LIBRARY 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 SANTA BARBARA 
 
 PRESENTED BY 
 
 Mr. H. H. Kil iani
 
 UCSB LIBRARY
 
 
 Ruins of BaaQ"bec
 
 JEDitton 
 
 THE WORKS 
 
 Of 
 
 BAYARD TAYLOR 
 
 VOLUME IV 
 
 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES 
 
 G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 
 
 NK\V YORK LONDON 
 
 27 \\KV1 TWENTY-THIRD STRF.KT 24 BEDFORD STREET, STRAND 
 
 (The tumhcrbotkrt pttss
 
 THE 
 
 LANDS OF THE SARACEN 
 
 OR 
 
 PICTURES OF PALESTINE, ASIA MINOR 
 SICILY, AND SPAIN 
 
 BAYARD TAYLOR 
 
 AUTHOR'S REVISED EDITION
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1855, by 
 
 G. P. TUTNAM, 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the South cm 
 District of New York. 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 
 
 MAKIE TAYLOR, 
 
 1863.
 
 TO 
 
 WASHINGTON IRVING 
 
 THIS book the chronicle of my travels through lands once occupied by the 
 Saracens naturally dedicates itself to you, who, more than any other American 
 author, have revived the traditions, restored the history, and illustrated the 
 character of that brilliant and heroic people. Your cordial encouragement con- 
 firmed me in my design of visiting the East, and making myself familiar with 
 Oriental life ; and though I bring you 'now but imperfect returns, I can at least 
 unite with you in admiration of a field so rich in romantic interest, and indulge 
 the hope that T may one day pluck from it fruit instead of blossoms. In Spain, 
 I came upon your track, and I should hesitate to exhibit my own gleanings where 
 you have harvested, were it not for the belief that the rapid sketches I have given 
 will but enhance, by the contrast, the charm of your finished picture. 
 
 BAYARD TAYLOR.
 
 P R E I A C E . 
 
 volume comprises the second portion of a 
 series if travels, of which the " JOURNEY TO CENTRAL 
 AFRICA./' already published, is the first part. I left 
 home, intending to spend a winter in Africa, and to 
 return during the following summer ; but circumstan- 
 ces afterwards occurred, which prolonged my wan- 
 derings to nearly two years and a half, and led me to 
 visit many remote and unexplored portions of the globe. 
 To describe this journey in a single work, would 
 embrace too many incongruous elements, to say nothing 
 of its great length, and as it falls naturally into three 
 parts, or episodes, of very distinct character, I have 
 judged it best to group my experiences under three 
 separate heads, merely indicating the links which 
 connect them. This work includes my travels in Pales- 
 tine, Syria, Asia Minor, Sicily and Spain, and will be 
 followed by a third and concluding volume, containing 
 my adventures in India, China, the Loo-Choo Islands,
 
 VI PREFACE . 
 
 and Japan. Although many of the letters, contained in 
 this volume, describe beaten tracks of travel, I have 
 always given my own individual impressions, and may 
 claim for them the merit of entire sincerity. The 
 journey from Aleppo to Constantinople, through the 
 heart of Asia Minor, illustrates regions rarely traversed 
 by tourists, and wid, no doubt, be new to most of my 
 readers. My aim, throughout the work, has been to 
 give correct pictures of Oriental life and scenery, leav- 
 ing antiquarian research and speculation to abler hands. 
 The scholar, or the man of science, may complain with 
 reason that I have neglected valuable opportunities for 
 adding something to the stock of human knowledge : 
 but if a few of the many thousands, who can only travel 
 by their firesides, should find my pages answer the pur- 
 pose of a srries of cosmoramic views should in them 
 behold with a clearer inward eye the hills of Pales- 
 tine, the sun-gilded minarets of Damascus, or the lonely 
 pine-forests of Phrygia should feel, by turns, some- 
 thing of the inspiration and the indolence of the Orient 
 I shall have achieved all I designed, and more thar 
 I can justly hope. 
 
 Hiw You, OoCofer, 1854.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 LIFE IN A SYRIAN QUARANTINE. 
 
 Voyage from Alexandria to Beyrout Landing at Quarantine The Gusrdlar.o Om 
 Quarters Our Companions Famine and Feasting The Morning The Holy Man <>f 
 Timbuctoo Sunday in Quarantine Islamism We are Registered Love through n 
 Orating Trumpets The Mystery Explained Delights of Quarantine Orient;.! v* 
 American Exaggeration A Discusaion of Politics Our Release Beyrout Prepara 
 tlons for the Pilgrimage 17 
 
 CHAPTER IL 
 
 THE COAST OP PALESTINE. 
 
 rhe Pilgrimage Commences The Muleteers The Mules The Donkey Journey to 
 Sidon The Foot of Lebanon Pictures The Ruins of Tyre A Wild Morning The 
 Tjrrian Surges Climbing the Ladder of Tyre Panorama of the Bay .if Acre The 
 Plain of Esdraelon Camp in a Garden Acre the Shore of the Bay Haifa Motm 
 Carmel and its Monastery A Deserted Coast The Ruins of Csesarea The Scenery 
 of Palestine We become Robbers El Haram Wrecks the Harbor and Town of 
 Jaflfc 32 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 FROM JAFFA TO JERUSALEM. 
 
 The Garden of Jaffa Breakfast at a Fountain The Plain of Sharon The Rn'ned 
 Moiqne of Ramleh A Judran Landscape The Streets Famleh Am I In Pale*
 
 Vlll CONTENTS. 
 
 tine ? A Heavenly Morning The Land of Milk and Honey Entering the Hill 
 Country The Pilgrim's Breakfast The Father of Lies A Church of the Crusader; 
 The Agriculture of the Hills The Valley of Klah Day-Dreams The Wilderness 
 --Tb Approach We See tie Holy City . 48 
 
 CHAPTER 17. 
 
 CHE DEAD SEA AXD THE RIVER JORDAN 
 
 3arg*laing for a Guard Departure from Jerusalem The Hill of Offence Bethany 
 The Grotto of Laiarus The Valley of Fire Scenery of the Wilderness The Hills o 
 EngatVii The shore of the Dead Sea A Bituminous Bath Gallop 10 the -ordan 
 A watch for Robbers The Jordan Baptism The Plains of Jericho The Fountaic 
 of ffiUha-- The Mount of Temptation Return to Jerusalem 60 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE OITT OF CHRIST. 
 
 Modern Jerusalem The Site of the City Mount Zion Mount Moriah The Temple 
 The Valley of Jehosaphat The Olives of Gethsemane The Mount of Olives Moslen 
 Tradition Panorama from the Summit The Interior of the City The Population- 
 Missions and Missionaries Christianity in Jerusalem Intolerance The Jews of 
 Jerusalem The Face of Christ The Church of the Holy Sepulchre The Holy of 
 Holies The Sacred Localities Visions of Christ The Mosque of Omar The Holj 
 Man of Timbuctoo Preparations for Departure . . ... 72 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE HILL-COON TRY OF PALESTINE. 
 
 leaving Jerusalem The Tombs of the Kings El Bireh The Hill-Country Firs' 
 View of Mount Hermon The Tomb of Joseph Ebal and Gerirlin- The Gardens of 
 Nablous The Samaritans The Sacred Book A Scene in the Synagogue Mentoi 
 and Telemachus Ride to Samaria The Ruins of Sebaste Scriptural Landscapes - 
 Halt at Genin The Plain of Esd -aelon Palestine and California- -The Hills of 
 Nasa -cih Accident Fra Joachim- The Church of the Virgin The Shrine of th 
 Annunciation The Holy Places . .88 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE COUNTRY OF OALILEE. 
 
