 
 ef that ain't Horace Holyoke ! " he said, when 
 he recognized who I was. " An' this 'ere 's 
 your wife, is it ? Wal, wal, how this 'ere world 
 does turn round ! Wal, now, who would ha'
 
 104 HARRIET BEECHER STOIVE. 
 
 thouglit it ? Here you be, and Tiny with you. 
 Wal, wal." 
 
 " Yes," said I, " here we are." 
 
 " Wal, now, jest sit down," said Sam, mo- 
 tioning us to a seat in the porch. " I was jest 
 kind o' 'flectin' out here in the sun ; ben a 
 readin' in the ]\Iissionary Herald ; they 've ben 
 a sendin' missionaries to Otawhity, an' they 
 say that there ain't no winter there, an' the 
 bread jest grows on the trees, so 't they don't 
 hev to make none, an' there ain't no wood-piles 
 nor splittin' wood, nor nothin' o' that sort goin' 
 on, an' folks don't need no clothes to speak on. 
 Now, I 's jest thinkin' that 'ere 's jest the 
 country to suit me. I wonder, now, ef they 
 could n't find suthin' for me to do out there. 
 I could shoe the bosses, cf they had any, an' I 
 could teach the natives their catechize, an* 
 kind o' help round gin'ally. These 'ere winters 
 gits so cold here I 'm e'en a'most crooked up 
 with rheumatiz." 
 
 " Why, Sam," said Tina, " where is Hepsy?" 
 
 " Law, now, hain't ye heerd ? Why, Ilepsy, 
 she 's been dead, wal, let me see, 't was three 
 year the fourteenth o' last May when Ilepsy 
 died, but she was clear wore out afore she died. 
 Wal, jest half on her was clear paralyzed, poor
 
 SAM LAWSON. 105 
 
 crittur ; she could n't speak a word ; that 'ere 
 was a gret trial to her, I don't think she was 
 resigned under it. Hepsy hed an awful sight 
 o' grit. I used to talk to Hepsy, an' talk, an' 
 try to set things afore her in the best way I 
 could, so 's to get 'er into a better state o' 
 mind. D' you b'lieve, one day when I 'd ben 
 a talkin' to her, she kind o' made a motion to 
 me with her eye, an' when I went up to 'er, 
 what d' you think ? why, she jest tuk and BIT 
 me ! she did so ! " 
 
 *'Sam," said Tina, " I sympathize with Hep- 
 sy. I believe if I had to be talked to an hour, 
 and could n't answer, I should bite." — Oldtozvn 
 Folks.
 
 HENRY WARD BEECHER. 
 
 (born, 1813.) 
 
 DEACON MARBLE. 
 
 HOW they ever made a deacon out of 
 Jerry Marble I never could imagine ! 
 His was the kindest heart that ever bubbled 
 and ran over. He was elastic, tough, inces- 
 santly active, and a prodigious worker. He 
 seemed never to tire, but after the longest 
 day's toil, he sprang up the moment he had 
 done with work, as if he were a fine steel 
 spring. A few hours' sleep sufficed him, and 
 he saw the morning stars the year round. His 
 weazened face was leather color, but forever 
 dimpling and changing to keep some sort of 
 congruity between itself and his eyes, that 
 winked and blinked, and spilt over with merry 
 good nature. He always seemed afflicted when 
 obliged to be sober. He had been known to 
 laugh in meeting on several occasions, although 
 he ran his face behind his handkerchief, and 
 
 106
 
 DEACON MARBLE. \Oj 
 
 coughed, as if that was the matter, yet nobody- 
 believed it. Once, in a hot summer day, he 
 saw Deacon Trowbridge, a sober and fat man, 
 of great sobriety, gradually ascending from the 
 bodily state into that spiritual condition called 
 sleep. He was blameless of the act. He had 
 struggled against the temptation with the 
 whole virtue of a deacon. He had eaten two 
 or three heads of fennel in vain, and a piece of 
 orange peel. He had stirred himself up, and 
 fixed his eyes on the minister with intense 
 firmness, only to have them grow gradually 
 narrower and milder. If he held his head up 
 firmly, it would with a sudden lapse fall away 
 over backward. If he leaned it a little forward, 
 it would drop suddenly into his bosom. At 
 each nod, recovering himself, he would nod 
 again, with his eyes wide open, to impress 
 upon the boys that he did it on purpose both 
 times. 
 
 In what other painful event of life has a good 
 man so little sympathy as when overcome with 
 sleep in meeting time ? Against the insidious 
 seduction he arrays every conceivable resist- 
 ance. He stands up awhile ; he pinches him- 
 self, or pricks himself with pins. He looks up 
 helplessly to the pulpit as if some succor might
 
 loS IJENRY WARD BEECH ER. 
 
 come thence. He crosses his legs uncomforta- 
 bly, and attempts to recite catechism, or the 
 multiplication table. He seizes a languid fan, 
 which treacherouily leaves him in a calm. He 
 tries to reason, to notice the phenomena. 
 Oh, that one could carry his pew to bed 
 with him ! What tossing wakefulness there ! 
 what fier}'- chase after somnolency ! In his 
 lawful bed a man cannot sleep, and in his pew 
 he cannot keep awake ! Happy man who does 
 not sleep in church ! Deacon Trowbridge was 
 not that man. Deacon Marble was ! 
 
 Deacon Marble witnessed the conflict we have 
 sketched above, and when good Mr. Trowbridge 
 gave his next lurch, recovering himself with a 
 snort, and then drew out a red handkerchief 
 and blew his nose with a loud imitation, as if 
 to let the boys know that he had not been 
 asleep, poor Deacon Marble was brought to 
 a sore strait. But, I have reason to think that 
 he would have weathered the stress if it had 
 not been for a sweet-faced little boy in the front 
 of the galler>'. The lad had been innocently 
 watching the same scene, and at its climax 
 laughed out loud, with a frank and musical 
 explosion, and then suddenly disappeared back- 
 ward into his mother's lap. That laugh was just
 
 THE DEACON'S TROUT. IO9 
 
 too much, and Deacon Marble could no more 
 help laughing than could Deacon Trowbridge 
 help sleeping. Nor could he conceal it. Though 
 he coughed, and put up his handkerchief and 
 hemmed — it ivas a laugh — Deacon ! — and 
 every boy in the house knew it, and liked you 
 better for it — so inexperienced were they. — 
 Norwood. 
 
 THE deacon's trout. 
 
 He was a curious trout. I believe he knew 
 Sunday just as well as Deacon Marble did. At 
 any rate, the deacon thought the trout meant 
 to aggravate him. The deacon, you know, is a 
 little waggish. He often tells about that trout. 
 Sez he, " One Sunday morning, just as I got 
 along by the willows, I heard an awful splash, 
 and not ten feet from shore I saw the 
 trout, as long as my arm, just curving over 
 like a bow, and going down with something 
 for breakfast. Gracious ! says I, and I almost 
 jumped out of the wagon. But my wife Polly, 
 says she, ' What on airth are you thinkin' of, 
 Deacon ? It 's Sabbath day, and you 're goin' 
 to meetin' ! It 's a pretty business for a dea- 
 con! ' That sort o' cooled me off. But I do 
 say that, for about a minute, I wished I was n't
 
 no HENRY WARD BEECH ER. 
 
 a deacon. But 't would n't made any difference, 
 for I came down next day to mill on purpose, 
 and I came down once or twice more, and 
 nothin' was to be seen, tho' I tried him with 
 the most temptin' things. Wal, next Sunday 
 I came along agin, and, to save my life I 
 could n't keep off worldly and wanderin' 
 thoughts. I tried to be sayin' my catechism, 
 but I could n't keep my eyes off the pond as 
 we came up to the willows. I 'd got along in 
 the catechism, as smooth as the road, to the 
 Fourth Commandment, and was sayin' it out 
 loud for Polly, and jist as I was sayin': ' What 
 is required in tJic Fourth Commandvicnt ? ' I 
 heard a splash, and there was the trout, and, 
 afore I could think, I said : ' Gracious, Polly, I 
 must have that trout.' She almost riz right 
 up, ' I knew you wan't sayin' your catechism 
 hearty. Is this the way you answer the ques- 
 tion about kecpin' the Lord's day? I 'm 
 ashamed. Deacon Marble,' says she. ' You 'd 
 better change your road, and go to mcetin' on 
 the road over the hill. If I was a deacon, I 
 would n't let a fish's tail whisk the whole 
 catechism out of my head ' ; and I had to go 
 to mectin' on tho hill road all the rest of the 
 summer.' ' — Norxvood.
 
 THE DOG NOBLE. HI 
 
 THE DOG NOBLE, AND THE EMPTY HOLE. 
 The first summer which we spent in Lenox, 
 we had along a very inteUigent dog, named 
 Noble. He was learned in many things, and by 
 his dog-lore excited the undying admiration of 
 all the children. But there were some things 
 which Noble could never learn. Having on one 
 occasion seen a red squirrel run into a hole in a 
 stone wall, he could not be persuaded that he 
 was not there forevermore. 
 
 Several red squirrels lived close to the house, 
 and had become familiar, but not tame. They 
 kept up a regular romp with Noble. They 
 would come down from the maple trees with 
 provoking coolness ; they would run along the 
 fence almost within reach ; they would cock 
 their tails and sail across the road to the barn ; 
 and yet there was such a well-timed calculation 
 under all this apparant rashness, that Noble in- 
 variably arrived at the critical spot just as the 
 squirrel left it. 
 
 On one occasion Noble was so close upon his 
 red-backed friend that, unable to get up the 
 maple-tree, he dodged into a hole in the wall, 
 ran through the chinks, emerged at a little dis- 
 tance and sprung into the tree. The intense 
 enthusiasm of the dog at that hole can hardly
 
 112 HENRY WARD BEECHER. 
 
 be described. Ho filled it full of barkin<^. He 
 pawed and scratched as if undermining a bas- 
 tion. Standing off at a little distance, he would 
 pierce the hole with a gaze as intense and fixed 
 as if he were trying magnetism on it. Then, 
 with tail extended, and, every hair thereon 
 electrified, he would rush at the empty hole 
 with a prodigious onslaught. 
 
 This imaginary squirrel haunted Noble night 
 and day. The very squirrel himself would run 
 up before his face into the tree, and, crouched 
 in a crotch, would sit silently watching the 
 whole process of bombarding the empty hole, 
 with great sobriety and relish. But Noble 
 would allow of no doubts. His conviction that 
 that hole had a squirrel in it continued unshaken 
 for six weeks. When all other occupations failed, 
 this hole remained to him. When there were 
 no more chickens to harry, no pigs to bite, no 
 cattle to chase, no children to romp with, no ex- 
 peditions to make with the grown folks, and 
 when he had slept all that his dogskin would 
 hold, he would walk out of the yard, yawn and 
 stretch himself, and then look wistfully at the 
 hole, as if thinking to himself, "Well, as there is 
 nothing else to do, I may as well try that hole 
 again ! " — Eyes and Ears.
 
 APPLE-PIE. 113 
 
 APPLE-PIE. 
 
 How often people use language without the 
 slightest sense of its deep, interior meaning ! 
 Thus, no phrase is more carelessly or frequently- 
 used than the saying, "Apple-pie order ^ How 
 few who say so reflect at the time upon either 
 apple-pie or the true order of apple-pie ! Per- 
 haps they have been reared without instruction. 
 They may have been born in families that were 
 ignorant of apple-pie ; or who were left to the 
 guilt of calling two tough pieces of half-cooked 
 dough, with a thin streak of macerated dried 
 apple between them, of leather color, and of 
 taste and texture not unbecoming the same, — 
 an apple-pie ! But from such profound degra- 
 dation of ideas we turn away with gratitude 
 and humility, that one so unworthy as we 
 should have been reared to better thinsrs. 
 
 We are also affected with a sense of regret 
 for duty unperformed ; for great as have been 
 the benefits received, we have never yet cele- 
 brated as we ought the merits of apple-pie. 
 That reflection shall no longer cast its shadow 
 upon us. 
 
 " Henry, go down cellar, and bring me up 
 some Spitzenbergs." The cellar was as large 
 as the whole house, and the house was broad
 
 114 HENRY IVARD BEECHER. 
 
 as a small pyramid. The north side was \\\\\- 
 dowlcss, and banked up outside with frost- 
 defying tan-bark. The south side had win- 
 dows, festooned and frescoed with the webs of 
 spiders, that wove their tapestries over every 
 corner in the neighborhood, and, when no flies 
 were to be had, ate up each other, as if they 
 were nothing but poUticians, instead of being 
 lawful and honorable arachnidcs. On the east 
 side stood a row of cider-barrels ; for twelve or 
 twent/ barrels of cider were a fit provision for 
 the year, — and what was not consumed for 
 drink was expected duly to turn into vinegar, 
 and was then exalted to certain hogsheads kept 
 for the purpose. But along the middle of the 
 cellar were the apple-bins ; and when the sea- 
 son had been propitious, there were stores and 
 heaps of Russets, Greenings, Seeknofurthcrs, 
 Pearmains, Gilliflowers, Spitzenbergs and many 
 besides, nameless, but not virtueless. Thence 
 selecting, we duly brought up the apples. 
 Some people think any thing will do for pies. 
 But the best for eating are the best for cooking. 
 Who would make jelly of any other apple, that 
 had the Porter ? who would bake or roast any 
 other sweet apple, that had the Ladies Sweet- 
 ing, — unless, perhaps, the Tabnan Sweet? and
 
 APPLE-PIE. 115 
 
 who would put into a pie any apple but Spits- 
 enberg, that had that ? Off with their jackets ! 
 Fill the great wooden bowl with the sound 
 rogues ! And now, O cook ! which shall it 
 be ? For at this point the roads diverge, and 
 though they all come back at length to apple- 
 pie, it is not a matter of indifference which 
 you choose. There is, for example, one made 
 without under-crust, in a deep plate, and the 
 apples laid in, in full quarters ; or the apples 
 being stewed are beaten to a mush, and sea- 
 soned, and put between the double paste ; or 
 they are sliced thin and cooked entirely within 
 the covers ; or they are put without seasoning 
 into their bed, and when baked, the upper lid is 
 raised, and the butter, nutmeg, cinnamon, and 
 sugar are added ; the whole well mixed, and the 
 crust returned as if nothing had happened. 
 
 But O be careful of the paste ! Let it not 
 be like putty, nor rush to the other extreme, 
 and make it so flaky that one holds his breath 
 while eating for fear of blowing it all away. 
 Let it not be plain as bread, nor yet rich like 
 cake. Aim at that glorious medium, in which 
 it is tender without being fugaciously flaky; 
 short, without being too short ; a mild, sapid, 
 brittle thing, that lies upon the tongue, so as
 
 Il6 HENRY WARD BEECH ER. 
 
 to let the apple strike through and touch the 
 papilla with a mere effluent flavor. But this, 
 like all high art, must be a thing of inspiration 
 or instinct. A true cook will understand us, 
 and we care not if others do not ! 
 
 Do not suppose that we limit the apple-pie 
 to the kinds and methods enumerated. Its 
 capacity in variation is endless, and every di- 
 versity discovers some new charm or flavor. It 
 will accept almost every flavor of every spice. 
 And yet nothing is so fatal to the rare and 
 higher graces of apple-pie as inconsiderate, 
 vulgar spicing. It is not meant to be a mere 
 vehicle for the exhibition of these spices, in 
 their own natures. It is a glorious unity in 
 which sugar gives up its nature as sugar, and 
 butter ceases to be butter, and each flavorsome 
 spice gladly evanishes from its own full nature, 
 that all of them, by a common death, may rise 
 into the new life of apple-pie ! Not that apple 
 is longer apple ! //, too, is transformed. And 
 the final pie, though born of apple, sugar, 
 butter, nutmeg, cinnamon, lemon, is like none 
 of these, but the compound ideal of them all, 
 refined, purified, and by fire fixed in blissful 
 perfection. 
 
 But all exquisite creations are short-lived.
 
 APPLE-PIE. 117 
 
 The natural term of an apple-pie is but twelve 
 hours. It reaches its highest state about one 
 hour after it comes from the oven, and just 
 before its natural heat has quite departed. 
 But every hour afterward is a declension. 
 And after it is one day old, it is thenceforward 
 but the ghastly corpse of apple-pie. 
 
 But while it is yet florescent, white, or 
 creamy yellow, with the merest drip of candied 
 juice along the edges (as if the flavor were so 
 good to itself that its own lips watered !) of a 
 mild and modest warmth, the sugar suggesting 
 jelly, yet not jellied, the morsels of apple 
 neither dissolved nor yet in original substance, 
 but hanging as it were in a trance between the 
 spirit and the flesh of applehood, then, when 
 dinner is to be served at five o'clock, and you 
 are pivotted on the hour of one with a ravening 
 appetite, let the good dame bring forth for 
 luncheon an apple-pie, with cheese a year old, 
 crumbling and yet moist, but not with base 
 fluid, but oily rather ; then, O blessed man, 
 favored by all the divinities ! eat, give thanks, 
 and go forth, " in apple-pie order ! " — Eyes and 
 Ears.
 
 JOSEPH G. BALDWIN. 
 
 (born 1815 — DIED 1864.) 
 
 OVID BOLUS, ESQ., 
 ATTORNKY AT LAW AND SOLICITOR IN CHANCERY. 
 
 A Fragment. 
 ***** 
 
 AND wliat history of that halcyon period, 
 ranging from the year of Grace 1835 to 
 1837; that golden era, when shin-plasters were 
 the sole currency ; when bank-bills were 
 
 " Thick as autumnal leaves that strow the brooks 
 In Vallomhrosa," 
 
 and credit was a franchise ; — what history of 
 those times would be complete, that left out 
 the name of Ovid Bolus ? As well write the 
 biography of Prince Hal, and forbear all men- 
 tion of Falstaff. In law phrase, the thing 
 would be a "deed without a name," and void ; 
 a most unpardonable casus omissus. 
 
 I cannot trace, for reasons the sequel sug- 
 
 118
 
 OVID BOLUS, ESQ. II9 
 
 gests, the early history, much less the birth- 
 place, pedigree, and juvenile associations of this 
 worthy. Whence he or his forbears got his 
 name or how, I don't know ; but for the fact 
 that it is to be inferred he got it in infancy, I 
 should have thought he borrowed it ; he bor- 
 rowed every thing else he ever had, such things 
 as he got under the credit system only ex- 
 cepted ; in deference, however, to the axiom, 
 that there is some exception to all general rules, 
 I am willing to believe that he got this much 
 honestly, by bona-fide gift or inheritance, and 
 without false pretence. 
 
 I have had a hard time of it in endeavoring 
 to assign to Bolus his leading vice ; I have 
 given up the task in despair; but I have es- 
 sayed to designate that one which gave him, in 
 the end, most celebrity. I am aware that it is 
 invidious to make comparisons, and to give pre- 
 eminence to one over other rival qualities and 
 gifts, where all have high claims to distinction ; 
 but, then, the stern justice of criticism, in this 
 case, requires a discrimination which, to be in- 
 telligible and definite, must be relative and 
 comparative. I, therefore, take the responsi- 
 bility of saying, after due reflection, that in my 
 opinion, Bolus's reputation stood higher for
 
 120 JOSEPH C. BALDWIN. 
 
 lying than for anything else; and in thus as- 
 signing pre-eminence to this poetic property, I 
 do it without any desire to derogate from other 
 brilliant characteristics belonging to the same 
 general category, which have drawn the won- 
 dering notice of the world. 
 
 Some men are liars from interest ; not be- 
 cause they have no regard for truth, but because 
 they have less regard for it than for gain ; some 
 are liars from vanity, because they would rather 
 be well thought of by others, than have reason 
 for thinking well of themselves ; some are liars 
 from a sort of necessity, which overbears, by 
 the weight of temptation, the sense of virtue; 
 some are enticed away by the allurements of 
 pleasure, or seduced by evil example and edu- 
 cation. Bolus was none of these ; he belonged 
 to a higher department of the fine arts, and to 
 a higher class of professors of this sort of Belles- 
 Lettres. Bolus was a natural liar, just as some 
 horses are natural pacers, and some dogs natu- 
 ral setters. What he did in that walk, was from 
 the irresistible promptings of instinct, and a 
 disinterested love of art. His genius and his 
 performances were free from the vulgar alloy of 
 interest or temptation. Accordingly, he did not 
 labor a lie ; he lied with a relish ; he lied with
 
 OVID BOLUS, ESQ. 121 
 
 a coming appetite, growing with what it fed 
 on ; he lied from the dehght of invention and 
 the charm of fictitious narrative. It is true he 
 apphed his art to the practical purposes of life ; 
 but in so far did he glory the more in it ; just 
 as an ingenious machinist rejoices that his in- 
 vention, while it has honored science, has also 
 supplied a common want. 
 
 Bolus's genius for lying was encyclopediacal ; 
 it was what German criticism calls many-sided. 
 It embraced all subjects without distinction or 
 partiality. It was equally good upon all, " from 
 grave to gay, from lively to severe." 
 
 Bolus's lying came from his greatness of soul 
 and his comprehensiveness of mind. The truth 
 was too small for him. Fact was too dry and 
 common-place for the fervor of his genius. 
 Besides, great as was his memory — for he even 
 remembered the outlines of his chief lies — his 
 invention was still larger. He had a great con- 
 tempt for history and historians. He thought 
 them tame and timid cobblers ; mere tinkers 
 on other people's wares, — simple parrots and 
 magpies of other men's sayings or doings ; bor- 
 rowers of and acknowledged debtors for others' 
 chattels, got without skill ; they had no sepa- 
 rate estate in their ideas ; they were bailees of
 
 122 JOSEPH G. BALDIVIN. 
 
 goods, which they did not pretend to hold by 
 adverse title ; buriers of talents in napkins 
 making no usury; barren and unprofitable non- 
 producers in the intellectual vineyard — nati 
 consuincre fritgcs. 
 
 He adopted a fact occasionally to start with, 
 but, like a Shefifield razor and the crude ore, 
 the workmanship, polish, and value were all his 
 own ; a Thibet shawl could as well be credited 
 to the insensate goat that grew the wool, as 
 the author of a fact Bolus honored with his ar- 
 tistical skill, could claim to be the inventor of 
 the &tory. 
 
 His experiments upon credulity, like charity, 
 began at home. He had long torn down the 
 partition wall between his imagination and his 
 memorj\ He had long ceased to distinguish 
 between the impressions made upon his mind 
 by what c^xxno. froui it, and what came to it ; all 
 ideas were facts to him. 
 
 Bolus's life was not a common man's life. 
 His world was not the hard, work-day world 
 the groundlings live in ; he moved in a sphere 
 of poetry ; he lived amidst the ideal and ro- 
 mantic. Not that he was not practical enough, 
 when he chose to be ; by no means. He 
 bought goods and chattels, lands and tene-
 
 OVID BOLUS, ESQ. 1 23 
 
 merits, like other men ; but he got them under 
 a state of poetic illusion, and paid for them in 
 an imaginary way. Even the titles he gave 
 were not of the earthy sort — they were some- 
 times clouded. He gave notes, too, — how well 
 I know it ! — like other men ; he paid them like 
 himself. 
 
 How well he asserted the Spiritual over the 
 Material ! How he delighted to turn an ab- 
 stract idea into concrete cash — to make a few 
 blots of ink, representing a little thought, turn 
 out a labor-saving machine, and bring into his 
 pocket money which many days of hard ex- 
 hausting labor would not procure ! What 
 pious joy it gave him to see the days of the 
 good Samaritan return, and the hard hand of 
 avarice relax its grasp on land and negroes, 
 pork and clothes, beneath the soft speeches and 
 kind promises of future rewards — blending in 
 the act the three cardinal virtues. Faith, Hope, 
 and Charity ; while, in the result, the chief of 
 these three was Charity I 
 
 There was something sublime in the idea — 
 this elevating the spirit of man to its true and 
 primeval dominion over things of sense and 
 grosser matter. 
 
 It is true, that in these practical romances,
 
 124 JOSEPH G. BALDWIN. 
 
 Bolus was charged with a defective taste in re- 
 peating himself. The justice of the charge 
 must be, at least, partially acknowledged ; this 
 I know from a client, to whom Ovid sold a 
 tract of land after having sold it twice before : 
 I cannot say, though, that his forgetting to 
 mention this circumstance made any difference, 
 for Bolus originally had no title. 
 
 There was nothing narrow, sectarian, or sec- 
 tional in Bolus's lying. It was on the contrary 
 broad and catholic. It had no respect to times 
 or places. It was as wide and illimitable as 
 elastic, and variable as the air he spent in giv- 
 ing it expression. It was a generous, gentle- 
 manly, whole-souled faculty. It was often 
 employed on occasions of thrift ; but no more, 
 and no more zealously on these than on others 
 of no profit to himself. He was an Egotist, 
 but a magnificent one ; he was not a liar be- 
 cause an egotist, but an egotist because a liar. 
 He usually made himself the hero of the ro- 
 mantic exploits and adventures he narrated ; 
 but this was not so much to exalt himself, as 
 because it was more convenient to his art. 
 He had nothing malignant or invidious in 
 his nature. If he exalted himself, it was sel- 
 dom or never to the disparagement of others,
 
 OVID BOLUS, ESQ. 1 25 
 
 unless, indeed, those others were merely im- 
 aginary persons, or too far off to be hurt. 
 He would as soon lie for you as for himself. 
 It was all the same, so there was something 
 doing in his line of business, except in those 
 cases in which his necessities required to be fed 
 at your expense. 
 
 He did not confine himself to mere lingual 
 lying : one tongue was not enough for all the 
 business he had on hand. He acted lies as 
 well. Indeed, sometimes his very silence was 
 a lie. He made nonentity fib for him, and per- 
 formed wondrous feats by a " masterly inac- 
 tivity." 
 