 Departure from Nazareth A Christian Guile Ascent of Mount Tabor WallachiM 
 Hermits The Panorama of T.ib" -Rids to Tiberias A Hath in Gonesareth Thi
 
 CONTENTS. IX 
 
 rowers of Galilee The Mount of Beatitude M&gdala Joseph's Well Meeting 
 with a Turk The Fountain of the Salt- Works The Upper Valley of the Jordan- 
 Bummer Scenry The Rivers of Lebanon Tell el-Kadi An Arcadian Region T)u 
 PouaUlns of Bantu 103 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 CROSSING THE ANT .'-LEBANON 
 
 fhe Harmless Guard Csarea Philippl The Valley of the Druses -The Sides of Mouc- 
 Hermon An Alarm Threading a Defile Distant view of Djebel Hanaran Anothei 
 Alana Camp at Katana We Ride into Damascus ,1*5 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 PICTURES OK DAMASCUS. 
 
 Damascus from the Anti-Lebanon Entering the City A Diorama of Baiaars An 
 Oriental Hotel Our Chamber The Bazaars Pipes and Coffee The Rivers of 
 Damascus Palaces of the Jews Jewish Ladies A Christian Gentleman The Sacred 
 Localities Damascus Blades The Sword of Haroun Al-Raschid An Arrival Iron 
 Palmyra I2o 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 T H VISIONS OF HASHEESH . 133 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 A DISSERTATION ON BATHING AND BODIES . 14V 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 BAALBEC AND LEBANON. 
 
 Departure from Damascus The Fountains of the Pharpar Pass of toe Anti-Lebanon 
 Adventure with the Druses The Range of Lebanon The Demon of Hasheesr 
 departs Impressions of Baalbec The Temple of the Sun Titanic Masonry The 
 Ruinml Mosque Camp on Lebanon Rascality of the Guide The Summit of Lebanon 
 The Sacred Cedars The Christians of Lebanon An Afternoon in Eden Rugged 
 Travel We Reach the Coast- -H.Hurn to Beyrout . ... 161 
 
 1*
 
 X CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 F I P E 8 AND COFFEE. 178 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 JOURNEY TO ANTIOCH AND ALEPPO. 
 
 3hang of Plani Routei to Baghdad Aala Minor We sail from Beyrout lachtii., 
 on the Syrian Coast Tartus and Latakiyeh The Coasts of Syria The Bay of Snt, 
 diah The Mouth of the Orontes Landing The Garden of Syria Ride to Antloch 
 The Modern City The Plains of the Orontes Remains of the Greek Empire Th 
 Ancient Road The Plain of Kef tin Approach to Aleppo . . . . 186 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 LIFE IN ALEPPO. 
 
 Jnr Cntry Into Aleppo We are conducted to a House Our Unexpected Welcome- -Tb 
 Mystery Explained Aleppo--Its Name Its Situation The Trade of Aleppo Thi 
 Christians The Revolt of 1800 Present Appearance of the City Visit to Osnmn 
 Pasha The Citadel View from the Battlements Society in Aleppo Etiquette and 
 Costume-^Jewish Marriage Festivities A Christian Marriage Procession- Ride 
 around the Town Nightingales The Aleppo Button A Hospital for Oats Verbal 
 Pasha 196 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THROUGH THE STRIAN GATES 
 
 In Inauspicious Departure The Ruined Church of St. 8imn The Plain of Antloch A 
 Turcoman Encampment Climbing Akma Dagh The Syrian Gates Scanderoon An 
 American Captain Revolt of the Koorda We take a Guard The Field of Issui 
 The Robber-Chief, Kutchak All A Deserted Town A Land of Gardens . . 215 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 A I) A \ A AND TARSUS. 
 
 Fhe Black Gate The Plain of Cilicta A Koorrt Village Missis Cillclan Scenery- 
 Arrival at Adtuia Three days in Quarantine We receive Pratique A Lanrtscs tie-- 
 TV Plain of Tarsus Tin- Ri'vci Cydnus A Vision of Cleopatra Tariua and iti 
 Bnvirons The ItrnvUetanlt Tin- Moon of llamaian . ... 226
 
 CO NT NTS. XI 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THK PASS OK MOUNT TAURUS. 
 
 We eater UM Taurus Turcomans Forest Scenery the Palace of Pan Khac. Meur 
 luk Morning among the Mountains The Gorge of the Cydnus The Crag of thi 
 Fortress The Cilickm Gate Deserteil Ports A Sublime Landscape The Gorge of tht 
 Sihoon The Second Gate Camp in the Defile Sunrise Journey up the Sihocwi A 
 Change of Scenery A Pastoral Valley Klu Kushla A Deserted Kh;in A Gutst 1:. 
 Ramazan Flowers The Plain of Karamanla Barren Hills The Town of Eregli 
 The Hadji again 236 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 TUB PLAINS OF KARAMANIA. 
 
 rh' 1 Plains of Karamania Afternoon Heat A Well Volcanic Phenomena Kara- 
 maiiia A Grand Ruined Khan Moonlight Picture A Landscape of the Plain* 
 Mirages A Short Interview The Village of Ismil Third Day on the Plains 
 Auproacn to Roma 250 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 SCENES IN K O N 1 A . 
 
 Approach to Knnla Tomb of Hazret Mevlana Lodgings in a Khan An American 
 Luxury A Night-Scene in Ramazan Prayers in the Mosque Remains of tht 
 Ancient City View from the Mosque The Interior A Leaning Minaret The 
 Diverting History of the Muleteers 256 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 TUB HEART OP ASIA MINOR. 
 
 Venery of the Hills Ladik, the Ancient Laodicea The Plague of Gad-Files- Camp at 
 Ilg-in A Natural Warm Bath The Gad-Flies Again A Summer Landscape Ak 
 Shelter The Base of Sultan Dagh The Fountain of Midas A Drowsy Journey 
 The Towm of Bolawadnn 265 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THK FORESTS OK PHRTOIA. 
 
 n FronHer of Phrytfa Ancient Quarries and Tombs We Enter the Pine froret t 
 Guard-House Encampments of the Turcomans Pastoral Scenery A bummer VB
 
 Xll CONTEXTS 
 
 lage The Valley of the Tombs Rock Sepulchres of the Phrygian Kings The Titan'* 
 Camp The Valley of Kumbeh A Land of Flowers Turcoman Uosj itality Th 
 Exiled Effendis The Old Turcoman A Glimpse of Aicadia A Landscape Inter- 
 ested Friendship The Valley of the Pursek Arrival at Kiutahym . . .274 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 KI0TAHYA, AND THE RUINS Of (E Z A N I . 
 