 Th.Q personnel oi this distinguished Votary of 
 the Muse was happily fitted to his art. He 
 was strikingly handsome. There was some- 
 thing in his air and bearing almost princely, 
 certainly quite distinguished. His manners 
 were winning, his address frank, cordial, and 
 flowing. He was built after the model and 
 structure of Bolingbroke in his youth, American- 
 ized and Hoosierized a little by " raising in," and 
 an adaptation to, the Backwoods. He was 
 fluent but choice of diction, a little sonorous in 
 the structure of his sentences to give effect to a 
 voice like an organ. His countenance was
 
 126 JOSEPH G. BALDWIN. 
 
 open and engaging, usually sedate of expres- 
 sion, but capable of any modifications at the 
 shortest notice. Add to this his intelligence, 
 shrewdness, tact, humor, and that he was a 
 ready debater and elegant dcclaimcr, and had 
 the gift of bringing out, to the fullest extent, 
 his resources, and you may see that Ovid, in a 
 new country, was a man apt to make no mean 
 impression. He drew the loose population 
 around him, as the magnet draws iron filings. 
 He was a man for the " boys," — then a numer- 
 ous and influential class. His generous profu- 
 sion and free-handed manner impressed them 
 as the bounty of Caesar the loafing commonalty 
 of Rome : Bolus was no niggard. He never 
 higgled or chaffered about small things. He 
 was as free with his own money — if he ever had 
 any of his own — as with yours. If he never 
 paid borrowed money, he never asked payment 
 of others. If you wished him to lend you any, 
 he would give you a handful without counting 
 it : if you handed him any, you were losing 
 time in counting it, for you never saw any 
 thing of it again ; Shallow's funded debt on 
 Falstaff were as safe an investment : this would 
 have been an equal commerce, but, unfortu- 
 nately for Bolus's friends, the proportion be-
 
 OVID BOLUS, ESQ. 12/ 
 
 tween his disbursements and receipts was 
 something scant. Such a spendthrift never 
 made a track even in the flush times of 1836. 
 It took as much to support him as a first-class 
 steamboat. His bills at the groceries were as 
 long as John Q. Adams's Abolition Petition, or, 
 if pasted together, would have matched the 
 great Chartist memorial. He would as soon 
 treat a regiment or charter the grocery for the 
 day, as any other way ; and after the crowd had 
 heartily drank — some of them " laying their 
 souls in soak," — if he did not have the money 
 convenient — as when did he ? — he would fumble 
 in his pocket, mutter something about nothing 
 less than a $100 bill, and direct the score, with 
 a lordly familiarity, to be charged to his ac- 
 count. 
 
 Ovid had early possessed the faculty of 
 ubiquity. He had been born in more places 
 than Homer. In an hour's discourse, //^ would, 
 with more than the speed of Ariel, travel at 
 every point of the compass, from Portland to 
 San Antonio, some famous adventure always 
 occurring just as he " rounded to," or while 
 stationary, though he did not remain longer 
 than to see it. He was present at every im- 
 portant debate in the Senate at Washington,
 
 128 JOSEPH G. BALD IV IN. 
 
 and had heard every popuhir speaker on the 
 hustings, at the bar, and in the pulpit, in the 
 United States. He had been concerned in 
 many important causes with Grymes and 
 against Mazereau in New Orleans, and had 
 borne no small share in the fierce forensic 
 battles, which, with singular luck, he and 
 Gr>'mes always won in the courts of the Cres- 
 cent City. And such frolics as they had when 
 they laid aside their heavy armor, after the 
 heat and burden of the day! Such gambling! 
 A negro a7ite and twenty on the call, was 
 moderate playing. What lots of " Ethiopian 
 captives " and other plunder /ir raked down 
 vexed Arithmetic to count and credulity to 
 believe ; and, had it not been for Bolus's 
 generosity in giving " tiie boys" a chance 
 to win back by doubling off on tJie JiigJi hand, 
 there is no knowing what changes of owners 
 would not have occurred in the Rapides or 
 on the German coast. 
 
 The Florida war and tlic Texas revolution, 
 had each furnished a brilliant theatre for Ovid's 
 chivalrous emprise. Jack Hays and he were 
 great chums. Jack and he had many a hearty 
 laugh over tlie odd trick of Ovid, in lassoing 
 a Camanche chief, while galloping a stolen
 
 OVID BOLUS, ESQ. 1 29 
 
 horse bare-backed, up the San Saba hills. But 
 he had the rig on Jack again, when he made 
 him charge on a brood of about twenty Ca- 
 manches, who had got into a mote of timber 
 in the prairies, and were shooting their arrows 
 from the covert, while Ovid, with a six-bar- 
 relled rifle, was taking them on the wing as 
 Jack rode in and flushed them ! 
 
 It was an affecting story and feelingly told, 
 that of his and Jim Bowie's rescuing an Am- 
 erican girl from the Apaches, and returning 
 her to her parents in St. Louis ; and it would 
 have been still more tender, had it not been 
 for the unfortunate necessity Bolus was un- 
 der of shooting a brace of gay lieutenants on 
 the border, one frosty morning, before breakfast, 
 back of the fort, for taking unbecoming liberties 
 with the fair damosel, the spoil of his bow and 
 spear. 
 
 But the girls Ovid courted, and the miraculous 
 adventures he had met with in love, beggared, 
 by the comparison, all the fortune of war had 
 done for him. Old Nugent's daughter, Sallie, 
 was his narrowest escape. Sallie was accom- 
 plished to the romantic extent of two ocean 
 steamers, and four blocks of buildings in Bos- 
 ton, separated only from immediate " percep-
 
 130 JOSEPH G. BALDWIN. 
 
 tion and pernancy," by the contingency of old 
 Nugcnt's recovering from a confirmed dropsy, 
 for which he had twice been ineffectually tapped. 
 The day was set — the presents made — superb 
 of course — the guests invited : the old Sea Cap- 
 tain insisted on Bolus's setting his negroes free, 
 and taking five thousand dollars apiece for the 
 loss. Bolus's love for the ** peculiar institu- 
 tion " would n't stand it. Rather than submit 
 to such degradation, Ovid broke off the match, 
 and left Sallic broken-hearted ; a disease from 
 which she did not recover until about six 
 months afterwards, when she ran off with the 
 mate of her father's ship, the Sea Serpent, in 
 the Rio trade. 
 
 Gossip and personal anecdote were the espe- 
 cial subjects of Ovid's elocution. lie was in- 
 timate with all the notabilities of the political 
 circles. Me was a privileged visitor of the po- 
 litical green-room. He was admitted back into 
 the laboratory where the political thunder was 
 manufactured, and into the office where the 
 magnetic wires were worked. lie knew the 
 origin of every party question and movement, 
 and had a finger in every pie the party cooks 
 of Tammany baked for the body politic. 
 
 One thing in Ovid I can never forgive. This
 
 OVJD BOLUS, ESQ. 13I 
 
 was his coming it over poor Ben. I don't ob- 
 ject to it on the score of the swindle. That 
 was to have been expected. But swindHng 
 Ben was degrading the dignity of the art. 
 True, it illustrated the universality of his sci- 
 ence, but it lowered it to a beggarly process 
 of mean deception. There was no skill in it. 
 It was little better than crude larceny. A child 
 could have done it ; it had as well been done to 
 a child. It was like catching a cow with a 
 lariat, or setting a steel trap for a pet pig. 
 True, Bolus had nearly practised out of cus- 
 tom. He had worn his art threadbare. Men, 
 who could afford to be cheated, had all been 
 worked up or been scared away. Besides, Frost 
 could n't be put off. He talked of money in a 
 most ominous connection with blood. The 
 thing could be settled by a bill of exchange. 
 Ben's name was unfortunately good — the 
 amount some $1,600. Ben had a fine tract 
 
 of land in S r. He has not got it now. 
 
 Bolus only gave Ben one wrench — that was 
 enough. Ben never breathed easy afterwards. 
 All the V's and X's of ten years' hard practice, 
 went in that penful of ink. Fie ! Bolus, Mon- 
 roe Edwards would n't have done that. He 
 would sooner have sunk down to the level of
 
 JOSEPH G. BALDWIN. 
 
 some honest calling for a living, than have put 
 his profession to so mean a shift. I can con- 
 ceive of but one extenuation : Bolus was on 
 the lift for Texas, and the desire was natural 
 to qualify himself for citizenship. 
 
 The genius of Bolus, strong in its unassisted 
 strength, yet gleamed out more brilliantly 
 under the genial influence of " the rosy." With 
 boon companions and " reaming swats," it was 
 worth while to hear him of a winter evening. 
 He could "clothe the palpable and the familiar 
 with golden exhalations of the dawn." The 
 most common-place objects became dignified. 
 There was a history to the commonest articles 
 about him ; that book was given him by Mr. 
 Van Buren — the walking stick was a present 
 from Gen. Jackson; the thrice-watered Monon- 
 gahela, just drawn from the grocery hard by, 
 was the last of a distillation of 1825, smuggled 
 in from Ireland, and presented to him by a 
 friend in New Orleans, on easy terms with the 
 collector ; the cigars, not too fragrant, were of 
 a bo-x sent him by a schoolmate from Cuba, in 
 1834 — before he visited the Island. And talk- 
 ing of Cuba — he had met with an adventure 
 there, the impression of which never could be 
 effaced from his mind. He had gone, at the
 
 OVID BOLUS, ESQ. I 33 
 
 instance of Don Carlos y Cubanos, (an intimate 
 classmate in a Kentucky Catholic College,) 
 whose life he had saved from a mob in Louis- 
 ville, at the imminent risk of his own. The 
 Don had a sister of blooming sixteen, the 
 least of whose charms was two or three coffee 
 plantations, some hundreds of slaves, and a 
 suitable garnish of doubloons, accumulated 
 during her minority, in the hands of her uncle 
 and guardian, the Captain-General. All went 
 well with the young lovers — for such, of course, 
 they were — until Bolus,with his usual frank indis- 
 cretion, in a conversation with the Priest avowed 
 himself a Protestant. Then came trouble. 
 Every effort was made to convert him ; but 
 Bolus's faith resisted the eloquent tongue of the 
 Priest, and the more eloquent eyes of Donna 
 Isabella. The brother pleaded the old friend- 
 ship — urged a seeming and formal conformity 
 — the Captain-General argued the case like a 
 politician — the Sefiorita like a warm and devoted 
 woman. All would not do. The Captain-Gen- 
 eral forbade his longer sojourn on the Island. 
 Bolus took leave of the fair Sefiorita ; the part- 
 ing interview, held in the orange bower, was 
 affecting ; Donna Isabella, with dishevelled 
 hair, threw herself at his feet ; the tears
 
 134 JOSEPH G. BALDWIN. 
 
 Streamed from her eyes ; in liquid tones, broken 
 by grief, she implored him to relent, reminded 
 him of her love, of her trust in him. " Gentle- 
 men," Bolus continued, " I confess to the 
 weakness — I wavered — but then my eyes hap- 
 pened to fall on the breast-pin with a lock of 
 my mother's hair — I recovered my courage ; I 
 shook her gently from me. I felt my last hold 
 on earth was loosened — my last hope of peace 
 destroyed. Since that hour, my life has been a 
 burden. Yes, gentlemen, you see before you a 
 broken-hearted man — a martyr to his Religion. 
 But, away with these melancholy thoughts ! 
 boys, pass around the jorum." And wiping his 
 eyes, he drowned the wasting sorrow in a long 
 draught of the poteen ; and, being much re- 
 freshed, was able to carry the burden on a little 
 further, — videlicet, to the next lie. 
 
 It must not be supposed that Bolus was des- 
 titute of the tame virtue of prudence — or that 
 this was confined to the avoidance of the im- 
 provident habit of squandering his money in 
 paying old debts. He took reasonably good 
 care of his person. He avoided all unnecessary 
 exposures, chiefly from a patriotic desire, prob- 
 ably, of continuing his good offices to his coun- 
 try. Mis recklessness was, for the most part,
 
 OVID BOLUS, ESQ. 1 35 
 
 lingual. To hear him talk, one might suppose 
 he held his carcass merely for a target to try 
 guns and knives upon ; or that the business of 
 his life was to draw men up to ten paces or less, 
 for sheer improvement in marksmanship. Such 
 exploits as he had gone through with, dwarfed 
 the heroes of romance to very pigmy and sneak- 
 ing proportions. Pistol at the Bridge, when he 
 bluffed at honest Fluellen, might have envied 
 the swash-buckler airs Ovid would sometimes 
 put on. But I never could exactly identify the 
 place he had laid out for his burying-ground. 
 Indeed, I had occasion to know that he de- 
 clined to understand several not very ambigu- 
 ous hints, upon which he might, with as good a 
 grace as Othello, have spoken, not to mention 
 one or two pressing invitations which his mod- 
 esty led him to refuse. I do not know that 
 the base sense of fear had any thing to do with 
 these declinations ; possibly he might have 
 thought he had done his share of fighting, and 
 did not wish to monopolize ; or his principles 
 forbade it — I mean those which opposed his 
 paying a debt ; knowing he could not cheat 
 that inexorable creditor, Death, of his claim, he 
 did the next thing to it ; which was to delay 
 and shirk payment as long as possible.
 
 136 JOSEPH G. BALDWIN. 
 
 It remains to add a word of criticism on this 
 great Lyx\z artist. 
 
 In lying, Bolus was not only a successful, but 
 he was a very able practitioner. Like every 
 other eminent artist, he brought all his faculties 
 to bear upon his art. Though quick of percep- 
 tion and prompt of invention, he did not trust 
 himself to the inspirations of his genius for im- 
 provising a lie, when he could well premeditate 
 one. He deliberately built up the substantial 
 masonry, relying upon the occasion and its 
 accessories, chiefly for embellishment and col- 
 lateral supports ; as Burke excogitated the 
 more solid parts of his great speeches, and left 
 unprepared only the illustrations and fancy- 
 work. 
 
 Bolus's manner was, like every truly great 
 man's, his own. It was excellent. He did not 
 come blushing up to a lie, as some otherwise 
 very passable liars do, as if he were making a 
 mean compromise between his guilty passion 
 or morbid vanity, and a struggling conscience. 
 Bolus had long since settled all disputes with 
 his conscience. He and it were on very good 
 terms — at least, if there was no affection be- 
 tween the couple, there was no fuss in the 
 family; or, if there were any scenes or angry
 
 OVID BOLUS, ESQ. 1 37 
 
 passages, they were reserved for strict privacy 
 and never got out. My own opinion is, that he 
 was as destitute of the article as an ostrich. 
 Thus he came to his work bravely, cheerfully, 
 and composedly. The delights of composition, 
 invention, and narration, did not fluster his 
 style or agitate his delivery. He knew how, in 
 the tumult of passion, to assume the ** temper- 
 ance to give it smoothness." A lie never ran 
 away with him, as it is apt to do with young 
 performers ; he could always manage and guide 
 it ; and to have seen him fairly mounted, would 
 have given you some idea of the polished ele- 
 gance of D'Orsay, and the superb manage of 
 Murat. There is a tone and manner of narra- 
 tion different from those used in delivering ideas 
 just conceived ; just as there is a difference be- 
 tween the sound of the voice in reading and in 
 speaking. Bolus knew this, and practised on 
 it. When he was narrating, he put the facts in 
 order, and seemed to speak them out of his 
 memory ; but not formally, or as if by rote. 
 He would stop himself to correct a date ; recol- 
 lect he was wrong — he was that year at the 
 White Sulphur or Saratoga, etc.; having got the 
 date right, the names of persons present would 
 be incorrect, etc.; and these he corrected in
 
 138 JOSEPH G. BALDWIN. 
 
 turn. A stranger hearing him, would have 
 feared the marring of a good story by too fas- 
 tidious a conscientiousness in the narrator. 
 
 His zeal in pursuit of a lie under difficulties 
 was remarkable. The society around him — if 
 such it could be called — was hardly fitted, with- 
 out some previous preparation, for an immedi- 
 ate introduction to Almack's or the classic 
 precincts of Gore Plouse. The manners of the 
 natives were rather plain than ornate, and can- 
 dor rather than polish predominated in their 
 conversation. Bolus had need of some forbear- 
 ance to withstand the interruptions and cross- 
 examinations with which his revelations were 
 sometimes received. But he possessed this in a 
 remarkable degree. I recollect, on one occasion, 
 when he was giving an account of a providen- 
 tial escape he was signally favored with, (when 
 boarded by a pirate off the Isle of Pines, and he 
 pleaded mason r}', and gave a sign he had got 
 out of the Disclosures of Morgan,) Tom John- 
 son interrupted him to say that he had heard 
 that before (which was more than Bolus had 
 ever done). B. immediately rejoined that he 
 had, he believed, given him, Tom, a running 
 sketch of the incident. " Rather," said Tom, 
 " I think a /j'/;/o- sketch." Bolus scarcely smiled
 
 OVID BOLUS, ESQ. 1 39 
 
 as he replied that Tom was a wag, and could n't 
 help turning the most serious things into jests; 
 and went on with his usual brilliancy to finish 
 the narrative. Bolus did not overcrowd his can- 
 vas. His figures were never confused, and the 
 subordinates and accessories did not withdraw 
 attention from the main and substantive lie. 
 He never squandered his lies profusely ; think- 
 ing, with the poet, that " bounteous, not prodi- 
 gal, is kind Nature's hand," he kept the golden 
 mean between penuriousness and prodigality; 
 never stingy of his lies, he was not wasteful of 
 them, but was rather forehanded than pushed 
 or embarrassed, having, usually, fictitious stock 
 to be freshly put on 'change when he wished to 
 " make a raise." In most of his fables he incul- 
 cated but a single leading idea, but contrived 
 to make the several facts of the narrative fall in 
 very gracefully with the principal scheme. 
 
 The rock on which many promising young 
 liars, who might otherwise have risen to 
 merited distinction, have split, is vanity; this 
 marplot vice betrays itself in the exultation 
 manifested on the occasion of a decided hit, an 
 exultation too inordinate for mere recital, and 
 which betrays authorship ; and to betray author- 
 ship, in the present barbaric moral and intellec-
 
 I40 JOSEPH G. BALDWIN. 
 
 tual condition of the world, is fatal. True, there 
 seems to be some inconsistency here. Dickens 
 and Bulwer can do as much lying, for money, too, 
 as they choose and no one blame them any 
 more than they would blame a lawyer regular- 
 ly fcedio do it ; but let any man, gifted with 
 the same genius, try his hand at it, not delib- 
 erately, and in writing, but merely orally, and 
 ugly names are given him, and he is proscribed. 
 Bolus heroically suppressed exultation over 
 the victories his lies achieved, 
 
 Alas! for the beautiful things of earth, its 
 flowers, its sunsets — its lovely girls — its lies — 
 brief and fleeting arc their date. Lying is a 
 very delicate accomplishment. It must be ten- 
 derly cared for and jealously guarded. It must 
 not be overvvorked. Bolus forgot this salutary 
 caution. The people found out his art. How- 
 ever dull the commons are as to other mat- 
 ters, they get sharp enough after a while to 
 whatever concerns their bread and butter. 
 Bolus, not having confined his art to political 
 matters, sounded at last the depths and explored 
 the limits of popular credulity. The denizens 
 of this degenerate age had not the disinterested- 
 ness of Prince Hal, who " cared not how many 
 fed at his cost"; they got tired at last of
 
 OVID BOLUS, ESQ. I4I 
 
 promises to pay. The credit system, common 
 before as pump water, adhering like the elective 
 franchise to every voter, began to take the 
 worldly wisdom of Falstaff's mercer, and ask 
 security, and security liked something more 
 substantial than plausible promises. In this 
 forlorn condition of the country, returning to 
 its savage state, and abandoning the refine- 
 ments of a ripe Anglo-Saxon civilization for 
 the sordid safety of Mexican or Chinese modes 
 of traffic ; deserting the sweet simplicity of its 
 ancient trustingness and the poetic illusions of 
 Augustus .Tomlinson for the vulgar saws of 
 poor Richard — Bolus, with a sigh like that 
 breathed out by his great prototype after his 
 apostrophe to London, gathered up, one bright 
 moonlight night, his articles of value, shook 
 the dust from his feet, and departed from a 
 land unworthy of his longer sojourn. With 
 that delicate consideration for the feelings of 
 his friends, which, like the politeness of Charles 
 II., never forsook him, he spared them the pain 
 of a parting interview. He left no greetings of 
 kindness, no messages of love, nor did he ask 
 assurances of their Hvely remembrance. It 
 was quite unnecessary. In every house he had 
 left an autograph, in every ledger a souvenir.
 
 142 JOSEPH G. BALDWIN. 
 
 They will never forget him. Their connection 
 with him will be ever regarded as 
 
 ' ' The greenest spot 
 
 In nienior)''s waste." 
 
 Poor Ben, whom he had honored with the 
 last marks of his confidence, can scarcely speak 
 of him to this day, without tears in his eyes. 
 Far away towards the setting sun he hied him, 
 until, at last, with a hermit's disgust at the deg- 
 radation of the world, like Ignatius turned 
 monk, he pitched his tabernacle amidst the 
 smiling prairies that sleep in vernal beauty, in 
 the shadow of the San Saba mountains. 
 There let his mighty genius rest. It has earned 
 repose. We leave Themistocles to his volun- 
 tary exile. — TJie Flush Times of Alabama and 
 Mississippi.
 
 FREDERICK WILLIAM SHELTON. 
 
 (born 1815 — DIED 188I.) 
 
 INCIDENTS IN A RETIRED LIFE. 
 
 LAST year I had a solitary peach upon a 
 soHtary tree, for the early frost frustra- 
 ted the delicious crop. This only one, which, 
 from its golden color, might be entitled El 
 Dorado, I watched with fear and trembling 
 from day to day, patiently waiting for the iden- 
 tical time when I should buoy it up carefully 
 in my hand, that its pulp should not be bruised, 
 tear off its thin peel, admonished that the time 
 had come by a gradual releasing of the fruit 
 from its adhesion to the stem, and I appointed 
 the next day for the ceremonial of plucking. 
 The morrow dawned, as bright a day as ever 
 dawned upon the earth, and on a near approach 
 I found it still there, and said, with chuckling 
 gratification," There is some delicacy in thieves." 
 Alas ! on reaching it, somebody had taken a 
 large bite out of the ripest cheek, but with a sac- 
 
 143
 
 144 FREDERICK WILLIAM SHELTOX. 
 
 rilegious witticism had left it sticking to the 
 stem. The detestable prints of the teeth which 
 bit it were still in it, and a wasp was gloating 
 at its core. Had he taken the whole peach, I 
 should have vented my feelings in a violence 
 of indignation unsuited to a balmy garden. 
 But as he was joker enough to bite only its 
 sunny side, I must forgive him, as one who has 
 some element of salvation in his character, be- 
 cause he is disposed to look at the bright side 
 of things. What is a peach } A mere globe 
 of succulent and delicious pulp, which I would 
 rather be deprived of than cultivate bad feelings, 
 even towards thieves. Wherever you find 
 rogues whose deeds involve a saline element of 
 wit, make up your mind that they are no 
 rogues. — Up the River. 
 
 This morning the Shanghai hen laid another 
 egg, of a rich brunette complexion, which we 
 took away, and replaced by a common vulgar 
 egg, intending to reserve the Shanghai's in a 
 cool place until the time of incubation. Very 
 much amused was I witli the sequel. The 
 proud and haughty superiority of the breed 
 manifested itself by detecting the cheat and 
 resenting the insult. Shang and Eng flew at 
 the supposititious egg with the utmost indigna-
 
 INCIDENTS IN A RETIRED LITE. 1 45 
 
 tion and picked it to pieces, scratching the rem- 
 nants of the shell from the nest. . . . There 
 is one peculiarity of these fowls which deserves 
 to be mentioned. When I removed mine from 
 the basket, I thought that the worthy donor 
 had clipped their wings to prevent them from 
 flying away, or scaling the hennery. On farther 
 knowledge I have learned that their style and 
 fashion is that of the jacket-sleeve and bob-tail 
 coat. Their eminent domesticity is clearly sig- 
 nified by this, because they cannot get over an 
 ordinary fence, and would not if they could. 
 It is because they have no disposition to do 
 this, that Nature has cropt them of their super- 
 fluous wings, and given them a plumage suit- 
 able to their desires. " Their sober wishes never 
 learn to stray." They often come into the 
 kitchen, but never go abroad to associate with 
 common fowls, but remain at home in dignified 
 retirement. Another thing remarkable and 
 quite renowned about this breed is, the Oriental 
 courtesy and politeness of the cock. If you 
 throw a piece of bread, he waits till the hen 
 helps herself first, and often carries it to her in 
 his own beak. The feathered people in the 
 East, and those not feathered, are far superior 
 to ours ip those elaborate and delightful forms
 
 146 FREDERICK WILLIAM SI I ELTON. 
 
 of manner which add a charm and zest to life. 
 This has been from the days of Abraham until 
 now. There are no common people in these 
 realms. All are polite, and the very roosters 
 illustrate the best principles laid down in any 
 book of etiquette. Book of Etiquette ! What 
 is conventionalism without the in-born sense ? 
 Can any man or beast be taught to be mechani- 
 cally polite ? Not at all : not at all ! . . . 
 
 I have received a present of a pair of Cochin- 
 Chinas, a superb cock and a dun-colored hen. 
 I put them with my other fowls in the cellar, to 
 protect them for a short time from the severity 
 of the weather. My Shanghai rooster had for 
 several nights been housed up ; for on one occa- 
 sion, when the cold was snapping, he was dis- 
 covered under the lee of a stone wall, standing 
 on one leg, taking no notice of the approach 
 of any one, and nearly gone. When brought 
 in, he backed up against the red-hot kitchen- 
 stove, and burnt his tail off. Before this he had 
 no feathers in the rear to speak of, and now he 
 is bob-tailed indeed. Anne sewed upon him a 
 jacket of carpet, and put him in a tea-box for 
 the night ; and it was ludicrous on the next 
 morning to sec him lifting up his head above 
 the square prison-box, and crowing lustily to
 
 INCIDENTS IN A RETIRED LIFE. 1 47 
 
 greet the day. But before breakfast-time he 
 had a dreadful fit. He retreated against the 
 wall, he fell upon his side, he kicked, and he 
 "carried on"; but when the carpet was taken 
 off, he came to himself, and ate corn with a vora- 
 cious appetite. His indisposition was, no doubt, 
 occasioned by a rush of blood to the head from 
 the tightness of the bandages. When Shanghai 
 and Cochin met together in the cellar, they 
 enacted in that dusky hole all the barbarities of 
 a profane cockpit. I heard a sound as if from 
 the tumbling of barrels, followed by a dull, 
 thumping noise, like spirit-rappings, and went 
 below, where the first object which met my eye 
 was a mouse creeping along the beam out of 
 an excavation in my pine-apple cheese. As for 
 the fowls, instead of salutation after the re- 
 spectful manner of their country — which is 
 expressed thus : Shang knocks knees to Cochin, 
 bows three times, touches the ground, and 
 makes obeisance — they were engaged in a 
 bloody fight, unworthy of celestial poultry. 
 With their heads down, eyes flashing, and red 
 as vipers, and with a feathery frill or ruffle 
 about their necks, they were leaping at each 
 other, to see who should hold dominion over 
 the ash-heap. It put me exactly in mind of
 
 148 FREDERICK WILLIAM SH ELTON. 
 
 two Scythians or two Greeks in America, where 
 each wished to be considered the only Scythian 
 or only Greek in the country. A contest 
 or emulation is at all times highly animating 
 and full of zest, whether two scholars write, 
 two athletes strive, two boilers strain, or two 
 cocks fight. Every lazy dog in the vicinity is 
 immediately at hand. I looked on until I saw 
 the Shanghai's peepers darkened, and his comb 
 streaming with blood. These birds contended 
 for some days after for pre-eminence, on the 
 lawn, and no flinching could be observed on 
 either part, although the Shanghai was by one- 
 third the smaller of the two. At last the latter 
 was thoroughly mortified ; his eyes wavered and 
 wandered vaguely, as he stood opposite the foe ; 
 he turned tail and ran. From that moment he 
 became the veriest coward, and submitted to 
 every indignity without attempting to resist. 
 He suffered himself to be chased about the 
 lawn, fled from the Indian meal, and was almost 
 starved. Such submission on his part at last 
 resulted in peace, and the two rivals walked 
 side by side without fighting, and ate together, 
 with a mutual concession, of the corn. This, 
 in turn, engendered a degree of presumption 
 on the part of the Shanghai cock; and one
 
 INCIDENTS IN A RETIRED LIFE. 1 49 
 
 day, when the dew sparkled and the sun shone 
 peculiarly bright, he so far forgot himself as to 
 ascend a hillock and venture on a tolerably 
 triumphant crow. It showed a lack of judg- 
 ment ; his cock-a-doodle-doo proved fatal. 
 Scarcely had he done so, when Cochin-China 
 rushed upon him, tore out his feathers, and 
 flogged him so severely that it was doubtful 
 whether he would remain with us. Now, alas ! 
 he presents a sad spectacle : his comb frozen 
 off, his tail burnt off, and his head knocked to 
 a jelly. While the corn jingles in the throats 
 of his compeers when they eagerly snap it, as 
 if they were eating from a pile of shilling pieces 
 or fi'-penny bits, he stands aloof and grubs in 
 the ground. How changed ! — Up the River.
 