 K.itrance into Kiutahya -The New Khan An Unpleasant Discovery Kiutahya The 
 Citadel Panorama from the Walls The Gorge of the Mountains Camp In a 
 Meadow The Valley af the Rhyndacus Chavdflr The Ruins of CEiani The Acro- 
 polis and Temple The Theatre and Stadium Ride down the Valley Camp at Daghj- 
 Kui 290 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 THE HTSIAN OLYMPUS. 
 
 tourney Down the Valley The Plague of Grasshoppers A Deflle The Town of Tau 
 hanln The Camp of Famine We leave the Rhyndacus The Base of Olympus- 
 Primeval Forests The Guard-House Scenery of the Summit Forests of Beech 
 Saw-Mills Descent of the Mountain The View of Olympus Morning The Land of 
 Harvest Aineghiol A Showery Ride The Plain of Brousa The Structure of Olym- 
 pus We reach Brousa The Tent is Furled 300 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 BROUSA AND THE SEA OP MARMORA. 
 
 ?be City or Brousa Re-torn to Civilisation Storm The Kalputcha Hamraam A Hoi 
 Bath A Foretaste of Paradise The Streets ami Bazaars of Brousa The Mosque 
 The Tombs of the Ottoman Sultans Disappearance of the Katurgees We start foi 
 Moudania The Sea of Marmora Moudania Passport Difficulties A Greek Caique 
 Breakfast with the Fishermen A Torrid Voyage The Princes' Islands Prinkipo 
 Distant View of Constantinople We enter the Golden Horn . . . .312 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 
 
 THE NIGHT OF PR E I> E 9 T I N A TI N . 
 
 QoMteoUuo|>le in Ramasan The Origin of the Fast Nightly Illuminations The Right 
 Of Prtdestlnation The Golden Horn %t Night Illumination of the Shore* Th<
 
 CONTENTS. Xiii 
 
 Cannon of Constantinople A Fiery Panorama The- Sultan's Oilqne Cloe of th 
 Celebration A Turkish Mob The Dancing Dervishes . . . . 324 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 THE SOLEMNITIES OF BAIKAM. 
 
 the Apyearaa:* of the New Moon The Festival of Balram The Interior of tt 
 Seraglio The Pomp of the Sultan's Court Reschid Pasha The Sultan's Dwarf- 
 Arabian Stallions The Imperial Guard Appearance of the Sultan The Inner Courl 
 Return of the Procession The Sultan on his Throne The Homage of the Pashai 
 -An Oriental Picture Kissing the Scarf The Shekh el-Islam The Descendant of 
 the Caliphi Balram Commences . 332 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 THE MOSQUES OP CONSTANTINOPLE. 
 
 Sojourn at Constantinople Semi-European Character of the City The Mosque Pro- 
 curing a Firman The Seraglio The Library The Ancient Throne-Room Admit 
 lance to St. Sophia Magnificence of the Interior The Marvellous Dome Tht 
 Mosque of Saltan Achmed The Sulemanye Great Conflagrations Political Mean- 
 ing of the Fires Turkish Progress Decay of the Ottoman Power . . . 343 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 FAREWELL TO THE ORIEN T M A L T A . 
 
 Dnbarcatlon Farewell to the Orient Leaving Constantinople A Wreck The Dar- 
 danelles Homeric Scenery Smyrna Revisited The Grecian Isles Voyage to Maltc 
 -Detention La Valetta The Maltese The Climate A Boat for Sicily . . 355 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 THE FESTIVAL OF ST. AGATHA. 
 
 Departure from Malta The Speronara Our Fellow-Passengers The First Night on 
 Board Sicily Scarcity of Provisions Beating in the Calabrian Channel The 
 Fourth Morning The Gulf of Catania A Sicilian Landscape The Anchorage Tin 
 Suspected List The Streets of Catania Biography of St. Agatha The Illumination* 
 The Procession of the Veil The Biscari Palace The Antiquities of OaUnis- The 
 Convent of St. Nicola ... 3 6 3
 
 Xv CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 THE ERUPTION OP MOUNT ETNA. 
 
 The Mountain Threatens The Signs Increase We Leave Catania Garden* Among 
 the Lava Etna Labon Acl Reale The Groans of Etna The Eruption Gigantic 
 Tree of Smoke Formation of the New Crater We LOM Sight of the Mountain Arrival 
 at Messina- -Etna is Obscured Departure 375 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 GIBRALTAR. 
 
 Unwritten Links of Travel Departure from Southampton The Bay of Biscay Cintrs 
 Trafalgar Gibraltar at Midnight Landing Search for a Palm-Tree A Brilliant 
 Morning The Convexity of the Earth Sun- Worship The Rock . . 383 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 CADIZ AND SEVILLE. 
 
 Voyag; to Cadis Landing The City Its Street* The Women of Oadli Embark* 
 tiou for Seville Scenery of the Guadalquivir Custom House Examination Tin 
 Guide The Streets of Seville The Giralda The Cathedral of Seville The Alcazar- 
 Moorish Architecture Pilate's House Morning View from the Giralda Old Wine- 
 Murillos My Last Evening in Seville ... 391 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 JOCENET IN A SPANISH DILIGENCE. 
 
 Danish Diligence Lines Leaving Seville An Unlucky Start Alcali of the Bakers- 
 Dinner at Carmona A Dehesa The Mayoral and his Team Ecija Night Journej 
 Cordova The Cathedral-Mosque Moorish Architecture The Sierra Morena-A 
 Rainy Journey A Chapter of Accident* Baylen The Fascination of Spain Jier 
 -The Vega of Granada ... .... 403 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 GRANADA AND T It K ALHAMBEA. 
 
 Mateo Ximenem, the Younger The Cathedral of Granada A Monkish Mlrade Oatholk 
 Shrines Mili tasy Chernha The R\ .: ri,.,t>.-l The Tombs of Ferdinand and Is*
 
 CONTEXT? XV 
 
 belia Chapel of San Juan de Dios The Albaycin View ot the Vega The Generalife 
 The Alhambra Torra de la Vela The Walls uud Towers A Visit to Old Matco- 
 Tbe Court of the Fish-pond The Halls of the Alhambra Character of the Archittc 
 lure Hall cf the Abencerrages Hall of the Two Sisters The Moorish Dynasty is 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 . THK BRIDLE-ROADS OP ANDALUSIA. 
 
 3ha:igt' of Weather Napoleon and hit Horses Departure from Granada My Guid-. 
 Jos6 Gari'iiv His Domestic Troubles The Tragedy of the Umbrella The Vow against 
 Aguardiente Crossing the Vega The Sierra Nevada The Baths of Alhama " Wot 
 '.s Me, Alhama !" The Valley of the River Veles Velez Malaga The Coast Road 
 Tlje Fisherman and his Donkey Malaga Summer Scenery The Story of Don Pedro, 
 without Fear and without Care The Field of Monda A Lonely Vent* . .427 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 THK MOUNTAINS OP FONDA. 
 
 Vuni?e Valleys Climbing the Mountains Jos6's Hospitality El Burgo The Gate of 
 Jie Wind The Cliff and Cascades of Ronda Th>: Mountain Region Traces of th 
 Moors Haunts of Robbers A Stormy Ride The Inn at Gaucin Bud Nwa -A 
 Boyish Auxiliary Descent from the Mountains The Frrd of the Ouarl!aro--0ut 
 5Vur Relieved The Cork Woodt Hide from ten Hooue to Gibraltar Partlr.p witi 
 Jose Travelling In Spain Qoncltuioo ........ 439
 
 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEJN 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 LIFK IN A SYRIAN QUARANTINE. 
 
 Voyage from Alexandria to Beyrout Landing at Quarantine The Guardiano Otu 
 Quarters Our Companions Famine and Feasting The Morning The Holy Man of 
 Timbuctoo Sunday in Quarantine Islamism We are Registered Love through I 
 Grating-"Trumpeta The Mystery Explained Delights of Quarantine Oriental W. 
 American Exaggeration A Discussion of Politics Our Release Beyrout Prepara- 
 tion* for the Pilgrimage. 
 
 " The mountains look on Quarantine, 
 And Quarantine looks on the sea." 
 
 QUARAKTIS* MS. 
 
 I* QUARANTIRB, BgTBOUT, 
 
 Saturday, April IT, 1S58. i 
 
 1 
 
 EVERYBODY has heard of Quarantine, but in our favored coun 
 try there are many untravelled persons who do not precise!) 
 know what it is, and who no doubt wonder why it should be 
 such a bugbear to travellers in the Orient. I confess I am 
 still somewhat in the same predicament myself, although 
 I have already been twenty-four hours in Quarantine. 
 But, as a peculiarity of the place is, that one can do nothing, 
 however good a will he has, I propose to set down my expe- 
 riences each day, hoping that I and my readers may obtain
 
 18 THl LAMM 07 THE SARACEN. 
 
 some insight into the nature of Quarantine, before the term of 
 my probation is over. 
 
 I left Alexandria on the afternoon of the 14th inst., in com 
 pany with Mr. Carter Harrison, a fellow-countryman, who had 
 joined me in Cairo, for the tour through Palestine. We had a 
 head wind and rongh sea, ;iLd I remained in a torpid 
 state during most of the voyage. There was rain the second 
 night ; but, when the clouds cleared away yesterday morning 
 we were gladdened by the sight of Lebanon, whose summits 
 glittered with streaks of snow. The lower slopes of the moun- 
 tains were green with fields and forests, and Beyrout, when 
 we ran up to it, seemed buried almost ont of sight, in the foil 
 age of its mulberry groves. The town is built along tha 
 northern side of a peninsula, which projects about two miles 
 from the main line of the coa.st, forming a road for vessels. In 
 half an hour after our arrival, several large boats came along- 
 side, and we were told to get our baggage in order and 
 embark for Quarantine. The time necessary to purify a tra- 
 veller arriving from Egypt from suspicion of the plague, is five 
 days, but the days of arrival and departure are counted, so 
 that the durance amounts to but three full days. The captain 
 of the Osiris mustered the passengers together, and informed 
 them that each one would be obliged to pay six piastres for 
 the transportation of himself and his baggage Two heavy 
 lighters are now drawn up to the foot of the gangway, but aa 
 soon as the first box tumbles into them, the men tumble out. 
 Tney attach the craft by cables to two smaller boats, hi 
 ^hich they sit, to tow the infected loads. We are all sent 
 down together, Jews, Turks, and Christians a confused pile 
 of men, women, children, and goods. A little boat frooa
 
 LANDING AT QTJARANTINK. 18 
 
 the city, in which there are representatives *ron the twc 
 hotels, hovers around us, and cards are thrown to us. The 
 zealous agents wish to supply us immediately with tables, 
 beds, and all other household appliances; but we decline their 
 help until we arrive at the mysterious spot. At last we float 
 off two lighters full of infected, though respectable, material, 
 towed by oarsmen of most scurvy appearance, but free from 
 svery suspicion of taint. 
 
 The sea is still rough, the sun is hot, and a fat Jewess 
 becomes sea-sick. An Italian Jew rails at the boatmen ahead, 
 in the Neapolitan patois, for the distance is long, the Quaran- 
 tine being on the land- side of Beyrout. We see the rows of 
 little yellow houses on the cliff, and with great apparent risk 
 of being swept upon the breakers, are tugged into a small cove, 
 where there is a landing-place. Nobody is there to receive us; 
 the boatmen jump into the water and push the 1 ghters against 
 the stone stairs, while we unload our own baggage. A tin 
 cup filled with sea-water is placed before us, and we each drop 
 six piastres into it for money, strange as it may seem, is infec- 
 tious. By this time, the guardianos have had notice of our 
 arrival, and we go up with them to choose our habitations 
 There are several rows of one-story houses overlooking the sea, 
 each containing two empty rooms, to be had for a hundred 
 piastres; but a square two-story dwelling stands apart from 
 them, and the whole of it may be had for thrice that sura 
 There are seven Frank prisoners, and we take it for ourselves 
 But the rooms are bare, the kitchen empty, and we learc Un- 
 important fact, that Quarantine is durance vile, without even 
 the bread and water. The guardiano says the agents 01 the 
 hotel are at the gate, and we can order from them whateve
 
 SO THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 *e want. Certainly; but at their own price, for we are wholly 
 at their mercy. However, we go down stairs, and the chief 
 officer, who accompanies us, gets into a corner as we pass, a.id 
 holds a stick before him to keep us off. He is now clean, but 
 if his garments brush against ours, he is lost. The people we 
 meet in the grounds step aside with great respect to let us pass, 
 but if we offer them our hands, no one would dare to touch a 
 finger's tip. 
 
 Here is the gate : a double screen of wire, with an interval 
 between, so that contact is impossible. There is a crowd of 
 individuals outside, all anxious to execute commissions. Among 
 them is the agent of the hotel, who proposes to fill our bare 
 rooms with furniture, send us a servant and cook, and charge 
 us the same as if we lodged with him. The bargain is closed 
 at once, and he hurries off to make the arrangements. It is 
 now four o'clock, and the bracing air of the headland gives a 
 terrible appetite to those of us who, like me, have been sea- 
 sick and fasting for forty-eight hours. But there is no food 
 within the Quarantine except a patch of green wheat, and a 
 well in the limestone rock. We two Americans join company 
 with our room-mate, an Alexandrian of Italian parentage, who 
 has come to Beyrout to be married, and make the tour of oui 
 territory. There is a path along the cliffs overhanging the sea, 
 with glorious views of Lebanon, up to his snowy top, the pine- 
 forests at his base, and the long cape whereon the city lies at 
 full length, reposing beside the waves. The Mahommedans 
 and Jews, in companies of ten v 'to save expense), are lodged 
 in the smaller dwellings, where they have already aroused mil 
 lions of fleas from their state of torpid expectancy. We 
 -tnrn, and take a survey of our companions in the pavilion : a
 
 FAMINE AND FEASTING. 21 
 
 French woman, with two ugly and peevish children (one at the 
 breast), in the next room, and three French gentlemen in the 
 other a merchant, a young man with hair of extraordinary 
 length, and a Jilateur, or silk-manufacturer, middle-aged and 
 cynical. The first is a gentleman in every sense of the word, 
 the latter endurable, but the young Absalom is my aversion 
 I am subject to involuntary likings and dislikings, for which J 
 can give no reason, and though the man may be in every way 
 amiable, Ms presence is very distasteful to me. 
 