 THOMAS BANGS THORPE. 
 
 (born I815 — DIED 1878.) 
 
 A "HOOSIER" IN SEARCH OF JUSTICE. 
 
 ABOUT one hundred and twenty miles 
 from New Orleans reposes, in all rural 
 happiness, one of the plcasantest little towns in 
 the South, that reflects itself in the mysterious 
 waters of the Mississippi. 
 
 To the extreme right of the town, looking at 
 it from the river, may be seen a comfortable- 
 looking building, surrounded by China trees; 
 just such a place as sentimental misses dream 
 of when they have indistinct notions of " set- 
 tling in the world." 
 
 This little " burban bandbox," however, is not 
 occupied by the airs of love, nor the airs of the 
 lute, but by a strong limb of the law, a gnarled 
 one too, who knuckles down to business, and 
 digs out of the " uncertainties of his profession" 
 decisions, and reasons, and causes, and effects, 
 nowhere to be met with, except in the science 
 
 150
 
 A HOOSIER IN SEARCH OF JUSTICE. 151 
 
 called, par excellence, the " perfection of human 
 reason." 
 
 Around the interior walls of this romantic- 
 looking placemay befound an extensive library, 
 where all the " statutes," from Moses' time 
 down to the present day, are ranged side by 
 side ; in these musty books the owner revels 
 day and night, digesting " digests," and grow- 
 ing the while sallow, with indigestion. 
 
 On the evening-time of a fine summer's day, 
 the sage lawyer might have been seen walled 
 in with books and manuscripts, his eye full of 
 thought, and his bald high forehead sparkling 
 with the rays of the setting sun, as if his genius 
 was making itself visible to the senses ; page 
 after page he searched, musty parchments were 
 scanned, an expression of care and anxiety in- 
 dented itself on the stern features of his face, 
 and with a sigh of despair he desisted from his 
 labors, uttering aloud his feelings that he feared 
 his case was a hopeless one. 
 
 Then he renewed again his mental labor with 
 tenfold vigor, making the very silence, with 
 which he pursued his thoughts, ominous, as if a 
 spirit were in his presence. 
 
 The door of the lawyer's office opened, there 
 pressed forward the tall, gaunt figure of a man,
 
 152 THOMAS BANGS THORPE. 
 
 a perfect model of physical power and endur- 
 ance — a Western flatboatman. The lawyer 
 heeded not his presence, and started, as if from 
 a dream, as the harsh tones of inquiry, grated 
 upon his ear, of, 
 
 " Does a 'Squire live here ? " 
 
 " They call me so," was the reply, as soon as 
 he had recovered from his astonishment. 
 
 " Well, 'Squire," continued the intruder, " I 
 have got a case for you, and I want jestess, if 
 it costs the best load of produce that ever come 
 from In-di-an." 
 
 The man of the law asked what was the diffi- 
 culty. 
 
 " It 's this, 'Squire : I 'm bound for Or- 
 leans, and put in here for coffee and other little 
 fixins ; a chap with a face whiskered up like a 
 prarie dog, says, says he, 
 
 " ' Stranger, I see you 'vc got cocks on board 
 of your boat — bring one ashore, and I '11 pit one 
 against him that '11 lick his legs off in less time 
 than you could gaff him.' Well, 'Squire, / 
 never take a dar. Says I, ' Stranger, I 'm thar 
 at wunce*; and in twenty minutes the cocks 
 were on the levee, like parfect saints. 
 
 " We chucked them together, and my bird, 
 'Squire, now mind, 'Squire, my bird never
 
 J HOOSIER IN- SEARCH OF JUSTICE. 1 53 
 
 struck a lick, not a single blow, but tuck to his 
 heels and run, and by thunder, threw up his 
 feed, actewelly vomited. The stakeholder gave 
 up the money agin me, and now I want jestess ; 
 as sure as fogs, my bird was physicked, or he 'd 
 stood up to his business like a wild cat." 
 
 The lawyer heard the story with patience, but 
 flatly refused to have any thing to do with the 
 matter. 
 
 " Prehaps," said the boatman, drawing out a 
 corpulent pocket-book, " prehaps you think I 
 can't pay — here 's the money ; help yourself — ■ 
 give me jestess, and draw on my purse like an 
 ox team." 
 
 To the astonishment of the flatboatman, the 
 lawyer still refused, but unlike many of his pro- 
 fession, gave his would-be client, without charge, 
 some general advice about going on board of his 
 boat, shoving off for New Orleans, and abandon- 
 ing the suit altogether. 
 
 The flatboatman stared with profound as- 
 tonishment, and asked the lawyer, "if he was 
 a sure enough ' Squire." 
 
 Receiving an affirmative reply, he pressed 
 every argument he could use, to have him 
 undertake his case and get him "jestess," but 
 when he found that his efforts were unavailing.
 
 154 THOMAS BANGS THORPE. 
 
 he quietly seated himself for the first time, put 
 his hat aside, — crossed his legs, — then looking 
 up to the ceiling with an expression of great 
 patience, he requested the "'Squire, to read 
 to him the Louisiana laws on cock-fighting." 
 
 The lawyer said that he did not know of a 
 single statute in the State upon the subject. 
 The boatman started up as if he had been shot, 
 exclaiming — 
 
 " No laws in the State on cock-fighting? No, 
 no, ' Squire, you can 't possum me ; give us the 
 law." 
 
 The refusal again followed ; the astonishment 
 of the boatman increased, and tiirowing himself 
 in a comico-hcroic attitude, he waved his long 
 fingers around the sides of the room, and 
 asked, 
 
 " What all them thar books were about } " 
 
 "All about the law." 
 
 " Well, then, ' Squire, am I to understand 
 that not one of them thar books contain a 
 single law on cock-fighting?" 
 
 "You are." 
 
 "And, 'Squire, am I to understand that thar 
 ain't no laws in Louisiana on cock-fighting?" 
 
 " You are." 
 
 " And am I to understand that you call your-
 
 A HOOSIER IN SEARCH OF JUSTICE. I 55 
 
 self a ' Squire, and that you don't know any 
 thing about cock-fighting ? " 
 
 " You are." 
 
 The astonishment of the boatman at this re- 
 ply for a moment was unbounded, and then 
 suddenly ceased ; the awe with which he looked 
 upon " the ' Squire " also ceased, and resuming 
 his natural awkward and familiar carriage, he 
 took up his hat, and walking to the door, with 
 a broad grin of supreme contempt in his face, he 
 observed, — 
 
 " That a ' Squire that did not know the laws 
 of cock-fighting, in his opinion, was distinctly 
 an infernal old chuckel-headed fool!" — The 
 Hive of the Bee-hunter.
 
 JOHN GODFREY SAXE. 
 
 (born i8i6.) 
 
 THE COQUETTE — A PORTRAIT. 
 
 " '^ ^OU 'RE clever at drawing, I own," 
 j[ Said my beautiful cousin Lisette, 
 As we sat by the window alone, 
 
 " But say, can you paint a Coquette ? " 
 
 " She 's painted already," quoth I ; 
 
 " Nay, nay ! " said the laughing Lisette, 
 " Now none of your joking, — but try 
 
 And paint me a thorough Coquette." 
 
 " Well, cousin," at once I began 
 In the ear of the eager Lisette, 
 
 " I '11 paint you as well as I can. 
 That wonderful thing, a Coquette. 
 
 " She wears a most beautiful face," 
 (" Of course," said the pretty Lisette,) 
 
 " And is n't deficient in grace. 
 Or else she were not a Coquette. 
 
 156
 
 THE COQUETTE. I 57 
 
 " And then she is daintily made " 
 (A smile from the dainty Lisette,) 
 
 " By people expert in the trade 
 Of forming a proper Coquette. 
 
 " She 's the winningest ways with the beaux," 
 (" Go on ! " said the winning Lisette,) 
 
 " But there is n't a man of them knows 
 The mind of the fickle Coquette ! 
 
 " She knows how to weep and to sigh," 
 (A sigh from the tender Lisette,) 
 
 " But her weeping is all in my eye, — 
 Not that of the cunning Coquette ! 
 
 " In short, she 's a creature of art," 
 
 (" O hush ! " said the frowning Lisette,) 
 
 " With merely the ghost of a heart, — 
 Enough for a thorough Coquette. 
 
 " And yet I could easily prove " 
 
 (" Now don't ! " said the angry Lisette,) 
 
 " The lady is always in love, — 
 
 In love with herself, — the Coquette ! 
 
 *' There, — do not be angry ! — you know, 
 
 My dear little cousin Lisette, 
 You told me a moment ago. 
 
 To paint /^« — a thorough Coquette I "
 
 JAMES THOMAS FIELDS. 
 
 (born, i3i6 — DIED, 1881.) 
 
 THE PKTTIISONE LINEAGE. 
 
 MY name is Esek Pettibone, and I wish 
 to affirm in the outset that it is a 
 good thing to be well-born. In thus connecting 
 the mention of my name with a positive state- 
 ment, I am not unaware that a catastrophe lies 
 coiled up in the juxtaposition. But I cannot 
 help writing plainly that I am still in favor of a 
 distinguished family-tree. EsTO PERPETUA ! 
 To have had somebody for a great-grandfather 
 that was somebody is exciting. To be able to 
 look back on long lines of ancestry that were 
 rich, but respectable, seems decorous and all 
 right. The present Earl of Warwick, I think, 
 must have an idea that strict justice has been 
 done him in the way of being launched properly 
 into the world. I saw the Duke of Newcastle 
 once, and as the farmer in Conway described 
 Mount Washington, I thought the Duke felt a 
 
 158
 
 THE PETTIBONE LINEAGE. I 59 
 
 propensity to " hunch up some." Somehow it 
 is pleasant to look down on the crowd and have 
 a conscious right to do so. 
 
 Left an orphan at the tender age of four 
 years, having no brothers or sisters to prop me 
 round with young affections and sympathies, I 
 fell into three pairs of hands, excellent in their 
 way, but peculiar. Patience, Eunice, and Mary 
 Ann Pettibone were my aunts on my father's 
 side. All my mother's relations kept shady 
 when the lonely orphan looked about for pro- 
 tection ; but Patience Pettibone, in her stately 
 way, said,—" The boy belongs to a good family, 
 and he shall never want while his three aunts 
 can support him." So I went to live with my 
 plain, but benignant protectors, in the State of 
 New Hampshire. 
 
 During my boyhood, the best-drilled lesson 
 that fell to my keeping was this: " Respect 
 yourself. We come of more than ordinary 
 parentage. Superior blood was probably con- 
 cerned in getting up the Pettibones. Hold 
 your head erect, and some day you shall have 
 proof of your high lineage." 
 
 I remember once, on being told that I must 
 not share my juvenile sports with the butcher's 
 three little beings, I begged to know why not.
 
 l6o JAMES THOMAS FIELDS. 
 
 Aunt Eunice looked at Patience, and Mary Ann 
 knew what she meant. 
 
 " I\Iy child," slowly murmured the eldest 
 sister, " our family no doubt came of a very old 
 stock; perhaps we belong to the nobility. Our 
 ancestors, it is thought, came over laden with 
 honors, and no doubt were embarrassed with 
 riches, though the latter importation has 
 dwindled in the lapse of years. Respect your- 
 self, and when you grow up you will not regret 
 that your old and careful aunt did not wish you 
 to play with the butcher's offspring." 
 
 I felt mortified that I ever had a desire to 
 "knuckle up" with any but kings' sons, or sul- 
 tans' little boys. I longed to be among my 
 equals in the urchin line, and fly my kite with 
 only high-born youngsters. 
 
 Thus I lived in a constant scene of self-en- 
 chantment on the part of the sisters, who as- 
 sumed all the port and feeling that properly 
 belonged to ladies of quality. Patrimonial 
 splendor to come danced before their dim 
 eyes; and handsome settlements, gay equi- 
 pages, and a general grandeur of some sort 
 loomed up in the future for the American 
 branch of the House of Pettibone. 
 
 It was a life of opulent self-delusion, which
 
 THE PETTIBONE LINEAGE. l6l 
 
 my aunts were never tired of nursing ; and I 
 was too young to doubt the reality of it. All 
 the members of our little household held up 
 their heads, as if each said, in so many words, 
 " There is no original sin in our composition, 
 whatever of that commodity there may be mixed 
 up with the common clay of Snowborough." 
 
 Aunt Patience was a star, and dwelt apart. 
 Aunt Eunice looked at her through a de- 
 termined pair of spectacles, and worshipped 
 while she gazed. The youngest sister lived in 
 a dreamy state of honors to come, and had con- 
 stant zoological visions of lions, grififins, and 
 unicorns, drawn and quartered in every possible 
 style known to the Heralds' College. The Rev- 
 erend Hebrew Bullet, who used to drop in 
 quite often and drink several compulsory 
 glasses of home-made wine, encouraged his 
 three parishioners in their aristocratic notions, 
 and extolled them for what he called their 
 " stooping-down to every-day life." He dif- 
 fered with the ladies of our house only on one 
 point. He contended that the unicorn of the 
 Bible and the rhinoceros of to-day were one and 
 the same animal. My aunts held a different 
 opinion. 
 
 In the sleeping-room of my Aunt Patience
 
 1 62 JAMES THOMAS FIELDS. 
 
 reposed a trunk. Often during my childish 
 years I longed to lift the lid and spy among its 
 contents the treasures my young fancy con- 
 jured up as lying there in state. I dared not 
 ask to have the cover raised for my gratifica- 
 tion, as I had often been told I was " too little " 
 to estimate aright what that armorial box con- 
 tained. " When you grow up, you shall see the 
 inside of it," Aunt Mary used to say to mc ; 
 and so I wondered, and wished, but all in vain. 
 I must have the virtue of years before I could 
 view the treasures of past magnificence so long 
 entombed in that wooden sarcophagus. Once 
 I saw the faded sisters bending over the trunk 
 together, and, as I thought, embalming some- 
 thing in camphor. Curiosity impelled mc to 
 linger, but, under some pretext, I was nodded 
 out of the room. 
 
 Although my kinswomen's means were far 
 from ample, they determined that Swiftmouth 
 College should have the distinction of calling 
 me one of her sons, and accordingly I was in 
 due time sent for preparation to a neighboring 
 academy. Years of study and hard fare in 
 country boarding-houses told upon my self- 
 importance as the descendant of a great Eng- 
 lishman, notwithstandingall my letters from the
 
 THE PETTIBONE LINEAGE. 1 63 
 
 honored three came with counsel to " respect 
 myself and keep up the dignity of the family." 
 Growing-up man forgets good counsel. The 
 Arcadia of respectability is apt to give place to 
 the levity of foot-ball and other low-toned ac- 
 complishments. The book of life, at that 
 period, opens readily at fun and frolic, and the 
 insignia of greatness give the school-boy no 
 envious pangs. 
 
 I was nineteen when I entered the hoary 
 halls of Swiftmouth. I call them hoary, be- 
 cause they had been built more than fifty 
 years. To me they seemed uncommonly hoary, 
 and I snuffed antiquity in the dusty purlieus. 
 I now began to study, in good earnest, the 
 wisdom of the past. I saw clearly the value of 
 dead men and mouldy precepts, especially if the 
 former had been entombed a thousand years, 
 and if the latter were well done in sounding 
 Greek and Latin. I began to reverence royal 
 lines of deceased monarchs, and longed to con- 
 nect my own name, now growing into college 
 popularity, with some far-off mighty one who 
 had ruled in pomp and luxury his obsequious 
 people. The trunk in Snowborough troubled 
 my dreams. In that receptacle still slept the 
 proof of our family distinction. " I will go,"
 
 164 JAMES THOMAS FIELDS. 
 
 quoth I, " to the home of my aunts next vaca- 
 tion and there learn Jiow we became mighty, 
 and discover precisely why we don't practise 
 to day our inherited claims to glory." 
 
 I went to Snowborough. Aunt Patience 
 was now anxious to lay before her impatient 
 nephew the proof he burned to behold. But 
 first she must explain. All the old family 
 documents and letters were, no doubt, de- 
 stroyed in the great fire of '98, as nothing in 
 the shape of parchment or paper implying no- 
 bility had ever been discovered in Snowbor- 
 ough, or elsewhere. But there had been 
 preserved, for many years, a suit of imperial 
 clothes that had been worn by their great- 
 grandfather in England, and, no doubt, in the 
 New World also. These garments had been 
 carefully watched and guarded, for were they 
 not the proof that their owner belonged to a 
 station in life second, if second at all, to the 
 royal court of King George itself? Precious 
 casket, into which I was soon to have the privi- 
 lege of gazing ! Through how many long 
 years these fond, foolish virgins had lighted 
 their unflickering lamps of expectation and 
 hope at this cherished old shrine ! 
 
 I was now on my way to the family repository
 
 THE PETTIBONE LINEAGE. 1 65 
 
 of all our greatness. I went up stairs " on the 
 jump." We all knelt down before the well- 
 preserved box ; and my proud Aunt Patience, 
 in a somewhat reverent manner, turned the 
 key. My heart, — I am not ashamed to confess 
 it now, although it is forty years since the 
 quartet, in search of family honors, were on 
 their knees that summer afternoon in Snow- 
 borough, — my heart beat high. I was about to 
 look on that which might be a duke's or an 
 earl's regalia. And I was descended from the 
 owner in a direct line ! I had lately been read- 
 ing Shakspeare's "Titus Andronicus " ; and I 
 remembered, there before the trunk, the lines, — 
 
 ' O sacred receptacle of my joys, 
 Sweet cell of virtue and nobility ! " 
 
 The lid went up, and the sisters began to unroll 
 the precious garments, which seemed all en- 
 shrined in aromatic gums and spices. The odor 
 of that interior lives with me to this day ; and 
 I grow faint with the memory of that hour. 
 With pious precision the clothes were uncov- 
 ered, and at last the whole suit was laid before 
 my expectant eyes. 
 
 Reader ! I am an old man now, and have not 
 long to walk this planet. But, whatever dread-
 
 l66 JAMES THOMAS FIELDS. 
 
 ful shock may be in reserve for my declining 
 years, I am certain I can bear it ; for I went 
 through that scene at Snowborough, and still 
 live ! 
 
 When the garments were fully displayed, all 
 the aunts looked at me. I had been to college ; 
 I had studied Burke's " Peerage " ; I had been 
 once to New York. Perhaps I could immedi- 
 ately name the exact station in noble British 
 life to which that suit of clothes bcloneed. I 
 could ; I saw it all at a glance. I grew flus- 
 tered and pale. I dared not look my poor 
 deluded female relatives in the face. 
 
 " What rank in the peerage do these gold- 
 laced garments and big buttons betoken ? " 
 cried all three. 
 
 " // is a suit of servant' s livery ! " gasped I, 
 and fell back with a shudder. 
 
 That evening, after the sun had gone down, 
 we buried those hateful garments in a ditch at 
 the bottom of the garden. Rest there per- 
 turbed body-coat, yellow trousers, brown gaiters, 
 and all ! 
 
 " Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye ! " 
 
 — Atlantic Monthly, April, 1865. •
 
 FREDERICK S. COZZENS. 
 
 (born, i8i8 — DIED, 1869.) 
 
 THE FAMILY HORSE. 
 
 I HAVE bought me a horse. As I had ob« 
 tained some skill in the manege during 
 my younger days, it was a matter of considera- 
 tion to have a saddle-horse. It surprised me to 
 find good saddle-horses very abundant soon 
 after my consultation with the stage proprietor 
 upon this topic. There were strange saddle- 
 horses to sell almost every day. One man was 
 very candid about his horse : he told me, if his 
 horse had a blemish, he would n't wait to be 
 asked about it ; he would tell it right out ; and, 
 if a man did n't want him then, he need n't 
 take him. He also proposed to put him on 
 trial for sixty days, giving his note for the 
 amount paid him for the horse, to be taken up 
 in case the animal were returned. I asked him 
 what were the principal defects of the horse. 
 He said he 'd been fired once, because they 
 
 167
 
 1 68 FREDEPICK S. COZZENS. 
 
 thought he was spavined ; but there was no 
 more spavin to him than there was to a fresh- 
 laid egg — he was as sound as a dollar. I asked 
 him if he would just state what were the de- 
 fects of the horse. He answered, that he once 
 had the pink-eye, and added, " now that 's 
 honest." I thought so, but proceeded to ques- 
 tion him closely. I asked him if he had the 
 bots. He said, not a bot. I asked him if he 
 would go. He said he would go till he dropped 
 down dead ; just touch liim with a whip, and 
 he '11 jump out of his hide. I inquired how old 
 he was. He answered, just eight years, exact- 
 ly — some men, he said, wanted to make their 
 horses younger than they be ; he was willing 
 to speak right out, and own up he was eight 
 years. I asked him if there were any other 
 objections. He said no, except that he was 
 inclined to be a little gay ; " but," he added, 
 " he is so kind, a child can drive him with a 
 thread." I asked him if he was a good family 
 horse. He replied that no lady that ever drew 
 rein over him would be willing to part with 
 him. Then I asked him his price. He an- 
 swered that no man could have bought him for 
 one hundred dollars a month ago, but now he 
 was willing to sell him for scvcnty-five, on ac-
 
 THE FAMILY HORSE. 1 69 
 
 count of having a note to pay. This seemed 
 such a very low price, I was about saying I 
 would take him, when Mrs. Sparrowgrass whis- 
 pered, that I had better see the horse first. I 
 confess I was a little afraid of losing my bargain 
 by it, but, out of deference to Mrs. S., I did 
 ask to see the horse before I bought him. He 
 said he would fetch him down. " No man," he 
 added, " ought to buy a horse unless he 's saw 
 him." When the horse came down, it struck 
 me that, whatever his qualities might be, his 
 personal appearance was against him. One of 
 his fore legs was shaped like the handle of our 
 punch-ladle, and the remaining three legs, about 
 the fetlock, were slightly bunchy. Besides, he 
 had no tail to brag of ; and his back had a very 
 hollow sweep, from his high haunches to his 
 low shoulder-blades. I was much pleased, how- 
 ever, with the fondness and pride manifested 
 by his owner, as he held up, by both sides of 
 the bridle, the rather longish head of his horse, 
 surmounting a neck shaped like a pea-pod, and 
 said, in a sort of triumphant voice, " three- 
 quarters blood ! " Mrs. Sparrowgrass flushed 
 up a little, when she asked me if I intended to 
 purchase that horse, and added, that, if I did, 
 she would never want to ride. So I told the
 
 I70 FREDERICK S. COZZENS. 
 
 man he would not suit me. He answered by 
 suddenly throwing himself upon his stomach 
 across the back-bone of his horse, and then, by 
 turning round as on a pivot, got up a-straddle 
 of him ; then he gave his horse a kick in the 
 ribs that caused him to jump out with all his 
 legs, like a frog, and then ofT went the spoon- 
 legged animal with a gait that was not a trot, 
 nor yet precisely pacing. He rode around our 
 grass-plot twice, and then pulled his horse's 
 head up like the cock of a musket. " That," 
 said he, " is //;;/^'." I replied that he did seem 
 to go pretty fast. " Pretty fast ! " said his 
 owner. " Well, do you know Mr. ? " men- 
 tioning one of the richest men in our village. 
 I replied that I was acquainted with him. 
 "Well," said he, " you know his horse?" I 
 replied that I had no personal acquaintance 
 with him. " Well," said he, " he 's the fastest 
 horse in the county — jist so — I 'm willin' to 
 admit it. But do you know I offered to put 
 my horse agin' his to trot ? I had no money 
 to put up, or, rayther, to spare ; but I offered 
 to trot him, horse agin' horse, and the winner 
 to take both horses, and I tell you — he would nt 
 do It ! " 
 
 Mrs. Sparrowgrass got a little nervous, and
 
 THE FAMILY HORSE. 171 
 
 twitched me by the skirt of the coat. " Dear," 
 said she, " let him go." I assured her that 
 I would not buy the horse, and told the 
 man firmly I would not buy him. He said 
 very well — if he did n't suit 't was no use to 
 keep a-talkin' : but he added, he *d be down 
 agin' with another horse, next morning, that 
 belonged to his brother; and if he did n't suit 
 me, then I did n't want a horse. With this 
 remark he rode off. . . . 
 
 " It rains very hard," said Mrs. Sparrowgrass, 
 looking out of the window next morning. 
 Sure enough, the rain was sweeping broadcast 
 over the country, and the four Sparrowgrassii 
 were flattening a quartet of noses against the 
 window-panes, believing most faithfully the 
 man would bring the horse that belonged to 
 his brother, in spite of the elements. It was 
 hoping against hope ; no man having a horse to 
 sell will trot him out in a rain-storm, unless he 
 intend to sell him at a bargain — but childhood 
 is so credulous ! The succeeding morning was 
 bright, however, and down came the horse. He 
 had been very cleverly groomed, and looked 
 pleasant under the saddle. The man led him 
 back and forth before the door. " There, 
 'squire, 's as good a hos as ever stood on iron."
 
 1/2 FREDERICK S. COZZENS. 
 
 Mrs. Sparrowgrass asked me what he meant by 
 that. I replied, it was a figurative way of ex- 
 pressing, in horse-talk, that he was as good a 
 horse as ever stood in shoe-leather. " He 's a 
 handsome hos, 'squire," said the man. I re- 
 plied that he did seem to be a good-looking 
 animal ; but, said I, " he does not quite come 
 up to the description of a horse I have read." 
 " Whose hos was it ? " said he. I replied it 
 was the horse of Adonis. He said he did 
 n't know him ; but, he added, " there is so 
 man^ bosses stolen, that the descriptions are 
 stuck up now pretty common." To put him at 
 his ease (for he seemed to think I suspected 
 him of having stolen the horse), I told him the 
 description I meant had been written some hun- 
 dreds of years ago by Shakspeare, and repeated 
 it : 
 
 " Round-hoof t, short-joynted, fetlocks shag and long, 
 
 Broad breast, full eyes, small head, and nostrils wide, 
 Hi^h crest, short ears, straight legs, and ])assing strong, 
 Thin mane, thick tail, broad buttock, tender hide." 
 