 We take a pipe of consolation, but it only whets our appe- 
 tites. We give up our promenade, for exercise is still worse ; 
 and at last the sun goes down, and yet no sign of dinner. Our 
 pavilion becomes a Tower of Famine, and the Italian recites 
 Dante. Finally a strange face appears at the door. By Api- 
 cius I it is a servant from the hotel, with iron bedsteads, camp- 
 tables, and some large chests, which breathe an odor of the 
 Commissary Department. We go stealthily dowu to the 
 kitchen, and watch the unpacking. Our dinner is there, sure 
 enough, but alas 1 it is not yet cooked. Patience is no more 
 my companion manages to filch a raw onion and a crust ol 
 bread, which we share, and roll under our tongues as a sweet 
 morsel, and it gives us strength for another hour. The Greek 
 dragoman and cook, who are sent into Quarantine for our sakes, 
 take compassion on us ; the fires are kindled in the cold 
 furnaces ; savory steams creep up the stairs ; the preparations 
 Increase, and finally climax in the rapturous announcement : 
 '* Messieurs, dinner is ready." The soup is liquified bliss ; the 
 vteltttes cFagneau are eotdettts de bonheur ; and as for that broad 
 dish of Syrian larks Heaven forgive is the regret that more 
 Bonga had not been silenced for oir sake 1 The meal is al 1
 
 ram LANDS OF THE BABACIK. 
 
 nectar and ambrosia, and now, filled and contented, we subside 
 intc sleep on comfortable couches. So closes the first day of 
 our incarceration. 
 
 This morning dawned clear and beautiful. Lebanon, except 
 his snowy crest, was wrapped in the early shadows, but the 
 Mediterranean gleamed like a shield of sapphire, and Beyrout, 
 sculptured against the background of its mulberry groves, was 
 glorified beyond all other cities. The turf around our pavilion 
 fairly blazed with the splendor of the yellow daisies and crim- 
 son poppies that stud it. I was satisfied with what I saw, and 
 felt no wish to leave Quarantine to-day. Our Italian friend, 
 however, is more impatient. His betrothed came early to set 
 him, and we were edified by the great alacrity with which he 
 hastened to the grate, to renew his vows at two yards' distance 
 from her. In the meantime, I went down to the Turkish 
 houses, to cultivate the acquaintance of a singular character I 
 met on board the steamer. He is a negro of six feet four, 
 dressed in a long scarlet robe. His name is Mahommed 
 Senoosee, and he is a fakeer, or holy man, from Timbuctoo 
 He has been two years absent from home, on a pilgrimage to 
 Mecca and Medina, and is now on his way to Jerusalem and 
 Damascus. He has travelled extensively in all parts of Cen- 
 tral Africa, from Dar-Fur to Ashantee, and professes to be on 
 good terms with the Sultans of Houssa and Bornou. He has 
 even been in the great kingdom of Waday, which has never 
 been explored by Europeans, and as far south as lola, the capi- 
 tal of Adamowa. Of the correctness of his narrations I have 
 not the least doubt, as they correspond geographically with all 
 that we know of the interior of Africa. In answer to my 
 question whether a European might safely make the same tour,
 
 SUNDAY IN QUARANTINE. 88 
 
 he replied that there would be no difficulty, provided ne waa 
 accompanied by a native, and be offered to take me even to 
 Pimbuctoo, if I would return with him. He was very curioua 
 to obtain information about America, and made notes of all 
 that I told him, in the quaint character used by the Mughreb 
 bins, or Arabs of the West, which has considerable resem- 
 blance to the ancient Cufic. He wishes to join company with 
 me for the journey to Jerusalem, and perhaps I shall accept 
 him. 
 
 Sunday, April 18. 
 
 As Quarantine is a sort of limbo, without the pale of civi- 
 lized society, we have no church service to-day. We have 
 done the best we could, however, in sending one of the outside 
 dragomen to purchase a Bible, in which we succeeded. He 
 brought us a very handsome copy, printed by the American 
 Bible Society in New York. I tried vainly in Cairo aud Alex- 
 andria to find a missionary who would supply my heathenish 
 destitution of the Sacred Writings; for I had reached the East 
 through Austria, where they are prohibited, and to travel 
 through Palestine without them, would be like sailing without 
 pilot or compass. It gives a most impressive reality to Solo- 
 mon's " house of the forest of Lebanon," when you can look up 
 from the page to those very forests and those grand mountains, 
 " excellent with the cedars." Seeing the holy man of Timbuc- 
 too praying with his face towards Mecca, I went down to him, 
 auri we conversed for a long time on religious matters. He is 
 tolerably well informed, having read the Books of Moses and 
 thc> Psalms of David, but, like ull Mahommedans, his ideas of 
 religion consist mainly of forms, and its reward is a sensual 
 paradise. The more intelligent of the Moslems give a spiritual
 
 24 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 interpretation to the nature of the Heaven promised by thi 
 Prophet, and I have heard several openly confess their disbe- 
 lief in the seventy houries and the palaces of pearl and emerald 
 Shekh Mahommed Senoosee scarcely ever utters a sentence in 
 which is not the word "Allah," and "La illah il' Allah" is 
 repeated at least every five miuutes. Those of his class consi- 
 der that there is a peculiar merit in the repetition of the names 
 and attributes of God. They utterly reject the doctrine of th 
 Trinity, which they believe implies a sort of partnership, or 
 God-firm (to use their own words), and declare that all who 
 accept it are hopelessly damned. To deny Mahomet's prophet- 
 ihiD would excile a violent antagonism, and I content myself 
 with making them acknowledge tnat God is greater than al: 
 Prophets or Apostles, and that there is but one God for all tin 
 human race. I have never yet encountered that bitter spirt 
 of bigotry which is so frequently ascribed to them; but on the 
 contrary, fully as great a tolerance as they would find exhibited 
 towards them by most of the Christian sects. 
 
 
 
 This morning a paper was sent to us, on which we were 
 requested to write our names, ages, professions, and places of 
 nativity. We conjectured that we were subjected to the sus- 
 picion of political as well as physical taint, but happily this was 
 not the case. I registered myself as a i-oyagenr, the French as 
 ncgocians, and when it came to the woman's turn, Absalom, 
 vho is a partisan of female progress, wished to give her the 
 same profession as her husband a machinist. But she 
 declared that her only profession was that of a " married 
 woman," and she was so inscribed. Her peevish boy rejoiced 
 in the title of " pleurickeur" or " weeper," and the infant as 
 ' titeuse." or " surker." While this was going on, the guardi
 
 TRUMPETS. 2fi 
 
 ano of our room caine in very mysteriously, and beckoned to mj 
 companion, saying that " Mademoiselle was at the gate." But 
 it was the Italian who was wanted, and again, from the little 
 window of our pavilion, we watched his hurried progress over 
 the lawn. No sooner had she departed, than he took his pocket 
 telescope, slowly sweeping the circuit of the bay as she drew 
 nearer and nearer Beyrout. He has succeeded in distinguish- 
 ing, among the mass of buildings, the top of the house in which 
 she lives, but alas! it is one story too low, and his patient 
 espial has only been rewarded by the sight of some cats 
 promenading on the roof. 
 