 <i '( 
 
 'Squire," said he, " that will do for a song, 
 but it ain't no p'ints of a good hos. Trotters 
 nowadays go in all shapes, big heads and little 
 heads, big eyes and little eyes, short ears or 
 long ears, thick tail and no tail; so as they
 
 THE FAMILY HORSE. 1 73 
 
 have sound legs, good Tin, good barrel, and 
 good stifle, and wind, 'squire, and speed well, 
 they '11 fetch a price. Now, this animal is what 
 I call a hos, 'squire ; he 's got the p'ints, he 's 
 stylish, he 's close-ribbed, a free goer, kind in 
 harness — single or double — a good feeder." I 
 asked him if being a good feeder was a desir- 
 able quality. He replied it was ; " of course," 
 said he, " if your hos is off his feed, he ain't 
 good for nothin'. But what 's the use," he 
 added, " of me tellin' you the p'ints of a good 
 hos ? You 're a hos man, 'squire : you know " — 
 " It seems to me," said I, " there is something 
 the matter with that left eye." "No, sir," 
 said he, and with that he pulled down the 
 horse's head, and, rapidly crooking his fore- 
 finger at the suspected organ, said, " see thar — 
 don't wink a bit." " But he should wink," I 
 replied. " Not onless his eye are weak," he 
 said. To satisfy myself, I asked the man to let 
 me take the bridle. He did so, and, as soon as 
 I took hold of it, the horse started off in a re- 
 markable retrograde movement, dragging me 
 with him into my best bed of hybrid roses. 
 Finding we were trampling down all the best 
 plants, that had cost at auction from three-and- 
 sixpence to seven shillings apiece, and that the
 
 174 FREDERICK S. COZZENS. 
 
 more I pulled, the more he backed, I finally let 
 him have his own way, and jammed him stern- 
 foremost into our largest climbing rose that had 
 been all summer prickling itself, in order to 
 look as much like a vegetable porcupine as pos- 
 sible. This unexpected bit of satire in his rear 
 changed his retrograde movement to a side- 
 long bound, by which he flirted off half the pots 
 on the balusters, upsetting my gladioluses and 
 tube-roses in the pod, and leaving great splashes 
 of mould, geraniums, and red potter}' in the 
 gravel walk. By this time his owner had 
 managed to give him two pretty severe cuts 
 with the whip, which made him unmanageable, 
 so I let him go. We had a pleasant time catch- 
 ing him again, when he got among the Lima- 
 bean poles ; but his owner led him back with a 
 very self-satisfied expression. " Playful, ain't 
 he, 'squire ? " I replied that I thought he was, 
 and asked him if it was usual for his horse to 
 play such pranks. He said it was not. " You 
 see, 'squire, he feels his oats, and hain't been 
 out of the stable for a month. Use him, and 
 he 's as kind as a kitten." With that he put 
 his foot in the stirrup, and mounted. The ani- 
 mal really looked very well as he moved around 
 the grass-plot, and, as Mrs. Sparrowgrass seemed
 
 THE FAMILY HORSE. 1 75 
 
 to fancy him, I took a written guarantee that 
 he was sound, and bought him. What I gave 
 for him is a secret ; I have not even told Mrs. 
 Sparrowgrass. . . . 
 
 We had passed Chicken Island, and the fa- 
 mous house with the stone gable and the one 
 stone chimney, in which General Washington 
 slept, as he made it a point to sleep in every old 
 stone house in Westchester county, and had gone 
 pretty far on the road, past the cemetery, when 
 Mrs. Sparrowgrass said suddenly, " Dear, what 
 is the matter with your horse ? " As I had 
 been telling the children all the stories about 
 the river on the way, I managed to get my head 
 pretty well inside of the carriage, and, at the 
 time she spoke, was keeping a look-out in front 
 with my back. The remark of Mrs. Sparrowgrass 
 induced me to turn about, and I found the new 
 horse behaving in a most unaccountable manner. 
 He was going down hill with his nose almost to 
 the ground, running the wagon first on this side 
 and then on the other. I thought of the re- 
 mark made by the man, and turning again to 
 Mrs. Sparrowgrass, said, " Playful, is n't he ? " 
 The next moment I heard something breaking 
 away in front, and then the Rockaway gave a 
 lurch and stood still. Upon examination I found
 
 176 FREDERICK S. COZZENS. 
 
 the new horse had tumbled down, broken one 
 shaft, gotten the other through the check-rein 
 so as to bring his head up with a round turn, 
 and besides had managed to put one of the 
 traces in a single hitch around his off hind leg. 
 So soon as I had taken all the young ones and 
 Mrs. Sparrowgrass out of the Rockaway, I set 
 to work to liberate the horse, who was choking 
 very fast with the check-rein. It is unpleasant 
 to get your fishing-line in a tangle when you 
 are in a hurry for bites, but I never saw fishing- 
 line in such a tangle as that harness. How- 
 ever, I set to work with a penknife, and cut him 
 out in such a way as to make getting home by 
 our conveyance impossible. When he got up, 
 he was the sleepiest-looking horse I ever saw. 
 " Mrs. Sparrowgrass," said I, " won't you stay 
 here with the children until I go to the nearest 
 farm-house ? " Mrs. Sparrowgrass replied that 
 she would. Then I took the horse with me to 
 get him out of the way of the children, and 
 went in search of assistance. The first thing 
 the new horse did when he got about a quarter 
 of a mile from the scene of the accident, was to 
 tumble down a bank. Fortunately the bank 
 was not over four feet high, but as I went with 
 him, my trowsers were rent in a grievous place.
 
 THE FAMILY HORSE. I 77 
 
 While I was getting the new horse on his feet 
 again, I saw a colored person approaching, who 
 came to my assistance. The first thing he did 
 was to pull out a large jack-knife, and the next 
 thing he did was to open the new horse's 
 mouth and run the blade two or three times 
 inside of the new horse's gums. Then the new 
 horse commenced bleeding. " Dah, sah," said 
 the man, shutting up his jack-knife, " ef 't 
 had n't been for dat yer, yourhos would a' bin a 
 goner." " What was the matter with him ? " 
 said I. " Oh, he 's only jis got de blind-stag- 
 gers, das all. Say," said he, before I was half 
 indignant enough at the man who had sold me 
 such an animal, "say, ain't your name Sparrow- 
 grass ? " I replied that my name was Sparrow- 
 grass. " Oh," said he, " I knows you, I brung 
 some fowls once down to you place. I heerd 
 about you, and your hos. Dats de hos dats got 
 de heaves so bad, heh ! heh ! You better sell 
 dat hos." I determined to take his advice, and 
 employed him to lead my purchase to the 
 nearest place where he would be cared for. 
 Then I went back to the Rockaway, but met 
 Mrs. Sparrowgrass and the children on the road 
 coming to meet me. She had left a man in 
 charge of the Rockaway. When we got to the
 
 778 FREDERICK S. COZZENS. 
 
 Rockaway we found the man missing, also the 
 whip and one cushion. We got another person 
 to take charge of the Rockaway, and had a 
 pleasant walk home by moonlight. I think a 
 moonlight night delicious, upon the Hudson. 
 
 Does any person want a horse at a low price ? 
 A good stylish-looking animal, close-ribbed, 
 good loin, and good stifle, sound legs, with 
 only the heaves and blind-staggers, and a 
 slight defect in one of his eyes ? If at any time 
 he slips his bridle and gets away, you can always 
 approach him by getting on his left side. I 
 will also engage to give a written guarantee 
 that he is sound and kind, signed by the brother 
 of his former owner. — T)ic Sparrowgrass Papers.
 
 HENRY W. SHAW (" Josh Billingsr) 
 
 (born, i8i8 — DIED, 1885.) 
 
 THE MUSKEETER. 
 
 MUSKEETERS are a game bug, but they 
 won't bite at a hook. Thare iz millyuns 
 ov them kaught every year, but not with a 
 hook, this makes the market for them unstiddy, 
 the supply allways exceeding the demand. The 
 muskeeto iz born on the sly, and cums to ma- 
 turity quicker than enny other ov the domestik 
 animiles. A muskeeter at 3 hours old iz just 
 az reddy, and anxious to go into bizzness for 
 himself, az ever he iz, and bites the fust time 
 az sharp, and natral, as red pepper duz. The 
 muskeeter haz a good ear for musik, and sings 
 without notes. The song ov the musketo iz 
 monotonous to sum folks, but in me it stirs up 
 the memorys ov other days. I hav lade awake, 
 all nite long, menny a time and listened to the 
 sweet anthems ov the muskeeter. I am satis- 
 fied that thare want nothing made in vain, but 
 
 179
 
 l8o HENRY //'. SHAW. 
 
 i kant help thinking how mighty kluss the 
 musketozc kum to it. The muskeeter haz in- 
 habited this world since its kreashun, and will 
 probably hang around here until bizzness 
 closes. Whare the muskeeter goes to in the 
 winter iz a standing konumdrum, which all the 
 naturalists hav giv up, but we kno he dont go 
 far, for he iz on hand early each year with liiz 
 probe fresh ground, and polished. Muskeeters 
 must be one ov the luxurys ov life, they cer- 
 tainly aint one ov the necessarys, not if we 
 kno ourselfs. — Farmer s Ahninax, December, 
 1877. 
 
 LAFFING. 
 
 Anatomikally konsidered, lafTing iz the sensa- 
 tion ov pheeling good all over, and showing it 
 principally in one spot. 
 
 Morally konsidered, it iz the next best thing 
 tew the 10 commandments. 
 
 Theoretikally konsidered, it kan out-argy all 
 the logik in existence. 
 
 Pyroteknikally konsidered, it is the fire-works 
 of the soul. . . . 
 
 But i don't intend this essa for laffing in the 
 lump, but for laffing on the half-shell. 
 
 Laffing iz just az natral tew cum tew the
 
 LAFFING. l8l 
 
 surface az a rat iz tew cum out ov hiz hole 
 when he wants tew. 
 
 Yu kant keep it back by swallowing enny 
 more than yu kan the heekups. 
 
 If a man kant laff there iz sum mistake made 
 in putting him together, and if he wont laff he 
 wants az mutch keeping away from az a bear- 
 trap when it iz sot. 
 
 I have seen people who laffed altogether too 
 mutch for their own good or for ennyboddy 
 else's ; they laft like a barrell ov nu sider with 
 the tap pulled out, a perfekt stream. 
 
 This is a grate waste ov natral juice. 
 
 I have seen other people who did n't laff enuff 
 tew giv themselfs vent ; they waz like a barrell 
 ov nu sider too, that waz bunged up tite, apt 
 tew start a hoop and leak all away on the sly. 
 
 Thare ain't neither ov theze 2 ways right, 
 and they never ought tew be pattented. . . . 
 
 Genuine lafifing iz the vent ov the soul, the 
 nostrils of the heart, and iz just az necessary 
 for health and happiness az spring water iz for 
 a trout. 
 
 Thare iz one kind ov a laff that i always did 
 rekommend ; it looks out ov the eye fust with 
 a merry twinkle, then it kreeps down on its 
 hands and kneze and plays around the mouth
 
 l82 HENRY IV. SHAW. 
 
 like a pretty moth around the blaze ov a kandle, 
 then it steals over into the dimples ov the 
 cheeks and rides around into thoze little whirl- 
 pools for a while, then it litcs up the whole face 
 like the mello bloom on a damask rozc, then it 
 swims oph on the air with a peal az klear and 
 az happy az a dinner-bell, then it goes bak agin 
 on golden tiptoze like an angel out for an air- 
 ing, and laze down on its little bed ov violets in 
 the heart where it cum from. 
 
 Thare iz another lafT that nobody kan with- 
 stand ; it iz just az honest and noizy az a dis- 
 trikt skool let out tew play, it shakes a man up 
 from hiz toze tew hiz temples, it dubblcs and 
 twists him like a whiskee phit, it lifts him oph 
 from his cheer, like feathers, and lets him bak 
 agin like melted led, it goes all thru him like a 
 pikpocket, and finally leaves him az weak and 
 az krazy az tho he had bin soaking all day in a 
 Rushing bath and forgot to be took out. 
 
 This kind ov a laff belongs tew jolly good 
 phellows who are az healthy az quakers, and 
 who are az eazy tew pleaze az a gall who iz 
 going tew be married to-morrow. 
 
 In konclushion i say laff every good chance 
 yu kan git, but don't laff unless yu fcal like it, 
 for there ain't nothing in this world more
 
 LAFFING. 183 
 
 harty than a good honest laff, nor nothing 
 more hollow than a hartless one. 
 
 When yu do laff open your mouth wide 
 enuff for the noize tew git out without squeal- 
 ing, thro yure hed bak az tho yu waz going tew 
 be shaved, hold on tew yure false hair with both 
 hands and then laff till yure soul gets thoroly 
 rested. 
 
 But i shall tell yu more about theze things at 
 sum fewter time. — Josh Billings : his works.
 
 JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. 
 (born, 1819.) 
 
 AT SEA. 
 
 THE sea was meant to be looked at from 
 shore, as mountains are from the plain. 
 Lucretius made this discovery long ago, and 
 was blunt enough to blurt it forth, romance and 
 sentiment — in other words, the pretence of 
 feeling what we do not feel — being inventions 
 of a later day. To be sure, Cicero used to 
 twaddle about Greek literature and philosophy, 
 much as people do about ancient art nowa- 
 days ; but I rather sympathize with those stout 
 old Romans who despised both, and believed 
 that to found an empire was as grand an 
 achievement as to build an epic or to carve a 
 statue. But though there might have been 
 twaddle, (as why not, since there was a Sen- 
 ate ?) I rather think Petrarch was the first chor- 
 agus of that sentimental dance which so long led 
 young folks away from the realities of life like the 
 
 184
 
 AT SEA. 185 
 
 piper of Hamelin, and whose succession ended, 
 let us hope, with Chateaubriand. But for 
 them, Byron, whose real strength lay in his 
 sincerity, would never have talked about the 
 " sea bounding beneath him like a steed that 
 knows his rider," and all that sort of thing. 
 Even if it had been true, steam has been as 
 fatal to that part of the romance of the sea as 
 to hand-loom weaving. But what say you to a 
 twelve days' calm such as we dozed through in 
 mid-Atlantic and in mid-August ? I know noth- 
 ing so tedious at once and exasperating as that 
 regular slap of the wilted sails when the ship 
 rises and falls with the slow breathing of the 
 sleeping sea, one greasy, brassy swell following 
 another, slow, smooth, immitigable as the series 
 of Wordsworth's " Ecclesiastical Sonnets." 
 Even at his best, Neptune, in a tite-d-tite, has a 
 way of repeating himself, an obtuseness to the 
 ne quid niutis, that is stupefying. It reminds 
 me of organ-music and my good friend Sebastian 
 Bach. A fugue or two will do very well ; but 
 a concert made up of nothing else is altogether 
 too epic for me. There is nothing so desper- 
 ately monotonous as the sea, and I no longer 
 wonder at the cruelty of pirates. Fancy an ex- 
 istence in which the coming up of a clumsy fin-
 
 I 86 JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. 
 
 back whale, who says Pooli ! to you solemnly as 
 you lean over the taffrail, is an event as excit- 
 ing as an election on shore. The dampness 
 seems to strike into the wits as into the lucifer 
 matches, so that one may scratch a thought half 
 a dozen times and get nothing at last but a faint 
 sputter, the forlorn hope of fire, which only 
 goes far enough to leave a sense of suffocation 
 behind it. Even smoking becomes an employ- 
 ment instead of a solace. Who less likely to 
 come to their wit's end than W. M. T. and A. H. 
 C. ? Yet I have seen them driven to five meals 
 a day for mental occupation. I sometimes sit 
 and pity Noah ; but even he had this advan- 
 tage over all succeeding navigators, that, 
 wherever he landed, he was sure to get no ill 
 news from home. Me should be canonized as 
 the patron-saint of newspaper correspondents, 
 being the only man who ever had the very last 
 authentic intelligence from everywhere. — Fire- 
 side Travels. 
 
 THE CIIIEr MATE. 
 
 My first glimpse of Europe was the shore of 
 Spain. Since wc got into the Mediterranean, 
 we have been becalmed for some days within 
 easy view of it. All along are fine mountains.
 
 THE CHIEF MATE. 1 8/ 
 
 brown all day, and with a bloom on them at 
 sunset like that of a ripe plum. Here and 
 there at their feet little white towns are sprin- 
 kled along the edge of the water, like the grains 
 of rice dropped by the princess in the story. 
 Sometimes we see larger buildings on the 
 mountain slopes, probably convents. I sit and 
 wonder whether the farther peaks may not be 
 the Sierra Morena (the rusty saw) of Don 
 Quixote. I resolve that they shall be, and am 
 content. Surely latitude and longitude never 
 showed me any particular respect, that I should 
 be over-scrupulous with them. 
 
 But after all, Nature, though she may be 
 more beautiful, is nowhere so entertaining as in 
 man, and the best thing I have seen and learned 
 at sea is our Chief Mate. My first acquaint- 
 ance with him was made over my knife, which 
 he asked to look at, and, after a critical examina- 
 tion, handed back to me, saying, " I should n't 
 wonder if that 'ere was a good piece o' 
 stuff." Since then he has transferred a part of 
 his regard for my knife to its owner. I like 
 folks who like an honest bit of steel, and take 
 no interest whatever in "your Raphaels, Cor- 
 reggios, and stuff." There is always more than 
 the average human nature in the man who has
 
 1 88 JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. 
 
 a hearty sympathy with iron. It is a manly 
 metal, with no sordid associations like gold and 
 silver. My sailor fully came up to my expec- 
 tation on further acquaintance. He might well 
 be called an old salt who had been wrecked on 
 Spitzbergen before I was born. He was not an 
 American, but I should never have guessed it 
 by his speech, which was the purest Cape Cod, 
 and I reckon myself a good taster of dialects. 
 Nor was he less Americanized in all his thoughts 
 and feelings, a singular proof of the ease with 
 which our omnivorous country assimilates for- 
 eign matter, provided it be Protestant, for he 
 was a man ere he became an American citizen. 
 He used to walk the deck with his hands in his 
 pockets, in seeming abstraction, but nothing 
 escaped his eye. Hoiv he saw I could never 
 make out, though I had a theory that it was 
 with his elbows. After he had taken me (or 
 my knife) into his confidence, he took care that 
 I should sec whatever he deemed of interest to 
 a landsman. Without looking up, he would 
 say, suddenly, " There 's a whale blowin' clearn 
 up to win'ard," or, " Them 's porpises to lee- 
 ward : that means chinge o' wind." lie is 
 as impervious to cold as a polar bear, and paces 
 the deck during his watch much as one of
 
 THE CHIEF MA TE. 1 89 
 
 those yellow hummocks goes slumping up and 
 down his cage. On the Atlantic, if the wind 
 blew a gale from the northeast, and it was cold 
 as an English summer, he was sure to turn out 
 in a calico shirt and trousers, his furzy brown 
 chest half bare, and slippers, without stockings. 
 But lest you might fancy this to have chanced 
 by defect of wardrobe, he comes out in a mon- 
 strous pea-jacket here in the Mediterranean, 
 when the evening is so hot that Adam would 
 have been glad to leave off his fig-leaves. " It 's 
 a kind o' damp and unwholesome in these 
 ere waters," he says, evidently regarding the 
 Midland Sea as a vile standing pool, in compari- 
 son with the bluff ocean. At meals he is su- 
 perb, not only for his strengths, but his weak- 
 nesses. He has somehow or other come to think 
 me a wag, and if I ask him to pass the butter, 
 detects an occult joke, and laughs as much as is 
 proper for a mate. For you must know that 
 our social hierarchy on shipboard is precise, 
 and the second mate, were he present, would 
 only laugh half as much as the first. Mr. X. al- 
 ways combs his hair, and works himself into a 
 black frock-coat (on Sundays he adds a waist- 
 coat) before he comes to meals, sacrificing him- 
 self nobly and painfully to the social proprieties.
 
 190 JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. 
 
 The second mate, on the other hand, who eats 
 after us, enjoys the privilege of shirt-sleeves, 
 and is, I think, the happier man of the two. 
 We do not have seats above and below the 
 salt, as in old time, but above and below the 
 white sugar. Mr. X. always takes brown sugar, 
 and it is delightful to see how he ignores the 
 existence of certain dclicates which he con- 
 siders above his grade, tipping his head on one 
 side with an air of abstraction so that he may 
 seem not to deny himself, but to omit helping 
 himself from inadvertence, or absence of mind. 
 At such times he wrinkles his forehead in a 
 peculiar manner, inscrutable at first as a cunei- 
 form inscription, but as easily read after you 
 once get the key. The sense of it is some- 
 thing like this: "I, X., know my place, a 
 height of wisdom attained by few. Whatever 
 you may think, I do not see that currant jelly, 
 nor that preserved grape. Especially a kind 
 Providence has made me blind to bowls of 
 white sugar, and deaf to the pop of champagne 
 corks. It is much that a merciful compensa- 
 tion gives me a sense of the dingier hue of 
 Havana, and the muddier gurgle of beer. Are 
 there potted meats ? My physician has ordered 
 me three pounds of minced salt-junk at every
 
 THE CHIEF MATE. I9I 
 
 meal." There is such a thing, you know, as a 
 ship's husband : X. is the ship's poor relation. 
 As I have said, he takes also a below-the-white- 
 sugar interest in the jokes, laughing by precise 
 point of compass, just as he would lay the ship's 
 course, all yawing being out of the question 
 with his scrupulous decorum at the helm. 
 Once or twice I have got the better of him, 
 and touched him off into a kind of compro- 
 mised explosion, like that of damp fireworks, 
 that splutter and simmer a little, and then go 
 out with painful slowness and occasional re- 
 lapses. But his fuse is always of the unwilling- 
 est, and you must blow your match, and touch 
 him off again and again with the same joke. 
 Or rather, you must magnetize him many times 
 to get him en rapport with a jest. This once 
 accomplished, you have him, and one bit of 
 fun will last the whole voyage. He pre- 
 fers those of one syllable, the a-b abs of hu- 
 mor. The gradual fattening of the steward, a 
 benevolent mulatto with whiskers and ear-rings, 
 who looks as if he had been meant for a wo- 
 man, and had become a man by accident, as in 
 some of those stories by the elder physiologists, 
 is an abiding topic of humorous comment with 
 Mr. X. " That 'ere stooard," he says, with a
 
 192 JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. 
 
 brown grin like what you might fancy on the 
 face of a serious and aged seal, " 's agittin' as 
 fat 's a porpis. He was as thin's a shingle when 
 he come aboord last v'yge. Them trousis '11 
 bust yit. He don't darst take 'em off nights, 
 for the whole ship's company could n't git him 
 into 'cm agin." And then he turns aside to 
 enjoy the intensity of his emotion by himself, 
 and you hear at intervals low rumblings, an in- 
 digestion of laughter. He tells me of St. 
 Elmo's fires, Marvell's corposants, though with 
 him the original corpos santos has suffered a 
 sea change, and turned to comcplcasants, pledges 
 of fine weather. I shall not soon find a pleas- 
 anter companion. It is so delightful to meet a 
 man who knows just what you do 7wt. Nay, I 
 think the tired mind finds something in plump 
 ignorance like what the body feels in cushiony 
 moss. Talk of the sympathy of kindred pur- 
 suits ! It is the sympathy of the upper and 
 nether millstones, both forever grinding the 
 same grist, and wearing each other smooth. 
 One has not far to seek for book-nature, artist- 
 nature, every variety of superinduced nature, 
 in short, but genuine human-nature is hard to 
 find. And how good it is ! Wholesome as a 
 potato, fit company for any dish. The free-
 
 THE CHIEF MATE. 1 93 
 
 masonry of cultivated men is agreeable, but 
 artificial, and I like better the natural grip with 
 which manhood recognizes manhood. 
 
 X. has one good story, and with that I leave 
 him, wishing him with all my heart that little 
 inland farm at last which is his calenture as he 
 paces the windy deck. One evening, when the 
 clouds looked wild and whirling, I asked X. if 
 it was coming on to blow. '' No, I guess not," 
 said he ; " bumby the moon '11 be up, and scoff 
 away that 'ere loose stuff." His intonation 
 set the phrase " scoff away " in quotation- 
 marks as plain as print. So I put a query 
 in each eye, and he went on. " Ther' was 
 a Dutch cappen onct, an' his mate come to 
 him in the cabin, where he sot takin' his 
 schnapps, an' says, ' Cappen, it 's agittin' thick, 
 an' looks kin' o' squally, hed n't we 's good 's 
 shorten sail ? ' ' Gimmy my alminick,' says the 
 cappen. So he looks at it a spell, an' says he, 
 ' The moon 's due in less'n half an hour, an' 
 she '11 scoff away ev'ythin' clare agin.' So the 
 mate he goes, an' bumby down he comes agin, 
 an' says, ' Cappen, this 'ere 's the allfiredest, pow- 
 erfullest moon 't ever you did see. She 's scoffed 
 away the maintogallants'l, an' she 's to work on 
 the foretops'l now. Guess you 'd better look in
 
 194 JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. 
 
 the alminick agin, an' fin' out when tJiis moon 
 sets. So the cappen thought 't was 'bout time 
 to go on deck. Dreadful slow them Dutch 
 cappens be." And X. walked away, rumbling 
 inwardly, like the rote of the sea heard afar. 
 
 — Fireside Travels. 
 
 THE COURTIN'. 
 
 God makes such nights, all white an' still 
 
 Fur 'z you can look or listen, 
 Moonshine an' snow on field an' hill, 
 
 All silence and all glisten. 
 
 Zekle crep' up quite unbeknown 
 
 An' peeked in thru the winder. 
 An' there sot Huldy all alone, 
 
 'ith no one nigh to hender. 
 
 A fireplace filled the room's one side 
 With a half a cord o* wood in — 
 
 There warn't no stoves (tell comfort died) 
 To bake ye to a puddin'. 
 
 The wa'nut logs shot sparkles out 
 Towards the pootiest, bless her, 
 
 An' leetle flames danced all about 
 The chiny on the dresser.
 
 THE COURTIN'. 1 95 
 
 Agin the chimbley crook-necks hung, 
 
 An' in amongst 'em rusted 
 The ole queen's-arm thet gran'ther Young 
 
 Fetched back from Concord busted. 
 
 The very room, coz she was in, 
 Seemed warm from floor to ceilin', 
 
 An' she looked full ez rosy agin 
 Ez the apples she was peelin'. 
 
 'T was kin' o' kingdom-come to look 
 
 On sech a blessed cretur, 
 A dogrose blushin' to a brook 
 
 Ain't modester nor sweeter. 
 