 I have succeeded in obtaining some further particulars in 
 relation to Quarantine. On the night of our arrival, as we 
 were about getting into our beds, a sudden and horrible gusii 
 of brimstone vapor came up stairs, and we all fell to coughing 
 like patients in a pulmonary hospital. The odor increased till 
 we were obliged to open the windows and sit beside them in 
 order to breathe comfortably. This was the preparatory fumi- 
 gation, in order to remove the ranker seeds of plague, after 
 which the milder symptoms will of themselves vanish in the 
 pure air of the place. Several times a day we are stunned 
 and overwhelmed with the cracked brays of three discordant 
 trumpets, as grating and doleful as the last gasps of a dying 
 donkey. At first I supposed the object of this was to give a 
 greater agitation to the air, and separate and shake down the 
 noxious exhalations we emit ; but since I was informed that the 
 soldiers outside would shoot us in case we attempted to escape, 
 I have concluded that the sound is meant to alarm us, and pre- 
 rent our approaching too near the walls. On inquiring of our 
 guardiano whether the wheat growing within the grounds wai
 
 26 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 subject to Quarantine, he informed me that it did not ccovej 
 infection, and that three old geese, who walked out past the 
 guard with impunity, were free to go and come, as they had 
 never been known to have the plague. Yesterday evening the 
 medical attendant, a Polish physician, came in to inspect us, 
 but he made a very hasty review, looking down on us from the 
 top of a high horse. 
 
 Monday, ApHt 19. 
 
 Eureka I the whole thing is explained. Talking to day with 
 the guardiano, he happened to mention that he had been three 
 years in Quarantine, keeping watch over infected travellers. 
 " What 1" said I, " you have been sick three years." " Oh 
 no," he replied ; " I have never been sick at all." " But are 
 not people sick in Quarantine ?" " Stafftrittah /" he exclaimed ; 
 ' they are always in better health than the people outside." 
 " What is Quarantine for, then ?" I persisted. " What is it for ?" 
 he repeated, with a pause of blank amazement at my ignorance, 
 " why, to get money from the travellers !" Indiscreet guar- 
 diano ! It were better to suppose ourselves under suspicion of 
 the plague, than to have such an explanation of the mystery. 
 Yet, in spite of the unpalatable knowledge, I almost regret 
 that this is our last day in the establishment. The air is so 
 pure and bracing, the views from our windows so magniGcent, 
 the colonized branch of the Beyrout Hotel so comfortable, 
 that I am content to enjoy this pleasant idleness the more 
 pleasant since, being involuntary, it is no weight on the con- 
 science. I look up to the Maronite villages, perched on the 
 slopes of Lebanon, with scarce a wish to climb to them. Of 
 taming to the sparkling Mediterranean, view
 
 ORIENTAL EXAGGERATION. SI 
 
 "The speronaia's sail of snowy hue 
 Whitening and brightening on that field of bine," 
 
 and have none of that unrest which the sight of a vessel in 
 motion suggests. 
 
 To-day my friend from Timbuctoo came up to have another 
 talk. He was curious to know the object of my travels, and 
 as he would not have comprehended the exact truth, I was 
 obliged to convey it to him through the medium of fiction. I 
 informed him that I had been dispatched by the Sultan of my 
 country to obtain information of the countries of Africa; that 
 I wrote in a book accounts of everything I saw, and on my 
 return, would present this book to the Sultan, who would re- 
 ward me with a high rank perhaps even that of Grand Vizier. 
 The Orientals deal largely in hyperbole, and scatter numbers 
 and values with the most reckless profusion. The Arabic, like 
 the Hebrew, its sister tongue, and other old original tongues 
 of Man, is a language of roots, and abounds with the boldest 
 metaphors. Now, exaggeration is but the imperfect form of 
 metaphor. The expression is always a splendid amplification of 
 the simple fact. Like skilful archers, in order to hit the mark, 
 they aim above it. When you have once learned his standard 
 of truth, you can readily gauge an Arab's expressions, and 
 regulate your own accordingly. But whenever I have attempted 
 to strike the key-note myself, I generally found that it was 
 below, rather than above, the Oriental pitch. 
 
 The Shekh had already iuformed me that the King of Ashan- 
 See, whom he had visited, possessed twenty-four houses full of 
 gold, and that the Sultan of Houssa had seventy thousand 
 torses always standing saddled before his palace, in order that 
 he might take his choice, when he wished to ride oat. By this
 
 88 THE LANDS OF THE SAIUCKN. 
 
 he did not mean that the facts were precisely so, but only that 
 the King was very rich, and the Snltan had a great manj 
 horses. In order to give the Shekh an idea of the 'great wealth 
 and power of the American Nation, I was obliged to adopt the 
 same p'an. I told him, therefore, that our country was twc 
 years' journey in extent, that the Treasury consisted of foui 
 thousand houses filled to the roof with gold, and that two hun- 
 dred thousand soldiers on horseback kept continual guard 
 around Sultan Fillmore's palace. He received these tremendous 
 statements with the utmost serenity and satisfaction, carefully 
 writing them ia his book, together with the name of Sultar 
 Fillmore, whose fame has ere this reached the remote regions 
 of Timbuctoo The Shekh, moreover, had the desire of visiting 
 England, and wished me to give him a letter to the English 
 Sultan. This rather exceeded my powers, but I wrote a simple 
 certificate explaining who he was, and whence he came, which 
 I sealed with an immense display of wax, and gave him. Ii 
 return, he wrote his name in my book, in the Mughrebbin char- 
 acter, adding the sentence : " There is no God but God." 
 
 This evening the forbidden subject of politics crept into our 
 quiet community, and the result was an explosive contention 
 which drowned even the braying of the agonizing trumpets out- 
 side. The gentlemanly Frenchman is a sensible and consistent 
 republican, the old JUateur a violent monarchist, while Absa- 
 lom, as I might have foreseen, is a Red, of the schools of Proud- 
 hon and Considerant. The first predicted a Republic in 
 France, the second a Monarchy in America, and the last was 
 in favor of a general and total demolition of all existing sy 
 terns. Of course, with such elements, anything like a serious 
 discussion was impossible ; and, as in most French debates, ii
 
 DRAGOMEN 99 
 
 ended in a bewildering confusion of cries and gesticulations 
 In the midst of it, I was struck by the cordiality with whicl 
 the Monarchist and the Socialist united in their denunciation* 
 of England and the English laws. As they sat side by side 
 pouring out anathemas against " perfide Albion," I couid uol 
 help exclaiming : " Vm-ld, comme Us extremes se rencontrenl ' r 
 This turned the whole current of their wrath against me, aud 
 I was glad to make a hasty retreat. 
 
 The physician again visited us to-night, to promise a release 
 to-morrow morning. He looked us all in the faces, to be cer- 
 tain that there were no signs of pestilence, and politely regret- 
 ted that he could not offer us his hand. The husband of the 
 " married woman" also came, and relieved the other gentlemen 
 from the charge of the " weeper." He was a stout, ruddy 
 Provencal, in a white blouse, and I commiserated him sincerely 
 for having such a disagreeable wife. 
 