 He was six foot o' man, A I, 
 
 Clear grit an' human natur' ; 
 None could n't quicker pitch a ton 
 
 Nor dror a furrer straighter. 
 
 He 'd sparked it with full twenty gals, 
 Hed squired 'em, danced 'em, druv 'em, 
 
 Fust this one, an' then thet, by spells — 
 All is, he could n't love 'em. 
 
 But long o' her his veins 'ould run 
 All crinkly like curled maple,
 
 196 JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. 
 
 The side she breshcd felt full o' sun 
 Ez a south slope in Ap'il. 
 
 She thought no v'ice hed sech a swing 
 
 Ez hisn in the choir ; 
 My ! when he made Ole Hundred ring, 
 
 She knowed the Lord was nigher. 
 
 An' she *d blush scarlit, right in prayer, 
 When her new meetin'-bunnet 
 
 Felt somehow thru its crown a pair 
 O' blue eyes sot upon it. 
 
 Thet night, I tell ye, she looked some ! 
 
 She seemed to 've gut a new soul. 
 For she felt sartin-sure he 'd come, 
 
 Down to her very shoe-sole. 
 
 She hcercd a foot, an' knowed it tu, 
 A-raspin' on the scraper, — 
 
 All ways to once her feelin's flew 
 Like sparks in burnt-up paper. 
 
 He kin' o' I'itered on the mat, 
 Some doubtflc o' the sckle. 
 
 His heart kep* goin' pity-pat, 
 But hern went pity Zekle.
 
 THE COURTIN\ 1 97 
 
 An' yit she gin her cheer a jerk 
 Ez though she wished him furder, 
 
 An* on her apples kep' to work, 
 Parin' away like murder. 
 
 " You want to see my Pa, I s'pose ? " 
 " Wal ... no ... I come dasignin " 
 
 *' To see my Ma ? She 's sprinklin' clo'es 
 Agin to-morrer's i'nin'." 
 
 To say why gals acts so or so. 
 
 Or don't, 'ould be presumin' ; 
 Mebby to mean yes an' say 710 
 
 Comes nateral to women. 
 
 He stood a spell on one foot fust, 
 Then stood a spell on t' other, 
 
 An' on which one he felt the wust 
 He could n't ha' told ye nuther. 
 
 Says he, " I 'd better call agin " ; 
 
 Says she, " Think likely, Mister " : 
 Thet last word pricked him like a pin, 
 
 An' . . . Wal, he up an' kist her. 
 
 When Ma bimeby upon 'em slips, 
 Huldy sot pale ez ashes,
 
 198 JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. 
 
 All kin' o' smily roun' the lips 
 An' teary roun' the lashes. 
 
 For she was jes' the quiet kind 
 
 Whose naturs never vary, 
 Like streams that keep a summer mind 
 
 Snowhid in Jenooary. 
 
 The blood clost roun' her heart felt glued 
 
 Too tight for all cxpressin', 
 Tell mother see how metters stood, 
 
 An' gin 'em both her blessin'. 
 
 Then her red come back like the tide 
 
 Down to the Bay o' Fundy, 
 An' all I know is thej^ was cried 
 
 In meetin' come nex' Sunday. 
 
 — Biglow Papers.
 
 LUCRETIA P. HALE. 
 
 (Born, 1820.) 
 
 MODERN IMPROVEMENTS AT THE PETERKINS . 
 
 AGAMEMNON felt that it became neces- 
 sary for him to choose a profession. 
 It was important on account of the little boys. 
 If he should make a trial of several different 
 professions, he could find out which would be 
 the most likely to be successful, and it would 
 then be easy to bring up the little boys in the 
 right direction. 
 
 Elizabeth Eliza agreed with this. She 
 thought the family occasionally made mistakes, 
 and had come near disgracing themselves. Now 
 was their chance to avoid this in future, by giv- 
 ing the little boys a proper education. 
 
 Solomon John was almost determined to be- 
 come a doctor. From earliest childhood he 
 had practised writing recipes on little slips of 
 paper. Mrs. Peterkin, to be sure, was afraid of 
 infection. She could not bear the idea of his 
 
 199
 
 200 LUCRE TIA P. HALE. 
 
 bringing one disease after the other into the 
 family circle. Solomon John, too, did not like 
 sick people. He thought he might manage it, 
 if he should not have to see his patients while 
 they were sick. If he could only visit them 
 when they were recovering, and when the dan- 
 ger of infection was over, he would really enjoy 
 making calls. 
 
 He should have a comfortable doctor's 
 chaise, and take one of the little boys to hold 
 his horse while he went in, and he thought he 
 could get through the conversational part very 
 well, and feeling the pulse, perhaps looking at 
 the tongue. He should take and read all the 
 newspapers, and so be thoroughly acquainted 
 with the news of the day to talk of. But he 
 should not like to be waked up at night to 
 visit. Mr. Petcrkin thought that would not be 
 necessary. He had seen signs oa doors of 
 " Night Doctor," and certainly it would be as 
 convenient to have a sign of " Not a Night 
 Doctor." 
 
 Solomon John thought he might write his 
 advice to those of his patients who were dan- 
 gerously ill, from whom there was danger of in- 
 fection. And then Elizabeth Eliza agreed that 
 I'.is prescriptions would probably be so satisfac-
 
 MODERN IMPROVEJMEXTS. 201 
 
 tory that they would keep his patients well, not 
 too well to do without a doctor, but needing 
 his recipes. 
 
 Agamemnon was delayed, however, in his 
 choice of a profession by a desire he had to be- 
 come a famous inventor. If he could only in- 
 vent something important, and get out a patent, 
 he would make himself known all over the 
 country. If he could get out a patent, he 
 would be set up for life, or at least as long as 
 the patent lasted, and it would be well to be 
 sure to arrange it to last through his natural 
 life. 
 
 Indeed, he had gone so far as to make his 
 invention. It had been suggested by their 
 trouble with a key, in their late moving to their 
 new house. He had studied the matter over a 
 great deal. He looked it up in the Encyclo- 
 paedia, and had spent a day or two in the Public 
 Library, in reading about Chubb's Lock, and 
 other patent locks. 
 
 But his plan was more simple. It was this : 
 that all keys should be made alike ! He won- 
 dered it had not been thought of before, but so 
 it was, Solomon John said, with all inventions, 
 with Christopher Columbus, and everybody. 
 Nobody knew the invention till it was invented,
 
 202 LUCRE TI A P. HALE. 
 
 and then it looked very simple. With Aga- 
 memnon's plan, you need have but one key, that 
 should fit every thing! It should be a medium- 
 sized key, not too large to carry. It ought to 
 answer for a house door, but you might open a 
 portmanteau with it. How much less danger 
 there would be of losing one's keys, if there 
 were only one to lose ! 
 
 Mrs. Petcrkin thought it would be inconven- 
 ient if their father were out, and she wanted to 
 open the jam-closet for the little boys. But 
 Agamemnon explained that he did not mean 
 there should be but one key in the family, or 
 in a town, — you might have as many as you 
 pleased, — only they should all be alike. 
 
 Elizabeth Eliza felt it would be a great con- 
 venience — they could keep the front door 
 always locked, yet she could open it with the 
 key of her upper drawer; that she was sure to 
 have with her. And Mrs. Peterkin felt it might 
 be a convenience if they had one on each story, 
 so that they need not go up and down for it. 
 
 Mr. Peterkin studied all the papers and ad- 
 vertisements, to decide about the lawyer whom 
 they should consult, and at last, one morning, 
 they went into town to visit a patent-agent. 
 
 Elizabeth Eliza took the occasion to make a
 
 MODERN IMPROVEMENTS. 203 
 
 call upon the lady from Philadelphia, but she 
 came back hurriedly to her mother. 
 
 " I have had a delightful call," she said, "but 
 perhaps I was wrong, I could not help, in con- 
 versation, speaking of Agamemnon's proposed 
 patent. I ought not to have mentioned it, as 
 such things are kept profound secrets; they say 
 women always do tell things, I suppose that is 
 the reason." 
 
 " But where is the harm ? " asked Mrs. Peter- 
 kin. " I 'm sure you can trust the lady from 
 Philadelphia ! " 
 
 Elizabeth Eliza then explained that the lady 
 from Philadelphia had questioned the plan a 
 little, when it was told her, and had suggested 
 that " if every body had the same key there 
 would be no particular use in a lock." 
 
 " Did you explain to her," said Mrs. Peter- 
 kin, "that we were not all to have the same 
 keys?" 
 
 " I could n't quite understand her," said 
 Elizabeth Eliza, "but she seemed to think that 
 burglars and other people might come in, if the 
 keys were the same." 
 
 "Agamemnon would not sell his patent to 
 burglars ! " said Mrs. Peterkin, indignantly. 
 
 "But about other people,"said Elizabeth Eliza,
 
 204 LUCRETIA P. HALE. 
 
 " there is my upper drawer ; the little boys 
 might open it at Christmas-time, — and their 
 presents in it ! " 
 
 "And I am not sure that I could trust 
 Amanda," said Mrs. Peterkin, considering. 
 
 Both she and Elizabeth Eliza felt that Mr. 
 Peterkin ought to know what the lady from 
 Philadelphia had suggested. Elizabeth Eliza 
 then proposed going into town, but it would 
 take so long, she might not reach them in time. 
 A telegram would be better, and she ventured 
 to suggest using the Telegraph Alarm. 
 
 For, on moving into their new house, they 
 had discovered it was provided with all the 
 modern improvements. This had been a dis- 
 appointment to Mrs. Peterkin, for she was 
 afraid of them, since their experience the last 
 winter, when their water-pipes were frozen up. 
 She had been originally attracted to the house 
 by an old pump at the side, which had led her 
 to believe there were no modern improvements. 
 It had pleased the little boys, too. They liked 
 to pump the handle up and down, and agreed 
 to pump all the water needed, and bring it into 
 the house. 
 
 There was also an old well, with a picturesque 
 well-sweep, in a corner by the barn. Mrs. Peter-
 
 MODERN' IMPROVEMENTS. 20$ 
 
 kin was frightened by this, at first. She was 
 afraid the little boys would be falling in 
 every day. And they showed great fond- 
 ness for pulling the bucket up and down. It 
 proved, however, that the well was dry. There 
 was no water in it, so she had some moss thrown 
 down, and an old feather bed, for safety, and 
 the old well was a favorite place of amusement. 
 
 " The house, it had proved, was well fur- 
 nished with bath-rooms, and " set-waters," every 
 where. Water-pipes and gas-pipes all over the 
 house ; and a hack-telegraph, and fire-alarm, 
 with a little knob for each. 
 
 Mrs. Peterkin was very anxious. She feared 
 the little boys would be summoning some- 
 body all the time, and it was decided to con- 
 ceal from them the use of the knobs, and the 
 card of directions at the side was destroyed. 
 Agamemnon had made one of his first inven- 
 tions to help this. He had arranged a number 
 of similar knobs to be put in rows in different 
 parts of the house, to appear as if they were in- 
 tended for ornament, and had added some to 
 the original knobs. 
 
 Mrs. Peterkin felt more secure, and Aga- 
 memnon thought of taking out a patent for 
 this invention.
 
 206 LUCRETIA P. HALE. 
 
 It was, therefore, with some doubt that Eliza- 
 beth Eliza proposed sending a telegram to hcf 
 father. Mrs. Peterkin, however, was pleased 
 with the idea. Solomon John was out, and 
 the little boys were at school, and she herself 
 would touch the knob, while Elizabeth Eliza 
 should write the telegram, 
 
 " I think it is the fourth knob from the begin- 
 ning," she said, looking at one of the rows of 
 knobs. 
 
 Elizabeth Eliza was sure of this. Agamemnon, 
 she believed, had put three extra knobs at each 
 end. 
 
 " But which is the end, and which is the be- 
 ginning — the top or the bottom ? " Mrs. Peter- 
 kin asked, hopelessly. 
 
 Still she bravely selected a knob, and Eliza- 
 beth Eliza hastened with her to look out for 
 the messenger. How soon should they seethe 
 telegraph boy ? 
 
 They seemed to have scarcely reached the 
 window, when a terrible noise was heard, and 
 down the shady street the white horses of the 
 fire-brigade were seen rushing at a fatal speed ! 
 It was a terrific moment ! 
 
 " I have touched the fire-alarm," Mrs. Peter- 
 kin exclaimed.
 
 MODERN IMPROVEMENTS. 20/ 
 
 Both rushed to open the front door in agony. 
 By this time, the fire-engines were approaching. 
 
 " Do not be alarmed," said the chief engineer, 
 " the furniture shall be carefully covered, and 
 we will move all that is necessary." 
 
 " Move again ! " exclaimed Mrs. Peterkin, in 
 agony. 
 
 Elizabeth Eliza strove to explain that she 
 was only sending a telegram to her father, who 
 was in Boston. 
 
 " It is not important," said the head en- 
 gineer, " the fire will all be out before it could 
 reach him." 
 
 And he ran up stairs, for the engines were 
 beginning to play upon the roof. 
 
 Mrs. Peterkin rushed to the knobs again, 
 hurriedly ; there was more necessity for sum- 
 moning Mr. Peterkin home. 
 
 " Write a telegram to your father," she said 
 to Elizabeth Eliza, "to ' come home directly.' " 
 
 " That will take but three words," said Eliza- 
 beth Eliza, with presence of mind, " and we 
 need ten. I was just trying to make them out." 
 
 " What has come now ?" exclaimed Mrs. 
 Peterkin, and they hurried again to the win- 
 dow, to see a row of carriages coming down the 
 street.
 
 2o8 LUCRE TI A P. HALE. 
 
 " I must have touched the carriage-knob," 
 cried Mrs. Pctcrkin, " and I pushed it half a 
 dozen times, I felt so anxious! " 
 
 Six hacks stood before the door. All the 
 village boys were assembling. Even their own 
 h"ttle boys had returned from school, and were 
 showing the firemen the way to the well. 
 
 Again Mrs. Peterkin rushed to the knobs, 
 and a fearful sound arose. She had touched 
 the burglar alarm ! 
 
 The former owner of the house, who had a 
 great fear of burglars, had invented a machine of 
 his own, which he had connected with a knob. A 
 wire attached to the knob moved a spring that 
 could put in motion a number of watchman's rat- 
 tles, hidden under the eaves of the piazza. 
 
 All these were now set a-going, and their 
 terrible din roused those of the neighborhood 
 who had not before assembled around the 
 house. At this moment, Elizabeth Eliza met 
 the chief engineer. 
 
 " You need not send for more help," he said; 
 " we have all the engines in town here, and have 
 stirred up all the towns in the neighborhood ; 
 there 's no use in springing any more alarms. 
 I can't find the fire yet, but we have water 
 pouring all over the house."
 
 MODERN IMPROVEMENTS. 209 
 
 Elizabeth Eliza waved her telegram in the 
 air. 
 
 " We are only trying to send a telegram to 
 my father and brother, who are in town," she 
 endeavored to explain, 
 
 " If it is necessary," said the chief engineer, 
 " you might send it down in one of the hack- 
 ney carriages. I see a number standing before 
 the door. We 'd better begin to move the 
 heavier furniture, and some of you women 
 might fill the carriages with smaller things." 
 
 Mrs. Peterkin was ready to fall into hysterics. 
 She controlled herself with a supreme power, 
 and hastened to touch another knob. 
 
 Elizabeth Eliza corrected her telegram, and 
 decided to take the advice of the chief engineer, 
 and went to the door to give her message to 
 one of the hackmen, when she saw a telegraph 
 boy appear. Her mother had touched the right 
 knob. It was the fourth from the beginning, 
 but the beginning was at the other end ! 
 
 She went out to meet the boy, when, to her 
 joy, she saw behind him her father and Aga- 
 memnon. She clutched her telegram, and 
 hurried toward them. Mr. Peterkin was be- 
 wildered. Was the house on fire ? If so, 
 where were the flames ?
 
 210 LUCRE TI A P. HALE. 
 
 He saw the row of carriages. Was there a 
 funeral, or a wedding ? Who was dead ? Who 
 was to be married ? 
 
 He seized the telegram that Elizabeth Eliza 
 reached to him, and read it aloud. 
 
 " Come to us directly — the house is NOT on 
 fire ! " 
 
 The chief engineer was standing on the steps. 
 
 "The house not on fire!" he exclaimed. 
 "What arc we all summoned for?" 
 
 " It is a mistake," cried Elizabeth Eliza, 
 wringing her hands. " We touched the wrong 
 knob ; we wanted the telegraph boy ! " 
 
 " We touched all the wrong knobs," ex- 
 claimed Mrs. Peterkin, from the house. 
 
 The chief engineer turned directly to give 
 counter-directions, with a few exclamations of 
 disgust, as the bells of distant fire-engines were 
 heard approaching. 
 
 Solomon John appeared at this moment, and 
 proposed taking one of the carriages, and going 
 for a doctor for his mother, for she \\as now 
 nearly ready to fall into hysterics, and Aga- 
 memnon thought to send a telegram down by 
 the boy, for the evening papers, to announce 
 that the Peterkins' house had not been on fire. 
 
 The crisis of the commotion had reached its
 
 MODERN IMPROVEMENTS. 211 
 
 height. The beds of flowers bordered with 
 dark-colored leaves were trodden down by the 
 feet of the crowd that had assembled. 
 
 The chief engineer grew more and more in- 
 dignant, as he sent his men to order back the 
 fire-engines from the neighboring towns. The 
 collection of boys followed the procession as it 
 went away. The fire-brigade hastily removed 
 covers from some of the furniture, restored the 
 rest to their places, and took away their lad- 
 ders. Many neighbors remained, but Mr. 
 Peterkin hastened into the house to attend to 
 Mrs. Peterkin. 
 
 Elizabeth Eliza took an opportunity to ques- 
 tion her father, before he went in, as to the 
 success of their visit to town. 
 
 "We saw all the patent-agents," answered 
 Mr. Peterkin, in a hollow whisper. " Not one 
 of them will touch the patent, or have any thing 
 to do with it." 
 
 Elizabeth Eliza looked at Agamemnon, as he 
 walked silently into the house. She would not 
 now speak to him of the patent ; but she re- 
 called some words of Solomon John. When 
 they were discussing the patent, he had said 
 that many an inventor had grown gray before 
 his discovery was acknowledged by the public.
 
 212 LUCRETIA P. HALE. 
 
 Others might reap the harvest, but it came, 
 perhaps, only when he was going to his grave. 
 
 Elizabeth Eliza looked at Agamemnon rever- 
 ently, and followed him silently into the house. 
 — TJie Peter kin Papers.
 
 EDWARD EVERETT HALE. 
 
 (born, 1822.) 
 
 MY DOUBLE, AND HOW HE UNDID ME. 
 
 IT is not often that I trouble the readers of 
 the Atlantic MontJily. I should not trouble 
 them now, but for the importunities of my 
 wife, who " feels to insist " that a duty to so- 
 ciety is unfulfilled, till I have told why I had to 
 have a double, and how he undid me. She is 
 sure, she says, that intelligent persons cannot 
 understand that pressure upon public servants 
 which alone drives any man into the employ- 
 ment of a double. And while I fear she thinks, 
 at the bottom of her heart, that my fortunes 
 will never be remade, she has a faint hope that, 
 as another Rasselas, I may teach a lesson to 
 future publics, from which they may profit, 
 though we die. Owing to the behavior of my 
 double, or, if you please, to that public pressure 
 which compelled me to employ him, I have 
 plenty of leisure to write this communication. 
 
 2I»
 
 1 4 ED IV A RD E VERE TT HALE. 
 
 I am, or rather was, a minister, of the Sande- 
 manian connection. I was settled in the active, 
 wide-awake town of Naguadavick, on one of 
 the finest water-powers in Maine. We used to 
 call it a Western town in the heart of the civil- 
 ization of New England. A charming place it 
 was and is. A spirited, brave young parish had 
 I, and it seemed as if we miglit have all " the 
 joy of eventful living" to our hearts' content. 
 
 Alas ! how little we knew on the day of my 
 ordination, and in those halcyon moments of 
 our first house-keeping. To be the confidential 
 friend in a hundred families in the town, — cutting 
 the social trifle, as my friend Haliburton says, 
 " from the top of the whipped syllabub to the 
 bottom of the sponge-cake, which is the founda- 
 tion," — to keep abreast of the thought of the 
 age in one's study, and to do one's best on Sun- 
 day to interweave that thought with the active 
 life of an active town, and to inspirit both and 
 to make both infinite by glimpses of the 
 Eternal Glory, seemed such an exquisite fore- 
 look into one's life ! Enough to do, and all so 
 real and so grand I If this vision could only 
 have lasted ! 
 
 The truth is, this vision was not in itself 
 a delusion, nor, indeed, half bright enough. If
 
 MY DOUBLE, AND HOW HE UNDID ME. 21$ 
 
 one could only have been left to do his own 
 business, the vision would have accomplished 
 itself and brought out new paraheliacal visions, 
 each as bright as the original. The misery was 
 and is, as we found out, I and Polly, before 
 long, that beside the vision, and besides the 
 usual human and finite failures in life (such as 
 breaking the old pitcher that came over in the 
 " Mayflower," and putting into the fire the 
 Alpenstock with which her father climbed 
 Mont Blanc), — besides these, I say (imitating 
 the style of Robinson Crusoe), there were pitch- 
 forked in on us a great rowen-heap of humbugs, 
 handed down from some unknown seed-time, 
 in which we were expected, and I chiefiy, to 
 fulfil certain public functions before the com- 
 munity, of the character of those fulfilled by 
 the third row of supernumeraries who stand be- 
 hind the Sepoys in the spectacle of the " Cata- 
 ract of the Ganges." They were the duties, in 
 a word, which one performs as member of one 
 or another social class or subdivision, wholly 
 distinct from what one does as A. by himself 
 A. What invisible power put these functions 
 on me, it would be very hard to tell. But such 
 power there was and is. And I had not been 
 at work a year before I found I was living two
 
 2l6 EDWARD EVERETT HALE. 
 
 lives, one real and one merely functional, — for 
 two sets of people, one my parish, whom I 
 loved, and the other a vague public, for whom 
 I did not care two straws. All this was a 
 vague notion, which ever>'body had and has, 
 that this second life would eventually bring 
 out some great results, unknown at present, to 
 somebody somewhere. 
 
 Crazed by this duality of life, I first read Dr. 
 Wigan on the " Duality of the Brain," hoping 
 that I could train one side of my head to do 
 these outside jobs, and the other to do my in- 
 timate and real duties. . . . But Dr. Wigan 
 does not go into these niceties of this subject, 
 and I failed. It was then that, on my wife's 
 suggestion, I resolved to look out for a Double. 
 
 I was, at first, singularly successful. We 
 happened to be recreating at Stafford Springs 
 that summer. We rode out one day, for one 
 of the relaxations of that watering-place, to the 
 great Monson Poorhouse. We were passing 
 through one of the large halls, when my des- 
 tiny was fulfilled ! 
 
 He was not shaven. He had on no specta- 
 cles. He was dressed in a green baize round- 
 about and faded blue overalls, worn sadly at 
 the knee. But I saw at once that he was of
 
 IHY DOUBLE, AND HOW HE UNDID ME. 21/ 
 
 my height, five feet four and a half. He had 
 black hair, worn off by his hat. So have and 
 have not I. He stooped in walking. So do I. 
 His hands were large, and mine. And — choi- 
 cest gift of Fate in all — he had, not " a straw- 
 berry-mark on his left arm," but a cut from a 
 juvenile brickbat over his right eye, slightly 
 affecting the play of that eyebrow. Reader, so 
 have I ! My fate was sealed ! 
 
 A word with Mr. Holly, one of the inspec- 
 tors, settled the whole thing. It proved that 
 this Dennis Shea was a harmless, amiable fel- 
 low, of the class known as shiftless, who had 
 sealed his fate by marrying a dumb wife, who 
 was at that moment ironing in the laundry. 
 Before I left Stafford, I had hired both for five 
 years. We had applied to Judge Pynchon, 
 then the probate judge at Springfield, to change 
 the name of Dennis Shea to Frederic Ingham. 
 We had explained to the judge, what was the 
 precise truth, that an eccentric gentleman 
 wished to adopt Dennis, under this new name, 
 into his family. It never occurred to him that 
 Dennis might be more than fourteen years old. 
 And thus, to shorten this preface, when we re- 
 turned at night to my parsonage at Naguada- 
 vick, there entered Mrs. Ingham, her new dumb
 
 2l8 EDWARD EVERETT HALE. 
 
 laundress, myself, who am Mr, Frederic Ingham, 
 and my double, who was Mr. Frederic Ingham 
 by as good right as I. 
 
 O the fun we had the next morning in shav- 
 ing his beard to my pattern, cutting his hair to 
 match mine, and teaching him how to wear and 
 how to take off gold-bowed spectacles ! Really, 
 they were electro-plate, and the glass was plain 
 (for the poor fellow's eyes were excellent). 
 Then in four successive afternoons I taught 
 him four speeches. I had found these would 
 be quite enough for the supernumerary-Sepoy 
 line of life, and it was well for me they were ; 
 for though he was good-natured, he was very 
 shiftless, and it was, as our national proverb 
 says, " like pulling teeth " to teach him. But 
 at the end of the next week he could say, with 
 quite my easy and frisky air : — 
 
 1. " Very well, thank you. And you ? " This 
 for an answer to casual salutations. 
 
 2. " I am very glad you liked it." 
 
 3. " There has been so much said, and, on 
 the whole, so well said, that I will not occupy 
 the time." 
 
 4. " I agree, in general, with my friend the 
 other side of the room." 
 
 At first 1 had a feeling that I was going to
 
 MV DOUBLE, AND HOW HE UNDID ME. 2ig 
 
 be at great cost for clothing him. But it 
 proved, of course, at once, that, whenever he 
 was out, I should be at home. And I went, 
 during the bright period of his success, to so 
 few of those awful pageants which require a 
 black dress-coat and what the ungodly call, 
 after Mr. Dickens, a white choker, that in the 
 happy retreat of my own dressing-gowns and 
 jackets my days went by as happily and 
 cheaply as those of another Thalaba. And 
 Polly declares there never was a year when the 
 tailoring cost so little. He lived (Dennis not 
 Thalaba) in his wife's room over the kitchen. 
 He had orders never to show himself at that 
 window. When he appeared in the front of 
 the house, I retired to my sanctissimum and 
 my dressing-gown. In short, the Dutchman 
 and his wife, in the old weather-box, had not 
 less to do with each other than he and I. He 
 made the furnace-fire and split the wood before 
 daylight ; then he went to sleep again, and 
 slept late ; then came for orders, with a red 
 silk bandanna tied round his head, with his 
 overalls on, and his dress-coat and spectacles 
 off. If we happened to be interrupted, no one 
 guessed that he was Frederic Ingham as well 
 as I ; and, in the neighborhood, there grew up
 
 220 EDWARD EVERETT HALE. 
 
 an impression that the nriinister's Irishman 
 worked day-times in the factory-village at New 
 Coventry. After I had given him his orders, I 
 never saw him till the next day. 
 