 To-day, being the last of our imprisonment, we have received 
 many tokens of attention from dragomen, who have sent their 
 papers through the grate to us, to be returned to-morrow after 
 our liberation. They are not very prepossessing specimens of 
 their class, with the exception of Yusef Badra, who brings a 
 recommendation from my friend, Ross Browne. Yusef is a 
 handsome, dashing fellow, with something of the dandy in his 
 dress and air, but he has a fine, clear, sparkling eye, with just 
 enough of the devil in it to make him attractive. I think, how 
 ever, that the Greek dragoman, who has been our companion 
 in Quarantine, will carry the day. He is by birth a Bo3otian, 
 but now a citizen of Athens, and calls himself Frangois Vitalis 
 He speaks French, German, and Italian, besides Arabic and 
 Turkish, and as he has been for twelve or fifteen years vibrat
 
 THE LANDS OF THE SABACKN. 
 
 ing between Europe and the East, he most by this time hart 
 amassed sufficient experience to answer the needs of rough-and- 
 tumble travellers like ourselves. He has not asked us for the 
 place, which displays so much penetration on his part, that we 
 shall end by offering it to him. Perhaps he is content to rest 
 his claims upon the memory of our first Quarantine dinner. If 
 so, the odors of the cutlets and larks even of the raw onion, 
 which we remember with tears shall not plead his cause io 
 vain. 
 
 Brraotrr (out of Quarantine), Wednesday, May SI. 
 
 The handsome Greek, Diamanti, one of the proprietors ci 
 the " Hotel de Belle Vue," was on hand bright and early yes- 
 terday morning, to welcome us out of Quarantine. The gatel 
 were thrown wide, and forth we issued between two files of 
 soldiers, rejoicing in our purification. We walked through mul- 
 berry orchards to the town, and through its steep and crooked 
 streets to the hotel, which stands beyond, near the extremity 
 of the Cape, or Ras Beyrout. The town is small, but has an 
 active population, and a larger commerce than any other port 
 in Syria. The anchorage, however, is an open road, and in 
 stormy weather it is impossible for a boat to land. There are 
 two picturesque old castles on some rocks near the shore, but 
 they were almost destroyed by the English bombardment hi 
 1841. I noticed two or three granite columns, now used as 
 the lintels of some of the arched ways in the streets, and other 
 fragments of old masonry, the only remains of the ancien 
 Berytus. 
 
 Our time, since our release, has been occupied by prepara- 
 tions for the journey to Jerusalem. We have taken Francois 
 as dragoman, and our nukkairee, or muleteers, are engaged t*
 
 fREFAKATiONS FOR DKPARTUB*. '61 
 
 be iu readiness to-morrow morning. I learn that the Druse* 
 are in revolt in Djebel Hauaranand parts of the Anti-Lebanon, 
 which will prevent my forming any settled plan for the tool 
 through Palestine and Syria. Up to this time, the country has 
 been considered quite safe, the only robbery this winter having 
 been that of the party of Mr. Degen, of Now York, which was 
 plundered near Tiberias. Dr. Robinson left h^re two weeks 
 age for Jerusalem, in company with Dr. Eh Smith, of the 
 American Mission at this place.
 
 32 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 CHAP T E II II. 
 
 THE COAST OF PALESTINE. 
 
 The Pilgrimage Commences The Muleteers The Mules The Donkey Jour- 
 ney to Sidon The Foot of Lebanon Pictures The Ruins of Tyre- -A Wild 
 Morning The Tynan Surges Climbing the Ladder of Tyre Panorama of the 
 Bay of Acre The Plain of Esdraelon Camp in a Garden Acre The Shore 
 of the Bay Haifa Mount Carmel and its Monastery A Deserted Coast The 
 Ruins of Caesarea The Scenery of Palestine We become Robbers K.I Haram 
 Wrecks The Harbor and Town of Jaffa. 
 
 " Along the line of foam, the jewelled chain, 
 The largesse of the ever-giving main." 
 
 R. H. STUDOARD. 
 
 RAMLEH, April -2.7^ 1832. 
 
 WK left Beyrout on the morning of the 22d. Our caravan 
 3onsisted of three horses, three mules, aud a donkey, in charge 
 of two men Dervish, an erect, black-bearded, and most 
 impassive Mussulman, and Mustapha, who is the very picture 
 of patience and good-nature. He was born with a smile on 
 his face, and has never been able to change the expression. 
 They are both masters of their art, and can load a mule with a 
 speed and skill which I would defy any Santa Fe trader tc 
 excel. The animals are not less interesting than their masters. 
 Our horses, to be sure, are slow, plodding beasts, with consi- 
 derable endurance, but little spirit ; but the two baggage- 
 males deserve gold medals from the Society for the Promotiou
 
 THE MULES 33 
 
 of Industry, i can overlook any amount of waywardness 
 in the creatures, in consideration of the steady, persevering 
 energy, the cheerfulness and even enthusiasm with which thej 
 perform their duties. They seem to be conscious that they art 
 doing well, uud to take a delight in the consciousness. Om 
 of them has a baud of white shells around his neck, fastened 
 with a tassel and two large blue beads; and you need but look 
 at him to see that he is aware how becoming it is. He thinks 
 it was given to him for good conduct, and is doing his best to 
 merit another. The little donkey is a still more original 
 animal. He is a practical humorist, full of perverse tricks, 
 but all intended for effect, and without a particle of malice. 
 He generally walks behind, running off to one side or the 
 other to crop a mouthful of grass, but no sooner does Dervish 
 attempt to mount him, than he sets off at full gallop, and 
 takes the lead of the caravan. After having performed one 
 of his feats, he turns around with a droll glance at us, as much 
 as to say : " Did you see that ?" If we had not been present, 
 most assuredly he would never have done it. I can imagine 
 him, after his return to Beyrout, relating his adventures to a 
 company of fellow-donkeys, who every now and then burst into 
 tremendous brays at some of his irresistible dry sayings. 
 
 I persuaded Mr. Harrison to adopt the Oriental costume, 
 which, from five months' wear in Africa, I greatly preferred to 
 the Frank. We therefore rode out of Beyrout as a paii 
 of Syrian Beys, while Francois, with his belt, sabre, and pistols 
 had mmh the aspect of a Greek brigand. The road crosses the 
 h'll behind the city, between the Forest of Pines and a long 
 tract of red sand-hills next the sea. It was a lovely morning, 
 not too bright and hot, for liirht, fleecy vapors hung along th 
 
 a*
 
 84 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEH. 
 