 I launched him by sending him to a meeting 
 of the Enlightenment Board. The Enlighten- 
 ment Board consists of seventy-four members, 
 of whom sixty-seven are necessary to form a 
 quorum. ... At this particular time we 
 had had four successive meetings, averaging 
 four hours each, — wholly occupied in whipping 
 in a quorum. At the first only eleven men were 
 present ; at the next, by force of three circu- 
 lars, twenty-seven ; at the third, thanks to two 
 days' canvassing by Auchmuty and myself, 
 begging men to come, we had sixty. Half the 
 others were in Europe. But without a quorum 
 we could do nothing. All the rest of us waited 
 grimly for our four hours, and adjourned with- 
 out any action. At the fourth meeting we had 
 flagged, and only got fifty-nine together. 
 
 But on the first appearance of my double, — 
 whom I sent on this fatal Monday to the fifth 
 meeting, — he was the sixty-seventh man who 
 entered the room. He was greeted with a 
 storm of applause ! The poor fellow had 
 missed his way, — read the street signs ill
 
 MV DOUBLE, AND HOW HE UNDID ME. 221 
 
 through his spectacles (very ill, in fact, without 
 them), — and had not dared to enquire. He 
 entered the room, — finding the president and 
 secretary holding to their chairs two judges of 
 the Supreme Court, who were also members 
 ex officio, and were begging leave to go away. 
 On his entrance all was changed. Presto, the 
 by-laws were suspended, and the Western 
 property was given away. Nobody stopped to 
 converse with him. He voted, as I had charged 
 him to do, in every instance, with the minority. 
 I won new laurels as a man of sense, though a 
 little unpunctual, — and Dennis, alias Ingham, 
 returned to the parsonage, astonished to see 
 with how little wisdom the world is governed. 
 He cut a few of my parishioners in the street ; 
 but he had his glasses off, and I am known to 
 be near-sighted. Eventually he recognized 
 them more readily than I. . . . 
 
 After this he went to several Commence- 
 ments for me, and ate the dinners provided ; 
 he sat through three of our Quarterly Conven- 
 tions for me, — always voting judiciously, by the 
 simple rule mentioned above, of siding with the 
 minority. And I meanwhile, who had before 
 been losing caste among my friends, as holding 
 myself aloof from the associations of the body.
 
 222 EDWARD EVERETT HALE. 
 
 began to rise in everybody's favor. " Ingham 's 
 a good fellow, — always on hand"; "never 
 talks much, but does the right thing at the 
 right time "; " is not as unpunctual as he used 
 to be, — he comes early, and sits through to the 
 end." " He has got over his old talkative 
 habit, too. I spoke to a friend of his about it 
 once; and I think Ingham took it kindly," 
 etc., etc. 
 
 Polly is more rash than I am, as 
 the reader has observed in the outset of this 
 memoir. She risked Dennis one night under 
 the eyes of her own sex. Governor Gorges had 
 always been very kind to us, and, when he gave 
 his great annual party to the town, asked us. 
 I confess I hated to go. I was deep in the 
 new volume of Pfciffcr's " Mystics," which 
 Haliburton had just sent me from Boston. 
 " But how rude," said Polly, "not to return the 
 Governor's civility and Mrs. Gorges's, when they 
 will be sure to ask why you are away !" Still 
 I demurred, and at last she, with the wit of Eve 
 and of Semiramis conjoined, let me off by say- 
 ing that, if I would go in with her, and sustain 
 the initial conversations with the Governor and 
 the ladies staying there, she would risk Dennis 
 for the rest of the evening. And that was just
 
 A/y DOUBLE, AND HOW HE UNDID ME. 223 
 
 what we did. She took Dennis in training all 
 that afternoon, instructed him in fashionable 
 conversation, cautioned him against the temp- 
 tations of the supper-table, — and at nine in the 
 evening he drove us all down in the carryall. 
 I made the grand stSir-entre'e with Polly and the 
 pretty Walton girls, who were staying with us. 
 We had put Dennis into a great rough top- 
 coat, without his glasses ; and the girls never 
 dreamed, in the darkness, of looking at him. 
 He sat in the carriage, at the door, while we 
 entered. I did the agreeable to Mrs. Gorges, 
 was introduced to her niece, Miss Fernanda ; I 
 complimented Judge Jeffries on his decision in 
 the great case of D'Aulnay vs. Laconia Mining 
 Company ; I stepped into the dressing-room 
 for a moment, stepped out for another, walked 
 home after a nod with Dennis and tying the 
 horse to a pump ; and while I walked home, 
 Mr. Frederic Ingham, my double, stepped in 
 through the library into the Gorges's grand 
 saloon. 
 
 Oh ! Polly died of laughing as she told me of 
 it at midnight ! And even here, where I have 
 to teach my hands to hew the beech for stakes 
 to fence our cave, she dies of laughing as she 
 recalls it, — and says that single occasion was
 
 224 EDWARD EVERETT HALE. 
 
 worth all we have paid for it. Gallant Eve that 
 she is ! She joined Dennis at the librar}'-door, 
 and in an instant presented him to Dr. Ochter- 
 lony, from Baltimore, who was on a visit in 
 town, and was talking with her as Dennis came 
 in. " Mr. Ingham would like to hear what you 
 were telling us about your success among the 
 German population." And Dennis bowed and 
 said, in spite of a scowl from Polly, " I 'm very 
 glad you liked it." But Dr. Ochtcrlony did 
 not observe, and plunged into the tide of ex- 
 planation ; Dennis listened like a prime-mini- 
 ster, and bowing like a mandarin, which is, I 
 suppose, the same thing. ... So was it 
 that before Dr. Ochterlony came to the " suc- 
 cess," or near it, Governor Gorges came to 
 Dennis, and asked him to hand Mrs. JcfTries 
 down to supper, a request which he heard with 
 great joy. 
 
 Polly was skipping round the room, I guess, 
 gay as a lark. Auchmuty came to her " in pity 
 for poor Ingham," who was so bored by the 
 stupid pundit, — and Auchmuty could not un- 
 derstand why I stood it so long. But when 
 Dennis took Mrs. Jeffries down, Polly could 
 not resist standing near them. He was a little 
 flustered, till the sight of tlie eatables and
 
 AfV DOUBLE, AND HOW HE UNDID ME. 225 
 
 drinkables gave him the same Mercian cour- 
 age which it gave Diggory. A little excited 
 then, he attempted one or two of his speeches 
 to the judge's lady. But little he knew how 
 hard it was to get in even 2.promptu there edge- 
 wise. " Very well, I thank you," said he, after 
 the eating elements were adjusted ; " and you ? " 
 And then did not he have to hear about the 
 mumps, and the measles, and arnica, and bella- 
 donna, and chamomile-flower, and dodecatheon, 
 till she changed oysters for salad ; and then 
 about the old practice and the new, and what 
 her sister said, and what her sister's friend said, 
 and what the physician to her sister's friend 
 said, and then what was said by the brother of 
 the sister of the physician of the friend of her 
 sister, exactly as if it had been in Ollendorff ? 
 There was a moment's pause, as she declined 
 champagne. " I am very glad you liked it," 
 said Dennis again, which he never should have 
 said but to one who complimented a sermon. 
 " Oh ! you are so sharp, Mr. Ingham ! No ! I 
 never drink any wine at all, — except sometimes 
 in summer a little currant shrub, — from our 
 own currants, you know. My own mother, — 
 that is, I call her my own mother, because, you 
 know, I do not remember," etc., etc., etc. ; till
 
 226 EDWARD EVERETT HALE. 
 
 they came to the candied orange at the end of 
 the feast, when Dennis, rather confused, thought 
 he must say something, and tried No. 4, — " I 
 agree, in general, with my friend the other side 
 of the room," — which he never should have said 
 but at a public meeting. But Mrs. Jeffries, who 
 never listens expecting to understand, caught 
 him up instantly with "Well, I 'm sure my hus- 
 band returns the compliment ; he always agrees 
 with you, — though we do worship with the 
 Methodists ; but you know, Mr. Ingham," etc., 
 etc., etc., till they move up-stairs ; and as Den- 
 nis led her through the hall, he was scarcely un- 
 derstood by any but Polly, as he said, " There 
 has been so much said, and, on the whole, so 
 well said, that I will not occupy the time." 
 
 His great resource the rest of the evening was 
 standing in tiic library, carrying on animated 
 conversations with one and another in much the 
 same way. Polly had initiated him in the mys- 
 teries of a discovery of mine, that it is not 
 necessary to finish your sentences in a crowd, 
 but by a sort of mumble, omitting sibilants and 
 details. This, indeed, if your words fail you, 
 answers even in public extempore speech, but 
 better where other talking is going on. Thus: 
 "We missed you at the Natural History So-
 
 MY DOUBLE, AND HOW HE UNDID ME. 22/ 
 
 ciety, Ingham." Ingham repHes, " I am very 
 ghgloglum, that is, that you were mmmmm." 
 By gradually dropping the voice, the interlocu- 
 tor is compelled to supply the answer. " Mrs. 
 Ingham, I hope your friend Augusta is better." 
 Augusta has not been ill. Polly cannot think 
 of explaining, however, and answers, " Thank 
 you, ma'am ; she is very rearason wewahwewoh," 
 in lower and lower tones. And Mrs. Throckmor- 
 ton, who forgot the subject of which she spoke 
 as soon as she asked the question, is quite satis- 
 fied. Dennis could see into the card-room, and 
 came to Polly to ask if he might not go and 
 play all-fours. But of course, she sternly re- 
 fused. At midnight they came home delighted, 
 — Polly, as I said, wild to tell me the story of 
 the victory ; only both the pretty Walton girls 
 said, " Cousin Frederic, you did not come near 
 me all the evening." . . . 
 
 But I see I loiter on my story, which is rush- 
 ing to the plunge. Let me stop an instant 
 more, however, to recall, were it only to myself, 
 that charming year while all was yet well. After 
 the double had become a matter of course, for 
 nearly twelve months before he undid me, what 
 a year it was ! Full of active life, full of happy 
 love, of the hardest work, of the sweetest sleep,
 
 228 EDWARD EVERETT HALE. 
 
 and the fulfilment of so many of the fresh as- 
 pirations and dreams of boyhood ! Dennis went 
 to every school-committee meeting, and sat 
 through all those late wranglings which used to 
 keep me up till midnight and awake till morn- 
 ing-. He attended all the lectures to which 
 foreign exiles sent me tickets begging me to 
 come for the love of Heaven ;uul of Bohemia. 
 He accepted and used all the tickets for charity 
 concerts which were sent to me. He appeared 
 everywhere where it was specially desirable that 
 " our denomination," or " our party," or " our 
 class," or " our family," or " our street," or 
 " our town," or " our country," or " our State," 
 should be fully represented. . . . 
 
 Freed from these necessities, that happy 
 year I began to know my wife by sight. We 
 saw each other sometimes. In those long 
 mornings, when Dennis was in the study ex- 
 plaining to map-peddlers that I had eleven maps 
 of Jerusalem already, and to school-book agents 
 that I would see them hanged before I would 
 be bribed to introduce their text-books into the 
 schools, — she and I were at work together, as 
 in those old dreamy days, — and in these of our 
 log cabin again. But all this could not last, — 
 and at Icn^^h poor Dennis, my double, over- 
 tasked in turn, undid me.
 
 MV DOUBLE, AND HOW HE UNDID ME. 229 
 
 It was thus it happened. There is an excel- 
 ent fellow, — once a minister, — I will call him 
 Isaacs, — who deserves well of the world till 
 he dies, and after, because he once, in a real 
 exigency, did the right thing, in the right way, 
 at the right time, as no other man could do it. 
 In the world's great football match, the ball by 
 chance found him loitering on the outside of 
 the field ; he closed with it, " camped " it, 
 charged it home,— yes, right through the other 
 side, — not disturbed, not frightened by his own 
 success, — and breathless found himself a great 
 man, as the Great Delta rang applause. But he 
 did not find himself a rich man ; and the foot- 
 ball has never come in his way again. From 
 that moment to this moment he has been of 
 no use, that one can see at all. Still, for that 
 great act we speak of Isaacs gratefully and 
 remember him kindly ; and he forges on, hoping 
 to meet the football somewhere again. In that 
 vague hope, he had arranged a " movement " 
 for a general organization of the human family 
 into Debating Clubs, County Societies, State 
 Unions, etc., etc., with a view of inducing all 
 children to take hold of the handles of their 
 knives and forks, instead of the metal. Children 
 have bad habits in that way. The movement,
 
 230 EDWARD EVERETT HALE. 
 
 of course, was absurd ; but we all did our best 
 to forward, not it, but him. It came time for 
 the annual county-meeting on this subject 
 to be held at Naguadavick. Isaacs came 
 round, good fellow! to arrange for it,— got 
 the town-hall, got the Governor to preside 
 (the saint !— he ought to have triplet doubles 
 provided him by law), and then came to get me 
 to speak. " No," I said, " I would not speak, if 
 ten Governors presided. I do not believe in 
 the enterprise. If I spoke, it should be to say 
 children should take hold of the prongs of the 
 forks and the blades of the knives. I would 
 subscribe ten dollars, but I would not speak a 
 mill." So poor Isaacs went his way sadly, to 
 coax Auchmuty to speak, and Dclafield. I 
 went out. Not long after he came back, and 
 told Polly that they had promised to speak, the 
 Governor would speak, and he himself would 
 close with the quarterly report, and some inter- 
 esting anecdotes regarding Miss Biffin's way of 
 handling her knife, and Mr. Nellis's way of 
 footing his fork. " Now if Mr. Ingham will only 
 come and sit on the platform, he need not say 
 one word ; but it will show well in the paper, — 
 it will show that the Sandemanians take as much 
 interest in the movement as the Armenians or
 
 MV DOUBLE, AND HOW HE UNDID ME. 23 1 
 
 the Mesopotamians, and will be a great favor to 
 me." Polly, good soul ! was tempted, and 
 she promised. She knew Mrs. Isaacs was starv- 
 ing, and the babies, — she knew Dennis was at 
 home, — and she promised ! Night came, and 
 I returned. I heard her story. I was sorry. 
 I doubted. But Polly had promised to beg me, 
 and I dared all ! I told Dennis to hold his 
 peace, under all circumstances, and sent him 
 down. 
 
 It was not half an hour more before he re- 
 turned, wild with excitement, — in a perfect Irish 
 fury, — which it was long before I understood. 
 But I knew at once that he had undone me ! 
 
 What happened was this. The audience got 
 together, attracted by Governor Gorges's name. 
 There were a thousand people. Poor Gorges 
 was late from Augusta. They became impa- 
 tient. He came in direct from the train at last, 
 really ignorant of the object of the meeting. 
 He opened it in the fewest possible words, and 
 said other gentlemen were present who would 
 entertain them better than he. The audience 
 were disappointed, but waited. The Governor, 
 prompted by Isaacs, said, " The Honorable 
 Mr. Delafield will address you." Delafield had 
 forgotten the knives and forks, and was playing
 
 212 EDWARD EVERETT HALE. 
 
 the Ruy Lopez opening at tlie chess-club. 
 " The Rev. Mr. Auchmuty will address you." 
 Auchmuty had promised to speak late, and was 
 at the school-committee. " I see Dr. Stearns 
 in the hall ; perhaps he will say a word." Dr. 
 Stearns said he had come to listen and not to 
 speak. The Governor and Isaacs whispered. 
 The Governor looked at Dennis, who was re- 
 splendent on the platform ; but Isaacs, to give 
 him his due, shook his head. But the look was 
 enough. A miserable lad, ill-bred, who had 
 once been in Boston, thought it would sound 
 well to call for me, and peeped out, " Ingham ! " 
 A few more wretches cried, " Ingham ! Ing- 
 ham ! " Still Isaacs was firm: but the Gov- 
 ernor, anxious, indeed, to prevent a row, knew 
 I would say something, and said, " Our friend, 
 Mr. Ingham, is always prepared ; and, though 
 we had not relied upon him, he will say a word 
 perhaps." Applause followed, which turned 
 Dennis's head. He rose, fluttered, and tried 
 No. 3 : " There has been so much said, and, on 
 the whole, so well said, that I will not longer 
 occupy the time ! " and sat down, looking for 
 his hat ; for things seemed squally. But the 
 people cried, " Go on ! go on ! " and some ap- 
 plauded. Dennis, still confused, but flattered
 
 MV DOUBLE, AND HOW HE UNDID ME. 233 
 
 by the applause, to which neither he nor I are 
 used, rose again, and this time tried No. 2 : " I 
 am very glad you liked it ! " in a sonorous, clear 
 delivery. My best friends stared. All the 
 people who did not know me personally yelled 
 with delight at the aspect of the evening ; the 
 Governor was beside himself, and poor Isaacs 
 thought he was undone ! Alas, it was I ! A 
 boy in the gallery cried in a loud tone, " It *s 
 all an infernal humbug," just as Dennis, waving 
 his hand, commanded silence, and tried No. 4: 
 " I agree, in general, with my friend the other 
 side of the room." The poor Governor doubted 
 his senses and crossed to stop him, — not in 
 time, however. The same gallery boy shouted, 
 " How 's your mother? " and Dennis, now com- 
 pletely lost, tried, as his last shot. No. i, vainly : 
 " Very well, thank you ; and you ? " 
 
 I think I must have been undone already. 
 But Dennis, like another Lockhard, chose " to 
 make sicker." The audience rose in a whirl of 
 amazement, rage, and sorrow. Some other im- 
 pertinence, aimed at Dennis, broke all restraint, 
 and, in pure Irish, he delivered himself of an 
 address to the gallery, inviting any person who 
 wished to fight to come down and do so, — 
 stating that they were all dogs and cowards
 
 234 EDWARD EVERETT HALE. 
 
 and the sons of dogs and cowards, — that he 
 would take any five of them single-handed. 
 " Shure, I have said all his Riverence and the 
 Misthrcss bade me say," cried he in defiance ; 
 and, seizing the Governor's cane from his hand, 
 brandished it, quarter-staff fashion, above his 
 head. He was, indeed, got from the hall only 
 with the greatest difificulty by the Governor, 
 the City Marshal, who had been called in, and 
 the Superintendent of my Sunday-School, 
 
 The universal impression, of course, was that 
 the Rev, Frederic Ingham had lost all command 
 of himself in some of those haunts of intoxica- 
 tion which for fifteen years I had been laboring 
 to destroy. Till this moment, indeed, that is 
 the impression in Naguadavick. This number 
 of the Atlantic will relieve from it a hundred 
 friends of mine who have been sadly wounded 
 by that notion now for years ; but I shall not 
 be likely ever to show my head there again. 
 
 No. My double has undone me. 
 
 We left town at seven the next morning. I 
 came to No. 9, in the Third Range, and set- 
 tled on the Minister's Lot. In the new towns 
 in Maine, the first settled minister has a gift of 
 a hundred acres of land. I am the first settled 
 minister in No. 9. My wife and little Paulina
 
 My DOUBLE, AND HOW HE UNDID ME. 235 
 
 are my parish. We raise corn enough to live 
 on in summer. We kill bear's meat enough to 
 carbonize it in winter. I work on steadily on 
 my " Traces of Sandemanianism in the Sixth 
 and Seventh Centuries, which I hope to per- 
 suade Phillips, Sampson, & Co. to publish next 
 year. We are very happy, but the world thinks 
 we are undone. — 7/", yes, ajid perhaps.
 
 RICHARD MALCOLM JOHNSTON. 
 
 (born, 1822.) 
 
 THE VARIOUS LANGUAGES OF BILLY MOON. 
 To surrender ere th' assault. — Hudibras. 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 NOT all, and not a majority, of personal 
 combats in the far South forty years 
 ago, at court grounds and muster fields, sprang 
 from personal hostilities, previous or sudden. 
 They were resorted to often as a trial of su- 
 perior strength, agility, or endurance. In such 
 encounters, one who would seek for a pistol, a 
 knife, or even a walking-stick, was considered 
 unmanly. Not thus, however, at least com- 
 monly, he who, when overcome and prostrate, 
 cried " Enough." Such conduct was under- 
 stood merely as an admission, technically 
 termed " word," that the defeated yielded for 
 the present only, and with reserve of right and 
 intention to renew the combat in other circum- 
 stances which might occur, whether on that 
 
 236
 
 LANGUAGES OF BILLY MOON. 237 
 
 same or some subsequent day. The victor was 
 expected to suspend his blows at this admis- 
 sion. Sometimes, when the bottom man re- 
 fused to yield, and seemed to prefer being 
 beaten into a jelly, bystanders, somewhat be- 
 fore such result, would drag off the top man. 
 Then both combatants, though with blackened 
 eyes and bruised faces, panting and hobbling, 
 would repair to the grocery, take a social grog, 
 and, with mutual compliments, have a cordial 
 understanding to repeat the fight at some con- 
 venient time after. 
 
 This preface was due to Mr. Oglethorpe Josh 
 Green, whose conduct upon a certain occasion 
 might otherwise be somewhat misunderstood. 
 One other item — as a postscript, as it were, 
 to the above — I should mention. In those 
 times, many country people of the humbler and 
 less cultivated sort, when mention was made of 
 a person afflicted with a native incurable in- 
 firmity, bodily or mental, usually spoke of him 
 or her as of the neuter gender, employing the 
 pronoun it. 
 
 Mr. (Oglethorpe) Josh Green, so styled to 
 distinguish him from his cousin of that name in 
 Elbert, had whipped out every thing in his sec- 
 tion, and in search of other conquests he once
 
 238 RICHARD MALCOLM JOHNSTON. 
 
 came some miles southward. It was muster- 
 day for the Dukesborough battalion. A few 
 from the upper borders of the county had heard 
 of his exploits, and one or two had seen him 
 theretofore. A man like him, however, needed 
 not to have friends, or even acquaintances, as, 
 when a fight was to be made up, an entire 
 stranger could easily obtain backers who would 
 see to the maintenance of fair play. 
 
 When the muster was over, and O. J. G. (as 
 he sometimes called himself, and was called by 
 others, for short) had looked calmly upon 
 several fights, he seemed to be disgusted. 
 
 " You people down here don't 'pear to know 
 how to fight," said he. " It 'pears like you 
 want to have somebody that do know how for 
 to come down here and larn you." 
 
 It was a voice loud, harsh, powerful. People 
 looked at him. Indeed, he had already at- 
 tracted much attention. About thirty or thirty- 
 two years of age, five feet eleven, weighing one 
 hundred and sixty, or maybe more, dark- 
 skinned, his black hair cut short, without an 
 ounce of surplus flesh, from his head to his feet 
 he seemed as if he had been wrought out of 
 iron. As he walked up and down, composedly 
 uttering challenges, there did not seem to be a
 
 LANGUAGES OF BILLY MOON. 239 
 
 likelihood that he could find one to encounter 
 him. 
 
 Bob Hatchett did say that but for his fatigue 
 (having just now had a turn with Bill Giles, and 
 got Bill's word) he would give him a trial, and 
 take a few — jes' a few — of his lessons. 
 
 The warrior had money, and he exhibited it 
 as a temptation. Holding forth his buckskin 
 purse, he said, after beginning with a dollar, 
 and gradually ascending : 
 
 " Gentlemen, in this here money-puss is four 
 dollars, lackin* sevenpence. Two dollars and a 
 half o' that money it would be my desires to 
 put mto the money-puss of the man that can 
 git my word in a fight here to-day. The dollar 
 one and nine that would be left would be 
 enough to take me back home, and which, 
 in sich a case, arfter sich fightin' as I seen 
 here, I should n't desires to leave it no more, 
 leastways to come this way." 
 
 Such as that looked like a shame. Finally 
 Jack Hall, who lived on Shoulder-bone, said he 
 could n't stand it. Jack himself was a man of 
 much power, though he might not have en- 
 countered O. J. G. without apprehension. 
 
 " Stranger," said Jack, " you 'pear like you — 
 you jes' a-spilin' for a fight."
 
 240 RICHARD MALCOLM JOHNSTON. 
 
 " That 's ezactly wliat I am, sir," answered 
 the stranger. " I 'm a-spihn' bad. I hain't fit 
 in so long that I 'm gittin' badly spiled. You 
 hit what 's jcs' the matter with me, the same as 
 ef you was a doctor." 
 
 " Jes' so ; and you would wish to lay down them 
 two dollars and a half, sure enough, would you ? " 
 
 " Here they are, sir, ready for you to git ; 
 and when sich a lookin' man as you do git 'em, 
 my calkilation will be to move clean away — to 
 some disolate island." 
 
 " Jes' so." Jack looked at him and reflected. 
 " I ain't ezactly in fix to-day myself ; but " — 
 he paused, took out his purse, and counted his 
 money — " I hain't but a dollar, half, and seven- 
 pence. Ef the boys will help me make up the 
 rest, I '11 fetch a man here that '11 — that '11 go to 
 school to you for a while. I won't be gone 
 more 'n ten or fifteen minutes." 
 
 Certainly the balance can be made up ; there 
 it is already. Good gracious! the idea of a 
 whole battalion, as it were, being run off its own 
 battle-field by one man, and he a stranger ! 
 
 Jack went to look for his man. Oglethorpe 
 Josh the while stroked his head, screwed his 
 jaws, felt his muscles, and seemed to smell the 
 battle anear.
 
 LANGUAGES OF BILLY MOON. 24 1 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Inside of the time demanded, Jack was seen 
 coming up the street. SHghtly ahead of him, 
 looking back eagerly at Jack's earnest gesticula- 
 tions, walked a youth. 
 
 "Why, ef it ain't Billy Moon!" said Bob 
 Hatchett and others. "Why, Jack Hall! 
 Billy's too young to cope with that man." 
 
 " Jes' so, boys : never mind." 
 
 They came up, and Billy looked inquiringly 
 at Jack and the rest. He was full six feet high, 
 but would have weighed not more than one 
 hundred and forty pounds. He was straight as 
 an arrow — straighter, in fact ; for his back was 
 slightly swayed. Lithe, sinuous, tense without 
 constraint, his long arms seemed well capa- 
 ble of striking and of grappling. His broad- 
 brimmed hat sat jauntily on a side of his head. 
 His light hair hung in curls even below his 
 neck, and his blue eyes fairly danced with fiery 
 glee. He did not seem to be over one-and- 
 twenty years old. 
 
 " Is that your man ? " asked Oglethorpe, 
 curiously contemplating him. 
 
 " That 's him," answered Jack. 
 
 " Well, my young friend, you don't want 
 your mammy to know you when you go home
 
 242 RICHARD iMALCOLM JOHNSTON. 
 
 to-night, ch ? Your desires is to git to the old 
 lady onbcknownst like this evenin', eh ! " 
 
 Billy said not a word, but after signs from 
 Jack smiled, and nodded his head gayly. 
 
 " How do you fight ? " 
 
 Billy, after looking at Jack for a few mo- 
 ments, made several mock strokes with his fists, 
 imaginary grapplings with his arms, kickings 
 with his legs, and then seized his own throat 
 with one hand, and placed the thumb of the 
 other into the corner of one of his eyes. 
 
 Oglethorpe Josh looked at these actions 
 piercingly. Turning angrily upon Jack, he 
 said : " Who 's this you fotch here ? What is 
 he?" 
 
 " It 's Billy Moon," answered a by-stander — 
 one of those chosen as stake-holder. " He 'sas 
 respectable a man, sir, as any in this county, 
 or anywheres else, exceptin' that he 's deef and 
 dumb." 
 
 " Dccf and dumb ! " said Oglethorpe. " Ain't 
 he a egiot ? " 
 
 " Egiot ! No, sir : no egiot ; got much sense 
 as you, or anybody else on this ground, and as 
 mucii of a gentleman." 
 
 " Jes' so," said Jack Hail. 
 
 Oglethorpe scanned Billy over and over care-
 
 LANGUAGES OF BILLY MOON. 243 
 
 fully. Scratching his head, he scanned him 
 again. He looked down and reflected. After 
 reflection he raised his head, but did not seem 
 as if, even when he began to talk, he had 
 reached a definite conclusion. 
 
 " Gentlemen — I shall — that is, I shall — not — 
 yes — no — in case, yes — that is — gentlemen — I 
 — I shall — ah — I shall NOT fight it." 
 
 Oh, now ! ah, now ! yes, now ! That did 
 look like a fellow comin' all the way down from 
 Oglethorpe and openin' a school for teachin' 
 people how to fight ! 
 
 Oglethorpe reflected again, looked at Billy's 
 smiling face, and reflected yet again. Then he 
 resolved for good and all. He said, firmly: 
 " No, sirs. I shall not fight it, gentlemen ; and, 
 gentlemen, I '11 give you my reasons. You see, 
 if me and it fights, one or t' other of us is 
 got to git whipped, in the course o' time, more 
 or less. Now, ef I whip it, it can't holler, and 
 I sha'n't know it air whipped. That '11 be on- 
 fair for it. Then, agin, gentlemen, and which 
 I should n't by no means look for — but no- 
 body, exceptin' the good Lord, know the fu- 
 ter, 'specially in things like it — then agin, I say, 
 ef it should whip me, and / holler, it — it — it 
 could n't hear me ; and that, you see, gentle-
 
 244 RICHARD MALCOLM JOHNSTON. 
 
 men, would be onfair for mc. Gentlemen, no ; 
 gentlemen, I shall not fight it." 
 
 After the explosion ensuing upon this de- 
 termined refusal, and some discussion as to its 
 import and most proper consequences, it was 
 decided at last, with entire concurrence on the 
 part of Oglethorpe Josh, that it would be fair 
 to regard the money advanced, not exactly as 
 won by Bill)', nor as constituting a drawn bet, 
 but that Billy — for Jack said it should be Billy's 
 interest, and not his own — should have half the 
 deposit of Oglethorpe Josh. 
 
 When Jack had communicated this decision 
 to Billy, the brightness in an instant fled from 
 his face, and he glanced around resentfully 
 upon all. Then he looked upon the ground for 
 a moment thoughtfully, putting his hand to his 
 ear. Then he raised his head, his face putting 
 on a conditional smile, looked at Oglethorpe, 
 hugged himself, twisted his legs about, made a 
 long mark upon the ground, struck his left 
 forefinger with his right, and uttering several 
 guttural sounds from his throat, looked at Jack 
 as if he were not yet entirely through with giv- 
 ing expression to his ideas. 
 
 Oglethorpe watched Billy's actions with 
 earnest and compassionate interest. Said he :
 
 LANGUAGES OF BILLY MOON. 245 
 
 " What do it want ? Ain't it satisfied ? Ef it 
 ain't, let it take all the money. Sooner than 
 worry the poor thing, I 'd let it have all I got. 
 I 'd— " 
 
 " Jes' so, jes' so, I know," said Jack. " But 
 that ain't what Billy 's arfter." 
 
 " Well, what is it arfter ? I can't see from 
 them doin's what it is arfter." 
 
 " Jes' so ; but me and him 's neighbors, and 
 always has been, and we understands one an- 
 other same as ef Billy could talk. Billy 's 
 arfter a wrastle with you, stranger." 
 
 " A wrastle with me ! " 
 
 ** Jes' so ; and he say ef you '11 give him a 
 wrastle, jes' a friendly wrastle, you mind, you 
 may have a dollar more o' your money, no 
 matter which gits flung ; and ef y(5u don't he '11 
 have some more words to say to you." 
 
 "Words!" ejaculated Oglethorpe. "You 
 call them things words ! Words ! more words ! 
 Them things was its langwidges, was they ? " 
 Then Mr. Oglethorpe Josh Green grinned some- 
 what, and the iron in his frame seemed to begin 
 to soften. 
 
 " Jes' so," answered Jack ; " and Billy 's got 
 more langwidges than you ever heerd of." 
 
 " More words, and in warious langwidges,"
 
 246 RICHARD MALCOLM JOHNSTON. 
 
 said O. J. G., thoughtfully. " And they means 
 it want a wrastle, and ef it can't git it, it '11 
 have more words in more warious langwidges." 
 
 Then Mr. O. J. G. regarded Billy with the 
 most intense scrutiny. It was evident that he 
 was again doubtful, but seemingly to avoid the 
 necessity of further remarks in other unknown 
 tongues, he concluded to acquiesce in Billy's 
 wishes. 
 
 " Very well, then," he said. " But, gentle- 
 men, I 'm agin this thing, and I wants it ondcr- 
 stood that cf it git hurt, I ain't responchible," 
 
 Everybody said that was right. 
 
 Then they stripped themselves. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 " What hold do it want ? " asked Mr. Ogle- 
 thorpe Josh Green. 
 
 Billy, when the question was made known to 
 him by Jack, raised and let fall first his right 
 arm, then his left, shook his head contemptu- 
 ously, then unwrapped from his finger an in- 
 visible rag, and threw it upon the ground. 
 
 " What kind o' words was them ? " asked O. 
 J.G. 
 
 " Them words," answered Jack, " them 's 
 that Billy say he don't keer, not even to the
 
 LANGUAGES OF BILLY MOON. 247 
 
 wrappin' of his fingers, which hold you give 
 him, right or left." 
 
 " Yes, I see it were somethin' about — about 
 fingers." 
 
 Mr. O. slowly scraped his upper lip with his 
 lower teeth, 
 
 " And ef I don't wrastle with it, you say- 
 it '11 — have yit more — words, and prob'ly in yit 
 more warious langwidges ? " 
 
 " Jes' so." 
 
 " Well, gentlemen," he said, resignedly ; 
 " 'member, gentlemen, I 'm agin it, and both 
 tharfore and wharfore I ain't to be respon- 
 chible." 
 
 Certainly not, unanimously. 
 
 They were hitched. Jack Hall was to give 
 the word, with a simultaneous nod to Billy. 
 Billy's eye was on Jack, bright as a rattlesnake's 
 when on the point of striking. 
 
 " Go," said Jack. 
 
 Billy, instantaneously detecting, from the 
 feel of his adversary, which was his stronger 
 side, quick as lightning swayed his back yet 
 more, slid himself an inch or two aside, brought 
 his right knee-joint against Oglethorpe's left, 
 and, simultaneously with pressure there, and a 
 resistless impulsion with his left arm, adroitly
 
 248 RICHARD MALCOLM JOHNSTON. 
 
 tripped, with his left, Oglethorpe's right foot. 
 The part of Oglethorpe that was likely to 
 strike the ground first was his head. But Billy, 
 as he was descending, softened the fall by hop- 
 ping, with the agility of a greyhound, astraddle 
 of his bod)-, which barely touched the earth. 
 There, holding Oglethorpe for a moment in his 
 arms, flinging back from his eyes his long locks, 
 he smiled in his face as a person does some- 
 times upon a child whom he has thrown up 
 into the air playfully, and caught safely on the 
 return. Then, when both had risen, he brushed 
 him carefully with his hand and his handker- 
 chief. 
 
 Omitting tiic numberless sayings, some of 
 them interesting, in that crowd, now numbering 
 a couple of hundreds or more, I confine myself 
 to the main actors. 
 
 "Well \didnt fight it!" said Oglethorpe, 
 contemplating Billy with yet enhanced interest. 
 " Ef it could ondcrstand me," he continued, 
 hesitatingly, " my desires would be to corn- 
 gratilate it, as it 's the first thing that ever laid 
 my back on the ground." 
 
 Then he extended his hand partially, which 
 Billy, when made aware of his intention, seized, 
 and cordially shook. Oglethorpe the while
 
 LANGUAGES OF BILLY MOON. 249 
 
 grinned, felt the water come into his eyes, 
 smote his knees together, and when Billy had 
 let his hand go, held it up, letting it hang 
 loosely, regarded it for a moment as something 
 entirely foreign to himself, gradually pulled its 
 fingers apart with his other hand, and seemed 
 gratified and somewhat surprised that such a 
 thing could be done. 
 
 Turning his eyes to him again, he asked, 
 heavily : " Can it drink ? Do it ever take a 
 drink ? " 
 
 " Certainly. Not as a habit, but in a social 
 way." 
 
 " It would be my desires, then, to give it a 
 treat. Tell it that I desires to treat it." 
 
 In the answer that Billy made to Jack's an- 
 nouncement of Oglethorpe's intentions, among 
 other signs which he made, was a pointing con- 
 temptuously toward the crowd, and then vio- 
 lently poking himself on the breast, as if he 
 would commit suicide, for want of a bodkin, 
 with a bare forefinger, gibbering the while in 
 his throat, not loudly, but passionately. 
 
 " My gawnamighty ! " exclaimed Oglethorpe, 
 his tongue becoming now so heavy that he 
 could not utter quite articulately himself. 
 " What kind o' wordth wath them ? "
 
 2 so RICHARD MALCOLM JOHNSTON. 
 
 " Them words," answered Jack, with the seri- 
 ousness of a person who had spent his years 
 mainly in the interpretation of foreign, espe- 
 cially dead and occult, languages — " them words 
 was this : Billy say that whiskey is a thing he 
 seldom teches." 
 
 " Thildom tctheth," repeated Oglethorpe, 
 thoughtfully, as if he would fain learn some- 
 thing of these strange tongues. 
 
 " But that yit he hain't got no partickler 
 predigice agin whiskey, nor takin' of a drink 
 hisself sometimes with a friend, or people he 
 likes, providin' that they won't want him to 
 carry it too fur, and " 
 
 " No partickler predithith agin whithkey," 
 said Oglethorpe, recoUectingly, his mind evi- 
 dently delaying upon these words, and not fol- 
 lowing Jack — at least not keeping up with him. 
 
 " But " began Jack. 
 
 " Oh, but ! " Oglethorpe's lower jaw began 
 to hang somewhat heavily, and all his iron was 
 gradually turning to lead. 
 
 " Jcs' so," resumed Jack. " Billy say that he 
 feel like it would be a disgrace on hisself, and 
 on the neighborhood in gencr'l, ef a stranger 
 was to come here among us, and we was to let 
 him do the treatin'. He say, as for sich onpo-
 
 LANGUAGES OF BILLY MOON. 25 I 
 
 liteness as that, he warn't raised to it hisself, 
 and as he 's now a man growed up, he ain't 
 goin' to begin on it at this time o' day ; and 
 furthersomore " 
 
 " On-per-lite-neth ! fur-ther-tho-more ! " re- 
 peated Oglethorpe, in a low voice. 
 
 " Jes' so : and furthersomore, Billy say, ef 
 you '11 jine with him, and at his expense, he '11 
 spend the rest o' the money in a gener'l treat." 
 
 Oglethorpe waited a moment, not sure that 
 Jack was quite through with his translations. 
 
 " Them — ah, them wath ith langwitheth, 
 wath they ? " 
 
 " They was ; his very words." 
 
 ** And ef I don't agree to 'em, I th'pothe 
 he '11 be arfter uthin' yit more wariouth oneth ? " 
 
 " Jes so. 
 
 " I givth it up, then." 
 
 They all repaired to Fan's grocery. Billy 
 laid his money on the counter, and the treat 
 was accepted heartily all around. 
 
 " Gentlemen," then said Oglethorpe, " I 'm 
 sorry to part from you ; but my business calls 
 me, and I must bid you farewell." 
 
 Taking one more earnest, studious look at 
 Billy, he thrust his hands into his pocket. Then 
 saying to Jack Hall, " Tell it farewell for me,"
 
 252 RICHARD MALCOLM JOHNSTON. 
 
 he immediately turned, left the grocer}', and 
 shortly afterward the town. 
 
 From this time Mr. Oglethorpe Josh Green 
 began to keep himself more at or about his 
 home, and to grow more quiet and meditative. 
 Occasionally, when he was at the court-house, 
 or Wright's store, and others had been telling 
 of the strange things they had seen in foreign 
 parts, after listening with doubtful interest to 
 their narrations, he would point with his mere 
 thumb vaguely and distantly toward the far 
 South, and calling to mind what in the times 
 when he was a traveller he had seen, say about 
 thus : 
 
 " Gentlemen, it were a kind of a egiot ; and 
 it were grippy as a wise, and it were supple as a 
 black-snake, and it were strong as a mule and a 
 bull both putten together. And, gentlemen," 
 he would add, " cgiot as it were, it were smarter'n 
 any man ever / see ; and as for its langwidges 
 — well, gentlemen, they wa'n't no ecnd to its 
 warious langwidges." — Harper s Magazine, Au- 
 gust, i88i.
 
 CHARLES GODFREY LELAND. 
 
 (born, 1824.) 
 
 A MUSICAL DUEL. 
 
 I KNOW a story," suddenly exclaimed 
 Count d'Egerlyn, one evening as we 
 were taking supper at our parlor in the St. 
 Nicholas, in New York. Now if the count had 
 suddenly sung, " I know a bank whereon the 
 wild thyme blows," he would not have excited 
 more astonishment. For though the count was 
 a gentleman of wit, a finished cosmopolite, and 
 a thorough good fellow, and had moreover a 
 beautiful wife, he was never known to tell 
 tales of any description, either in school or out 
 of it. 
 
 At the word upstarted Wolf Short and young 
 
 C , the latter declaring that he was, like 
 
 Time, all ears, while the former, listening as if 
 dreaming, 
 
 heard him half in awe ; 
 
 While Cabana's smoke came streaming 
 Through his open jaw. 
 
 253
 
 254 CHARLES GODFREY LELAND. 
 
 In a calm, bland voice, our good count pro- 
 ceeded to narrate a curious incident, which I 
 long afterward reduced to writing. As I re- 
 member it, the story would have been far better 
 had it been given in the exact words in which 
 it was originally told. But, alas ! it was hardly 
 concluded ere we had to scramble off to a party, 
 and the next day we went all together to Bos- 
 ton ; and it probably would never have been 
 written out at all, had I not just been reminded 
 of it by hearing "our nigger" Tom whistling 
 through the hall, the air on which it is founded. 
 
 "Vitace. 
 
 T r — • r 
 
 Mendelssohn was a great musician. 
 
 Mendelssohn signifies " The son of an al- 
 mond." Had he been a twin, they would liavc 
 christened him PJiilip-iiia. 
 
 But as he was a Jew, they could not ckristcn 
 him. And as he was not a twin, he conse- 
 quently remained single. 
 
 Which did not, however, prevent him from 
 being wedded to Divine Lady Music, as ama- 
 teurs call her.
 
 A MUSICAL DUEL. 255 
 
 Mendelssohn composed " Songs without 
 words." Many modern poets give us words 
 without songs. 
 
 "They should n't do so." 
 
 The story which I am about to relate is that 
 of a duel which was fought as Mendelssohn's 
 songs were sung — without words. The insult, 
 the rejoinder, the rebutter, the sur-rebutter, and 
 the challenge were all whistled. 
 
 But as, according to Fadladeen in Lalla 
 Rookh, it is impossible even for an angel to 
 carry a sigh in his hand, the reader will not find 
 it strange that such an imperfect sinner as my- 
 self should find it difficult to whistle on paper 
 or in print. 
 
 I will, therefore, take the liberty of represent- 
 ing by words the few notes which were whistled 
 upon this melancholy occasion. The which 
 notes are given at the beginning of this 
 story. 
 
 And here the intelligent reader may remark 
 that most authors put their notes at the end of 
 their works. Mine, however, come before. 
 
 An Englishman was once seated in solitary 
 silence in the Caf6 de France, solemnly sipping 
 sherry and smoking a cigar. His reverie was 
 unbroken, and his only desire on earth was that 
 it should continue so.
 
 256 CHARLES GODFREY LELAND. 
 
 Suddenly entered (as from the Grand Opera) 
 a gay Frenchman, merrily whistling that odd 
 little air from Robert U Diable, so well known 
 to all admirers of Meyerbeer and contemners of 
 worldly wealth or sublunary riches: 
 
 Oh, but gold is a chimera ! 
 Money all a fleeting dream ! * 
 
 Now the interruption vexed our Englishman. 
 At any time he would have wished the 
 Frenchman in Jerusalem. At present, the 
 whistling so much disturbed him, that he 
 wished him in a far less holy place. Mind ! I do 
 not mean New York, though it be, like Milton's 
 scaly sorceress, close by the " Gate of Hell." 
 
 Therefore, in a firm and decided tone (which 
 said, as plainly as if he had spoken it, " I wish, 
 sir, you would hold your tongue "), he whistled — 
 
 Oh, Init gold is a chimera ! 
 Money all a fleeting dream ! 
 
 But the Frenchman was in high feather, and 
 not to be bluffed. He had had a dinner and a 
 gloria o[ coffee and brandy, and some eausucrde 
 
 * Folle i quel che Foro aduna 
 E nol sa come Jenifer, 
 Non prcnSgiavtmai fortuna, 
 Cfu sta lunga dal piacer.
 
 A MUSICAL DUEL. 257 
 
 and a glass of bruleau (which, like crambavibuli, 
 consists of burnt brandy or rum, with sugar). He 
 had had a cigarette, or a four-cent government 
 cigar (I forget which), had winked at a pretty 
 girl in the opera, and finally had heard the 
 opera and Grisi. In fact, he had experienced a 
 perfect bender. Now a bender is a batter, and 
 a batter is a spree, and a spree is a jollification. 
 And the tendency of a jollification is to exalt 
 the mind and elevate the feelings. Therefore 
 the feelings of the Frenchman were exalted, and 
 in the coolest, indifferentest, impudentest, pro- 
 vokingest manner in the world, he answered in 
 whistling — 
 
 Oh, but gold is a chimera ! 
 Money all a fleeting dream ! 
 
 Which, being interpreted, signified, " I care not 
 a fig for the world in general — or you, sir, in 
 particular ! Stuff that you are ! Out upon you ! 
 Parbleu ! Bah ! 
 
 " Do you think that because you are silent, 
 all the world must be mum ? Par-r-r-r-r- 
 bleu! Am I to sneeze because you snuff? 
 Par-r-r-r-bleu! Ought I to blush because 
 you are well read ? Par- r- r- r- r- r- r-bleu ! 
 Tra-li-ra ! Go to ! " 
 
 All these words were distinctly intelligible
 
 258 CHARLES GODFREY LELAND. 
 
 in the chimes, intonations, and accentuations 
 of the Frenchman's whistle. And to make as- 
 surance doubly sure, he sat himself down at 
 the same tetc-h-tete table whereon the English- 
 man leaned, at the opposite seat ; and dis- 
 placing, with an impudent little shove, his 
 cigar-case, continued to whistle, with all man- 
 ner of irritating variations and aggravating 
 canary-bird trills, his little air — 
 
 Oh, but gold is a chimera ! 
 Money all a fleeting dream ! 
 
 What I now wish you to believe is that John 
 Bull was in no wise either flattered or gratified 
 by these little marks of attention. Drawing 
 back in his chair, he riveted a stare of silent 
 fury on the Frenchman, which might have 
 bluffed a buffalo, and then, in deliberate, cast- 
 iron accents, slowly whistled, as he rose from 
 the table and beckoned his foe to follow, the 
 air which had so greatly incensed him — 
 
 Oh, but gold is a chimera ! 
 Money all a fleeting dream ! 
 
 Now this last instrumcnto-vocal effort did 
 not express much, — but the little it rt'/V/ express 
 went, like the widow's oil or a Paixhan shot, a 
 great way. It simply signified —
 
 A MUSICAL DUEL. 259 
 
 " Coffee and pistols for two — without the 
 coffee ! " 
 
 To which the Frenchman, with a bow of the 
 intensest poHteness, repHed — toiijoiirs en sijfflant 
 — always in whistling — 
 
 Oh, but gold is a chimera ! 
 Money all a fleeting dream ! 
 
 Which was not much more, and certainly no 
 less than — 
 
 " Oh, if you come to that, two can play at 
 that game. Poor devil ! what a loss you will 
 be to the worthy and estimable society of 
 muffs and slow coaches ! What will that ex- 
 cellent individual, Milady Popkins, remark, 
 when she hears that I have settled the account 
 of her son without a surplus ? After you, sir, 
 if you please ! I will directly have the pleasure 
 of following and killing you." 
 
 Out of the cafe, and along the boulevards, 
 strode the Englishman, followed by his new 
 acquaintance, both "whistling as they went" — 
 certainly not " from want of thought." Whether 
 it was " to keep their courage up," is not writ- 
 ten in history. 
 
 They soon reached a hall, where the English- 
 man offered the only weapons in his possession,
 
 26o CHARLES GODFREY LELAND. 
 
 excepting " maulies," or fists, — and these were 
 a pair of rapiers. 
 
 And here it would appear, gracious reader, 
 (if you arc gracious,) that either I, or the 
 Frenchman, or both of us, made a great mis- 
 take, when we understood the Englishman, by 
 the sounds he uttered in his challenge, to 
 signify the whistle of pistol-bullets. It appears 
 that it was the whiz of swords, to which he had 
 reference. But the Frenchman, who believed 
 himself good at all things in general, and the 
 ficiircttc in particular, made no scruples, but — 
 drawing his sword with a long whistle — struck 
 a salute, and held up a beautiful guard, accom- 
 panying every movement with a note from the 
 original air of — 
 
 Oh, but gold is a chimera ! 
 Money all a fleeting dream ! 
 
 And now, reader, had I the pen of the blind 
 old man of Scio's rocky isle, I would describe 
 thee a duel in the real comme il faut, two-thirty 
 style. Every note of the air was accompanied 
 by a thrust or a parry. When the Englishman 
 made a thrust of low carte sccondc, the French- 
 man guarded with a semicircle parade, or an 
 octave (I forget which). When the Frenchman
 
 A MUSICAL DUEL. 26 1 
 
 made an appel, a beat, or a glissade, the 
 Englishman, in no wise put out, either re- 
 mained firm or put in a time thrust. Both 
 marking time with the endless refrain — 
 
 Oh, but gold is a chimera ! 
 Money all a fleeting dream ! 
 
 At last, an untimely thrust from the English- 
 man's rapier settled the business. The French- 
 man fell — dropped his sword — and whistled in 
 slower, slower measure and broken accents, for 
 the last time, his little melody. 
 
 Reader, I have no doubt that you have 
 heard, ere now, the opera of Lucia di Lanimer- 
 moor, and can well recall the dying struggles 
 and perishing notes of Edgardo — 
 
 Se di-vi-si fummo in ter-ra, 
 Ne cong-iun-ga ne congiung-a il Nume in ciel ! 
 Ne con-giun-ga, ah ! oh ! — Num' in ciel — 
 I-o — ti-i — se-guo ! — oh ! — oh ! 
 
 And so it was with our poor Frenchman, who 
 panted forth, game to the last — 
 
 " Oh, — but g-'g-'gold is a chi-mera ! 
 M-'m-'mon-ey but a fleece — " 
 
 And here — borne on the wings of a last ex- 
 piring whistle — his soul took its flight. 
 
 Not a word had been spoken by either of the 
 combatants ! — Meister Karl's Sketch-Book.
 
 262 CHARLES GODFRE V LELAND. 
 
 schnitzerl's PIIILOSOPEDE. 
 pardt firsdt. 
 
 Herr Schnitzerl make a philosopede, 
 
 Von of de pullyest kind ; 
 It vent mitout a vheel in front, 
 
 And had n't none pchind. 
 Von vhccl vas in de mittel, dough, 
 
 And it vent as sure as ecks, 
 For he shtraddlcd on de axle dree 
 
 Mit de vheel petwccn his Iccks. 
 
 Und ven he vant to shtart id off 
 
 He paddlct mit his veet, 
 Und soon he cot to go so vast 
 
 Dat avery dings he peat. 
 He run her out on Broader shtreed, 
 
 He shkeeted like dcr vind, 
 Hei ! how he bassed de vancy crabs, 
 
 And Icf dcm all pchind ! 
 
 De veilers mit de trottin nags 
 Pooled oop to see him bass ; 
 
 De Dcutschers all crstaunished saidt : 
 ' ' Pot ztau scud ! 1 1 \is ist das ? ' ' 
 
 Boot vaster shtill dcr Schnitzerl flewed 
 On — mit a gashtly smile ;
 
 SCHNITZERLS PHILOSOPEDE. 263 
 
 He tid n't tooch de dirt, py shings ! 
 Not vonce in half a mile. 
 
 Oh, vot ish all dis earthly pliss ? 
 
 Oh, vot ish man's soocksess ? 
 Oh, vot ish various kinds of dings ? 
 
 Und vot ish hobbiness ? 
 Ve find a pank-node in de shtreedt, 
 
 Next dings der pank is preak ; 
 Ve foils, und knocks our outsides in, 
 
 Ven ve a ten shtrike make. 
 
 So vas it mit der Schnitzerlein 
 
 On his philosopede. 
 His feet both shlipped outsideward shoost 
 
 Vhen at his extra shpeed. 
 He felled oopon der vheel of course ; 
 
 De vheel like blitzen flew : 
 Und Schnitzerl he was schnitz * in vact 
 
 For id shlished him grod f in two. 
 
 Und as for his philosopede, 
 
 Id cot so shkared, men say. 
 It pounded onward till it vent 
 
 Ganz X teufelwards afay. 
 
 * Cut. f Straight. % Quite.
 
 264 CHARLES GODFREY LELAND. 
 
 Boot vherc ish now de Schnitzerl's soul ? 
 
 Vere dos his shbirit pide ? 
 In Himmel troo de entlcss plue 
 
 It takes a mcdeor ride. 
 
 — Breit^nann Ballads. 
 
 SELECTION FROM BREITMANN'S GOING TO 
 
 CHURCH. 
 
 Breitmann had led his troopers out of Nashville for the 
 purpose of visiting a distant church, partly in order to satisfy 
 his " religios Gefuhl" and partly because an "intelligent 
 contraband " had brought information that " There 's twenty 
 barr'ls of whisky in dat Tabernacle sure." 
 
 All rosen red de mornin fair 
 
 Shone gaily o'er de hill, 
 All violet plue de shky crew teep 
 
 In rifer, pond und rill. 
 All cloudy grey de limeshtone rocks 
 
 Coom oop troo dimmcrin wood ; 
 All shnowy vite in mornin light 
 
 De shoorsh pefore dem shtood. 
 
 " Now loudet veil de Organ oop, 
 
 To drill mit solemn fear; 
 Und ring als6 dat Lumpenglock, 
 
 To pring de beoples here. 
 Und if it prings guerillas down, 
 
 Vc 'II gife dem, py de Lord !
 
 GOING TO CHURCH. 265 
 
 De low mass of de sabre, und 
 De high mass of de cord ! 
 
 " Du Eberl^ aus Freiburg, 
 
 Du bist ein Musikant. 
 Top-sawyer on de counter-point 
 
 Und buster in discant. 
 To dee de soul of music 
 
 All innerly ish known, 
 Du canst mit might fullenden 
 
 De art of orgel-ton. 
 
 " Derefore a Miserere 
 
 Vilt dou, be-ghostet, spiel ; 
 Und vake re-rais^d yearnin. 
 
 Also a holy feel : — 
 Pe referent, men — rememper 
 
 Dis ish a Gotteshaus — 
 Du, Conrad, — go along de aisles, 
 
 Und schenk de whisky aus ! " 
 
 Dey blay crate dings from Mozart, 
 
 Beethoven und M6hul, 
 Mit chorals of Sebastian Bach, 
 
 Sooplime und peaudiful. 
 Der Breitmann feel like holy saints, 
 
 De tears roon down his fuss.
 
 266 CHARLES GOD PRE Y LELAND. 
 
 Und he sopped out : " Gott verdammich — dis 
 1st wahres Kunstgenuss ! " 
 
 Der Eberl6 blayed oop so high 
 
 He make de rafters ring. 
 Der Eberld blayed lower, und 
 
 Ve heardt der Breitmann sing. 
 Like a dronin wind in piney woods, 
 
 Like a nightly moanin sea. 
 Ash he dinked on Sonntags long agone 
 
 Vhen a poy in Germany. 
 
 Und louder und mit louder tone 
 
 High oop de orgel blowed, 
 Und plentifuller efer yet 
 
 Around de whisky gocd. 
 Dey singed ash if mit singin dey 
 
 Might indo Himmel win : — 
 I dink in all dis land soosh shprees 
 
 Ash yet hafe ncfcr pcen. 
 
 Vhen in de Abcndsonnenschcin, 
 Mit doost-cloudts troo de door. 
 
 All plack ash night in goldnen lighdt 
 Dere shtood cin schwartzer Mohr. 
 
 Dat contrapand so wild und weh, 
 Mit eye-palls glarin round,
 
 GOING TO CHURCH. 267 
 
 Und cried : " For Gott's sake, hoory oop ! 
 De reps ish gomin down ! " 
 
 Und vhile he yet vas shpeakin, 
 
 A far-off soundt pegan, 
 Down rollin from de moundain, 
 
 Of many a ridersmann. 
 Und vhile de waves of musik 
 
 Vere rollin o'er deir heads, 
 Dey heard a foice a schkreemin : 
 
 " Pile out of thar, you Feds ! 
 
 " For we uns ar' a comin 
 
 For to guv to you uns fits, 
 And knock you into brimstun, 
 
 And blast you all to bits — " 
 Boot ere it done ids shpeakin 
 
 Dere vas order in de band. 
 Ash Breitmann, mit an awefool stim 
 
 Out-dondered his gommand. 
 
 Und ash fisch-hawk at a mackarel 
 
 Doth make a splurgin flung, 
 Und ash eagles dab de flsch-hawks 
 
 Ash if de gods were young ; 
 So from all de doors und vindows, 
 
 Like shpiders down deir webs,
 
 268 CHARLES GODFREY LELAND. 
 
 De Dootch went at dcir horses, 
 Und de horses at de rebs. 
 
 Crate shplendors of de treadful 
 
 Verc in dat pattle rush ; 
 Crate vights mit swordt und carpine 
 
 Py efery fence and bush ; 
 Ash panters vight mit crishes 
 
 In famished mordcr fits — 
 For de rebs vere mad ash boison, 
 
 Und de Dootch ver droonk as blitz. 
 
 Yet vild ash vas dis pattle, 
 
 So quickly vas it o'er : — 
 O vhy moost I forefer 
 
 Pestain mine page mit gore ! 
 Py liddle und py liddlc, 
 
 Dey drawcd dcmsclfs afay ; 
 Oft toornin round to vighten, 
 
 Like booffaloes at bay. 
 
 De scattcrin shots grew fewer, 
 De scatterin gries more shlow ; 
 
 Und furdcr troo de forest 
 Ve heared dcm vainter crow. 
 
 Ve gifc von shout — " Victoria ! " 
 Und den dcr Brcitmann said,
 
 GOIJ^G TO CHURCH. 269 
 
 Ash he wiped his ploody sabre, 
 
 " Now, poys, count oop your dead ! " 
 
 O small had peen our shoutin 
 
 For shoy, if ve had known, 
 Dat de Stossenheim im oaken Wald 
 
 Lay dyin all alone ; 
 Vhile his oldt white horse mit droopin het 
 
 Look dumbly on him down, 
 Ash if he dinked, " Vy lyest dou here 
 
 Vhile fightin 's goin on ?" 
 
 Und dreams coom o'er de soldier. 
 
 Slow dyin on de eart. 
 Of a Schloss afar in Baden, 
 
 Of his mutter, und nople birt — 
 Of poverty und sorrow 
 
 Vhich drofe him like de wind — 
 Und he sighed : " Ach weh, for de lofed ones 
 
 Who wait so far pehind ! " 
 
 " Wohl auf, my soul o'er de moundains ! 
 
 Wohl auf — well ofer de sea ! 
 Dere 's a frau dat sits in de Odenwald, 
 
 Und shpins, und dinks of me. 
 Dere 's a shild ash blays in de greenin grass, 
 
 Und sings a liddle hymn,
 
 270 CHARLES GODFREY L ELAND. 
 
 Und learns to shpeak a fader's name 
 Dat she ncfer will shpcak to him. 
 
 " But mordal life ends shortly, 
 
 Und Heafen's life is long — 
 Wo bist du, Brcitmann ? — glaub'es — 
 
 Gott suffers no ding wrong. 
 Now I die like a Christian soldier ; 
 
 My head oopon my sword : — 
 In nomine Donmie I " 
 
 Vas Stossenheim his word. 
 
 O, derc vas bitter wailcn 
 
 Vhcn Stossenheim vas found, 
 Efcn from dose dere lyin 
 
 Fast d)'in on de grount. 
 Boot time vas short for vaiten, 
 
 De shades vcre gadderin dim ; 
 Und I nefer shall forget it, 
 
 De hour ve puried him. 
 
 De tramp of horse und soldiers 
 
 Vas all dc funeral knell, 
 De ring of sporn und carpine 
 
 Vas all de sacrin bell. 
 Mit hoontin knife und sabre 
 
 Dcy digged de grave a span ; 
 From German eyes blue gleam in 
 
 De holy water ran.
 
 GOING TO CHURCH. 2/1 
 
 Mit moss-grown shticks und bark-thong 
 
 De plessed cross ve made, 
 Und put it vhere de soldier's head 
 
 Toward Germany vas laid. 
 Dat grave is lost mid dead leafs, 
 
 De cross is gone afay, 
 Boot Gott will find der reiter 
 
 Oopon de Youngest Day. 
 
 Und dinkin of de fightin, 
 
 Und dinkin of de dead, 
 Und dinkin of de Organ, 
 
 To Nashville Breitmann led. 
 Boot long dat rough oldt Hanserl 
 
 Vas ernsthaft, grim und kalt, 
 Shtill dinkin of de heart's friend, 
 
 He 'd left im gruenen Wald. 
 
 De verses of dis boem 
 
 In Heidelberg I write. 
 De night is dark around me, 
 
 De shtars apove are bright. 
 Studenten im den Gassen 
 
 Make singen many a song, 
 Ach Faderland ! — wie bist du weit ! 
 
 Ach Zeit ! — wie bist du lang !
 
 GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS. 
 
 (born, 1824.) 
 
 FROM THE SUMMER DIARY OF MINERVA 
 TATTLE. 
 
 Newport, August. 
 
 IT certainly is not papa's fault that he does n't 
 understand French ; but he ought not 
 to pretend to. It does put one in such uncom- 
 fortable situations occasionally. In fact, I think 
 it would be quite as well if we could sometimes 
 " sink the paternal," as Timon Croesus says. I 
 suppose everybody has heard of the awful 
 speech pa made in the parlor at Saratoga. My 
 dearest friend. Tabby Dormouse, told me she 
 had heard of it everywhere, and that it was ten 
 times as absurd each time it was repeated. By- 
 the-bye, Tabby is a dear creature, is n't she ? 
 It 's so nice to have a spy in the enemy's camp, 
 as it were, and to hear every thing that every- 
 body says about you. She is not handsome, — 
 poor, dear Tabby ! There 's no denying it, but 
 she can't help it. I was obliged to tell young 
 
 273
 
 DIARY OF MINERVA TATTLE. 273 
 
 Downe so, quite decidedly, for I really think he 
 had an idea she was good-looking. The idea of 
 Tabby Dormouse being handsome ! But she is 
 a useful little thing in her way ; one of my inti- 
 mates. 
 
 The true story is this. 
 
 Ma and I had persuaded pa to take us to 
 Saratoga, for we heard the English party were 
 to be there, and we were anxious they should 
 see some good society, at least. It seems such 
 a pity they should n't know what handsome 
 dresses we really do have in this country ! And 
 I mentioned to some of the most English of 
 our young men, that there might be something 
 to be done at Saratoga. But they shrugged 
 their shoulders, especially Timon Croesus and 
 Gauche Boosey, and said — 
 
 " Well, really, the fact is, Miss Tattle, all the 
 Englishmen I have ever met are— in fact— a 
 little snobbish. However." 
 
 That was about what they said. But I 
 thought, considering their fondness of the Eng- 
 lish model in dress and manner, that they might 
 have been more willing to meet some genuine 
 aristocracy. Yet, perhaps, that handsome Col. 
 Abattew is right in saying with his grand mili- 
 tary air, —
 
 274 GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS. 
 
 " The British aristocracy, madam, — the Brit- 
 ish aristocracy is vulgar," 
 
 Well, we all went up to Saratoga. But the 
 distinguished strangers did not come. I held 
 back that last muslin of mine, the yellow one, 
 embroidered with the Alps, and a distant view of 
 the isles of Greece worked on the flounces, until 
 it was impossible to wait longer. I meant to 
 wear it at dinner the first day they came, with 
 the pearl necklace and the opal studs, and that 
 heavy ruby necklace (it is a low-necked dress). 
 The dining-room at the " United States " is so 
 large that it shows off those dresses finely, and 
 if the waiter does n't let the soup or the gravy 
 slip, and your neighbor, (who is, like as not, 
 what Tabby Dormouse, with her incapacity to 
 pronounce the r, calls "some 'aw, 'uff man 
 from the country,") doesn't put the leg of his 
 chair through the dress, and if you don't muss 
 it sitting down — why, I should like to know a 
 prettier place to wear a low-necked muslin, with 
 jewels, than the dining-room of the " United 
 States " at Saratoga. . . . 
 
 I am as bad as dear Mrs. Potiphar about 
 coming to the point of my story. But the 
 truth is, that in such engrossing places as Sara 
 toga and Newport, it is hardly possible to de-
 
 DIARY OF MINERVA TATTLE. 275 
 
 termine which is the pleasantest and most 
 important thing among so many. I am so 
 fond of that old, droll Kurz Pacha, that if I 
 begin to talk about him I forget every thing 
 else. He says such nice things about people 
 that nobody else would dare to say, and that 
 everybody is so glad to hear. He is invalua- 
 ble in society. And yet one is never safe. Peo- 
 ple say he is n't gentlemanly; but when I see 
 the style of man that is called gentlemanly, I 
 am very glad he is not. All the solemn, pomp- 
 ous men who stand about like owls, and never 
 speak, nor laugh, nor move, as if they really 
 had any life or feeling, are called " gentle- 
 manly." Whenever Tabby says of a new 
 man — " But then he is so gentlemanly ! " I 
 understand at once. It is another case of 
 the well-dressed wooden image. Good heav- 
 ens! do you suppose Sir Philip Sidney, or 
 the Chevalier Bayard, or Charles Fox, were 
 "gentlemanly" in this way? Confectioners 
 who undertake parties might furnish scores of 
 such gentlemen, with hands and feet of any 
 required size, and warranted to do nothing 
 "ungentlemanly." For my part, I am inclined 
 to think that a gentleman is something positive, 
 not merely negative. And if sometimes my
 
 2/6 GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS. 
 
 friend the Pacha says a rousing and wholesome 
 truth, it is none the less gentlemanly because it 
 cuts a little. He says it 's very amusing to 
 observe how coolly we play this little farce of 
 life, — how placidly people get entangled in a 
 mesh at which they all rail, and how fiercely 
 they frown upon anybody who steps out of 
 the ring. " You tickle me and I '11 tickle }'ou ; 
 but, at all events, you tickle me," is the motto 
 of the crowd. 
 
 '' Allans!'' says he, "who cares? lead off to 
 the right and left — down the middle and up 
 again. Smile all around, and bow gracefully to 
 your partner ; then carry your heavy heart to 
 your chamber, and drown in your own tears. 
 Cheerfully, cheerfully, my dear Miss Minerva. 
 Saratoga until August, then Newport until the 
 frost, the city afterwards ; and so an endless 
 round of happiness." 
 
 And he steps off humming II scgreto per esser 
 felice ! 
 
 Well, we were all sitting in the great drawing- 
 room at the " United States." We had been 
 bowling in our morning dresses, and had rushed 
 in to ascertain if the distinguished English 
 party had arrived. They had not. They were 
 in New York, and would not come. That was
 
 DIARY OF MINERVA TATTLE. 2'jy 
 
 bad, but we thought of Newport and probable 
 scions of nobility there, and were consoled. 
 But while we were in the midst of the talk, and 
 I was whispering very intimately with that 
 superb and aristocratic Nancy Fungus, who 
 should come in but father, walking toward us 
 with a wearied air, dragging his feet along, but 
 looking very well dressed for him. I smiled 
 sweetly when I saw that he was quite presenta- 
 ble, and had had the good sense to leave that 
 odious white hat in his room, and had buttoned 
 his waistcoat. The party stopped talking as he 
 approached ; and he came up to me. 
 
 " Minna, my dear," said he, " I hear every- 
 body is going to Newport." 
 
 " Oh ! yes, dear father," I replied, and Nancy 
 Fungus smiled. Father looked pleased to see 
 me so intimate with a girl he always calls " so 
 aristocratic and high-bred-looking," and he said 
 to her — 
 
 " I believe your mother is going, Miss Fun- 
 gus? 
 
 " Oh ! yes, we always go," replied she, " one 
 must have a few weeks of Newport." 
 
 " Precisely, my dear," said poor papa, as if 
 he rather dreaded it, but must consent to the 
 hard necessity of fashion. " They say, Minna,
 
 278 GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS. 
 
 that all the parvetws are going this year, so I 
 suppose we shall have to go along." 
 
 There was a blow ! There was perfect silence 
 for a moment, while poor pa looked amiable, 
 as if he could n't help embellishing his conver- 
 sation with French graces. I waited in horror ; 
 for I knew that the girls were all tittering in- 
 side, and every moment it became more absurd. 
 Then out it came. Nancy Fungus leaned her 
 head on my shoulder, and fairly shook with 
 laughter. The others hid behind their fans, 
 and the men suddenly walked off to the win- 
 dows, and slipped on to the piazza. Papa 
 looked bewildered, and half smiled. But it was 
 a very melancholy business, and I told him that 
 he had better go up and dress for dinner. 
 
 It was impossible to stay after that. The 
 unhappy slip became the staple of Saratoga 
 conversation. Young Booscy (Mrs. Potiphar's 
 witty friend) asked Morris audibly at dinner, 
 " Where do the parvenus sit ? I want to sit 
 among the parvenus." 
 
 " Of course you do, sir," answered Morris, 
 supposing he meant the circle of the crime de 
 la crane. 
 
 And so the thing went on multiplying itself. 
 Poor papa does n't understand it yet. I don't
 
 DIARY OF MINERVA TATTLE. 279 
 
 dare to explain. Old Fungus, who prides him- 
 self so upon his family, (it is one of the very- 
 ancient and honorable Virginia families, that 
 came out of the ark with Noah, as Kurz Pacha 
 says of his ancestors, when he hears that the 
 founder of a family " came over with the Con- 
 queror,") and who cannot deny himself a joke, 
 came up to pa, in the bar-room, while a large 
 party of gentlemen were drinking cobblers, and 
 said to him with a loud laugh : 
 
 " So, all iho. parveitus are going to Newport : 
 are they. Tattle ? " 
 
 " Yes ! " replied pa innocently, " that 's what 
 they say. So I suppose we shall all have to go, 
 Fungus." 
 
 There was another roar that time, but not 
 from the representative of Noah's ark. It was 
 rather thin joking, but it did very well for the 
 warm weather, and I was glad to hear a laugh 
 against anybody but poor pa. 
 
 We came to Newport, but the story came 
 before us, and I have been very much annoyed 
 at it. . . . By-the-bye, that Polly Potiphar 
 has been mean enough to send out to Paris for 
 the very silk that I relied upon as this summer's 
 cheval de bataille, and has just received it su- 
 perbly made up. The worst of it is that it is
 
 28o GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS. 
 
 just the thing for her. She wore it at the ball 
 the other night, and expected to have crushed 
 me, in mine. Not she ! I have not summered 
 it at Newport for — well, for several years, for 
 nothing, and although I am rather beyond the 
 strict white-muslin age, I thought I could yet 
 venture a bold stroke. So I arrayed a la Daisy 
 Clover, — not too much, pas trop jciinc. And 
 awaited the onset. 
 
 Kurz Pacha saw me across the room, and 
 came up, with his peculiar smile. He did not 
 look at my dress, but he said to me, rather 
 wickedl)-, looking at my bou(}uet : 
 
 " Dear me ! I hardly hoped to see spring 
 flowers so late in the summer." 
 
 Then he raised his eyes to mine, and I am 
 conscious that I blushed. 
 
 " It 's very warm. You feel very warm, I am 
 sure, my dear Miss Tattle," he continued, look- 
 ing straight at my face. 
 
 " You arc sufficiently cool, at least, I think," 
 replied I. 
 
 " Naturally," said he, " for I 've been in the 
 immediate vicinity of the boreal pole for a half 
 an hour — a neighborhood in which, I am told, 
 even the most ardent spirits sometimes freeze, — 
 so you must pardon me if I am more than 
 usually dull, Miss Minerva."
 
 DIARY OF MINERVA TATTLE. 28 1 
 
 And the Pacha beat time to the waltz with 
 his head. 
 
 I looked at the part of the room from which 
 he had just come, and there, sure enough, in 
 the midst of a group, I saw the tall and 
 stately and still Ada Aiguille. 
 
 " He is a hardy navigator," continued Kurz 
 Pacha, " who sails for the boreal pole. It is 
 glittering enough, but shipwreck by daylight 
 upon a coral reef, is no pleasanter than by 
 night upon Newport shoals." 
 
 " Have you been shipwrecked, Kurz Pacha? " 
 asked I, suddenly. 
 
 He laughed softly : '* No, Miss Minerva, I 
 am not one of the hardy navigators ; I keep 
 close into the shore. Upon the slightest symp- 
 tom of an agitated sea, I furl my sails and creep 
 into a safe harbor. Besides, dear Miss Minna, 
 I prefer tropical cruises to the Antarctic voy- 
 age. 
 
 And the old wretch actually looked at my 
 black hair. I might have said something — ap- 
 proving his taste, perhaps, who knows ? — when 
 I saw Mrs. Potiphar. She was splendidly 
 dressed in the silk, and it 's a pity she does n't 
 become a fine dress better. She made for me 
 directly.
 
 282 GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS. 
 
 " Dear Minna, I 'm so glad to see you. Why, 
 how young and fresh you look to-night. Really, 
 quite blooming ! And such a sweet pretty 
 dress, too, and the darling baby-waist and all," 
 
 "Yes," said that witty Gauche Boosey, "per- 
 mit me. Miss Tattle, — quite an incarnate sera- 
 phim, upon my word," 
 
 "You are too good," replied I; " my dear 
 Polly, it is your dress which deserves admira- 
 tion, and I flatter myself in saying so, for it is 
 the very counterpart of one I had made some 
 months ago," 
 
 "Yes, darling, and which you have not yet 
 worn," replied she, " I said to Mr. P,, ' Mr. P.,' 
 said I, ' there are few women upon whose 
 amiability I can count as I can upon Minerva 
 Tattle's, and, therefore, I am going to have a 
 dress like hers. Most women would be vexed 
 about it, and say ill-natured things if I did so. 
 But if I have a friend, it is Minerva Tattle ; and 
 she will never grudge it to me for a moment,' 
 It's pretty; is n't it? Just look here at this 
 trimming." 
 
 And she showed me the very handsomest 
 part of it, and so much handsomer than mine, 
 that I can never wear it, 
 
 " Polly, I am so glad you know me so well,"
 
 DIARY OF MINERVA TATTLE. 283 
 
 said I. " I 'm delighted with the dress. To be 
 sure, it 's rather pro7tonc^ for your style ; but 
 that 's nothing." 
 
 Just then a polka struck up. " Come along ! 
 give me this turn," said Boosey, and putting 
 his arm round Mrs. Potiphar's waist, he whirled 
 her off into the dance. 
 
 How I did hope somebody would come to 
 ask me. Nobody came. 
 
 " You don't dance? " asked Kurz Pacha, who 
 stood by during my little talk with Polly P. 
 
 " Oh, yes," answered I, and hummed thepolka. 
 
 Kurz Pacha hummed to, looked on at the 
 dancers a few minutes, then turned to me, and 
 looking at my boquet said : 
 
 " It is astonishing how little taste there is 
 for spring flowers." 
 
 At that moment young Croesus " came in," 
 warm with the whirl of the dance, with Daisy 
 Clover. 
 
 " It 's very warm," said he, in a gentlemanly 
 manner. 
 
 " Dear me ! yes, very warm," said Daisy. 
 
 " Been long in Newport ? " 
 
 " No ; only a few days. We always come, 
 after Saratoga, for a couple of weeks. But is n't 
 it delightful?"
 
 284 GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS. 
 
 " Quite so," said Timon coolly, and smiling 
 at the idea of anybody's being enthusiastic 
 about any thing. That elegant youth has 
 pumped life dry ; and now the pump only 
 wheezes. 
 
 " Oh ! " continued Daisy, " it 's so pleasant 
 to run away from the hot city, and breathe this 
 cool air. And then Nature is so beautiful. Are 
 you fond of Nature, Mr. Croesus? " 
 
 " Tolerably," returned Timon. 
 
 " Oh ! but Mr. Croesus ! to go to the glen 
 and skip stones, and to walk on the cliff, and 
 drive to Bateman's, and the fort, and to go to 
 the beach by moonlight ; and then the bowling- 
 alley, and the archery, and the Gcrmania. Oh! 
 it *s a splendid place. But, perhaps, you don't 
 like natural scenery, Mr. Croesus?" 
 
 " Perhaps not," said Mr. Croesus. 
 
 "Well, some people don't," said darling little 
 Daisy, folding up her fan, as if quite ready for 
 another turn. 
 
 " Come now ; there it is," said Timon, and, 
 grasping her with his right arm, they glided away. 
 
 " Kurz Pacha," said I, " I wonder who sent 
 Ada Aiguille that boquet ? " 
 
 "Sir John T^ranklin, I presume," returned he. 
 
 " What do you mean by that? " asked I.
 
 DIARY OF MINERVA TATTLE. 285 
 
 Before he could answer, Boosey and Mrs. 
 Potiphar stopped by us. 
 
 *' No, no, Mr. Boosey," panted Mrs. P., " I 
 will not have him introduced. They say his 
 father actually sells dry-goods by the yard in 
 Buffalo." 
 
 " Well, but he does n't, Mrs. Potiphar." 
 
 " I know that, and it 's all very well for you 
 young men to know him, and to drink, and 
 play billiards, and smoke with him. And he is 
 handsome to be sure, and gentlemanly, and, I 
 am told, very intelligent. But, you know, we 
 can't be visiting our shoemakers and shop-men. 
 That 's the great difificulty of a watering-place, 
 one does n't know who 's who. Why, Mrs. Gnu 
 was here three summers ago, and there sat next 
 to her, at table, a middle-aged foreign gentle- 
 man, who had only a slight accent, and who 
 was so affable and agreeable, so intelligent and 
 modest, and so perfectly familiar with all kinds 
 of little ways, you know, that she supposed he 
 was the Russian Minister, who, she heard, was 
 at Newport incognito for his health. She used 
 to talk with him in the parlor, and allowed him 
 to join her upon the piazza. Nobody could 
 find out who he was. There were suspicions, 
 of course. But he paid his bills, drove his
 
 286 GEORGE IV ILL! AM CURTIS. 
 
 horses, and was universally liked. Dear me ! 
 appearances are so deceitful ! who do you think 
 he was? " 
 
 " I 'm sure I can't imagine." 
 
 " Well, the next spring she went to a music 
 store in Philadelphia, to buy some guitar strings 
 for Claribel, and who should advance to sell 
 them but the Russian Minister ! Mrs. Gnu said 
 she colored — " 
 
 " So I 'vc always understood," said Gauche, 
 laughing. 
 
 " Fie! Mr. Boosey," continued Mrs. 1\, smil- 
 ing. But the music-seller did n't betray the 
 slightest consciousness. He sold her the 
 strings, received the money, and said nothing, 
 and looked nothing. Just think of it ! She 
 supposed him to be a gentleman, and he was 
 really a music-dealer. You see that 's the sort 
 of thing one is exposed to here, and though 
 your friend may be very nice, it is n't safe for 
 me to know him. In a country where there 's 
 no aristocracy one can't be too exclusive. Mrs. 
 Peony says she thinks that in the future she 
 shall really pass the summer in a farm-house, or 
 if she goes to a watering-place, confine herself 
 to her own rooms and her carriage, and look at 
 people through the blinds. I 'm afraid myself
 
 DIARY OF MINERVA TATTLE. 287 
 
 it 's coming to that. Everybody goes to 
 Saratoga now, and you see how Newport is 
 crowded. For my part I agree with the Rev. 
 Cream Cheese, that there are serious evils in a 
 repubhcan form of government. What a hide- 
 ous head-dress that is of Mrs. Settum Downe's ! 
 What a lovely polka-redowa ! " 
 
 " So it is, by Jove ! Come on," replied the 
 gentlemanly Boosey, and they swept down the 
 hall. — Potiphar Papers. 
 
 END OF VOL. I.
 
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