 sides of Lebanon. Beyond the mulberry orchards, we entered 
 on wild, half-cultivated tracts, covered with a bewildering maze 
 of blossoms. The hill-side and stony shelves of soil overhang- 
 ing the sea fairly blazed with the brilliant dots of color which 
 ware rained upon them. The pink, the broom, the poppy, the 
 speedwell, the lupin, that beautiful variety of the cyclamen, 
 called by the Syrians " deek e-djebel " (cock o' the mountain), 
 and a number of unknown plants dazzled the eye with their 
 profusion, and loaded the air with fragrance as rare as it was 
 unfailing. Here and there, clear, swift rivulets came dowL 
 from Lebanon, coursing their way between thickets of bloom- 
 ing oleanders. Just before crossing the little river Damoor, 
 Francois pointed out, on one of the distant heights, the resi- 
 dence of the late Lady Hester Stanhope. During the after- 
 noon we crossed several offshoots of the Lebanon, by paths 
 incredibly steep and stony, and towards evening reached Saida, 
 the ancient Sidon, where we obtained permission to pitch our 
 tent in a garden. The town is built on a narrow point of land, 
 jutting out from the centre of a bay, or curve in the coast, and 
 contains about five thousand inhabitants. It is a quiet, sleepy 
 sort of a place, and contains nothing of the old Sidon except a 
 few stones and the fragments of a mole, extending into the sea 
 The fortress in the water, and the Citadel, are remnants of 
 Venitian sway. The clouds gathered after nightfall, and 
 occasionally there was a dash of rain on our tent. But I heard 
 it ith the same quiet happiness, as when, in boyhood, sleep- 
 ing beneath the rafters, I have heard the rain beating all night 
 upon the roof. I breathed the sweet breath of the grasses 
 whereon my carpet was spread, and old Mother Earth, wel- 
 coming me back to her bosom, cradled me into calm and
 
 THS FOOT tr LEBANON 85 
 
 refreshing sleep. There is no rest more grateful than that 
 which we take on the turf or the sand, except the rest below 
 it. 
 
 We rose in a dark and cloudy morning, and continued oui 
 way between fields of barley, completely stained with the 
 bloody hue of the poppy, and meadows turned into golden 
 mosaic by a brilliant yellow daisy. Until noon our road was 
 over a region of alternate meadow land and gentle though stony 
 elevations, making out from Lebanon. We met continually 
 with indications of ancient power and prosperity. The ground 
 was strewn with hewn blocks, and the foundations of buildings 
 remain in many places. Broken sarcophagi lie half-buried in 
 grass, and the gray rocks of the hills are pierced with tombs. 
 The soil, though stony, appeared to be naturally fertile, and 
 the crops of wheat, barley, and lentils were vet/ flourishing. 
 After rounding the promontory which forms the southern boun- 
 dary of the Gulf of Sidou, we rode for an hour or two over a 
 plain near the sea, and then came down to a valley which ran 
 up among the hills, terminating in a natural amphitheatre. An 
 ancient barrow, or tumulus, nobody knows of whom, stands 
 near the sea. During the day I noticed two charming little 
 pictures. One, a fountain gushing into a broad square basin 
 of masonry, shaded by three branching cypresses. Two Turks 
 sat on its edge, eating their bread and curdled milk, while 
 their horses drank out of the stone trough below. The other, 
 an old Mahommedan, with a green turban and white robe, 
 seated at the foot of a majestic sycamore, over the high bank 
 if a stream that tumbled down its bed of white marble rock to 
 the sea. 
 
 The plain back of the narrow, sandy promontory on which
 
 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEH. 
 
 the modern Soor is built, is a rich black loam, which a little 
 proper culture would turn into a very garden. It helped me 
 to account for the wealth of ancient Tyre. The approach tc 
 the town, along a beach on which the surf broke with a ccn 
 tinuous roar, with the wreck of a Greek vessel in the fore- 
 ground, and a stormy sky behind, was very striking. It wa 
 a wild, bleak picture, the white minarets of the town standing 
 out spectrally against the clouds. We rode up the sand-hills, 
 back of the town, and selected a good camping-place among 
 the ruins of Tyre. Near us there was an ancient square build- 
 ing, now used as a cistern, and filled with excellent fresh water 
 The surf roared tremendously on the rocks, on either hand, 
 and the boom of the more distant breakers came to my eaj 
 like the wind in a pine forest. The remains of the ancient sea- 
 wall are still to be traced for the entire circuit of the city, and 
 the heavy surf breaks upon piles of shattered granite columns 
 Along a sort of mole, protecting an inner harbor on the north 
 side, are great numbers of these columns. I counted fifteen 
 in one group, some of them fine red granite, and some of the 
 marble of Lebanon. The remains of the pharos and the for- 
 tresses strengthening the sea-wall, were pointed out by the 
 Syrian who accompanied us as a guide, but his faith was a 
 little stronger than mine. He even showed us the ruins of the 
 jetty built by Alexander, by means of which the ancient city, 
 then insulated by the sea, was taken. The remains of the cause- 
 way gradually formed the promontory by which the place is 
 now connected with the main land. These are the principal 
 indications of Tyre above ground, but the guide informed us 
 that the Arabs, in digging among the sand-hills for the stones 
 of the old buildings, which they quarry out and ship to Bey
 
 THE TYRIAN SURGES. 37 
 
 rout, come upon chambers, pillars, arches, and other object*. 
 The Tyrian purple if still furnished by a muscle found upon th( 
 coast, but Tyre is now only noted for its tobacco ana mill 
 stones. I saw many of the latter lying in the streets cf tbt 
 town, and an Arab was selling a quantity at auction in the 
 square, as we passed. They are cut out from a species of dark 
 volcanic rock, by the Bedouins of the mountains. There were 
 naif a dozen small coasting vessels lying in the road, but the 
 old harbors are entirely destroyed. Isaiah's prophecy is liter 
 ally fulfilled : " Howl, ye ships of Tarshish ; for it is laid waste, 
 so that there is no house, uo entering in." 
 
 On returning from our ramble we passed the house of the 
 Governor, Daood Agha, who was dispensing justice in regard 
 to a lawsuit then before him. He asked us to stop and take 
 coffee, and received us with much grace and dignity. As we 
 rose to leave, a slave brought me a large bunch of choice flowera 
 from his garden. 
 
 We set out from Tyre at an early hour, and rode along tht 
 beach around the head of the bay to the Ras-el-Abiad, the 
 ancient Promontorium Album. The morning was wild and 
 cloudy, with gleams of sunshine that flashed out over the dark 
 violet gloom of the sea. The surf was magnificent, rolling up 
 in grand billows, which broke and formed again, till the last 
 of the long, falling fringes of snow slid seething up the sand 
 Something of ancient power was in their shock and roar, aiid 
 every great wave that plunged and drew back again, called in 
 its solemn bass: "Where are the ships of Tyre? where are 
 the ships of Tyre ?" I looked back on the city, which stood 
 advanced far into the sea, her feet bathed in thunderous spray. 
 By and by the clov.ds cleared away, the son came out bold and
 
 88 THE LANDS OF THE SARACBN. 
 
 bright, and our road left the beach for a meadowy plain, 
 crossed by fresh streams, and sown with an inexhaustible wealth 
 of flowers. Through thickets of myrtle and mastic, around 
 which the rue and lavender grew in dense clusters, we reached 
 tbe foot of the mountain, and began ascending the celebrated 
 Ladder of Tyre. The road is so steep as to resemble a stair- 
 case, and climbs along the side of the promontory, hanging 
 over precipices of naked white rock, in some places three hun- 
 dred feet in height. The mountain is a mass of maguesian 
 limestone, with occasional beds of marble. The surf has worn 
 its foot into hollow caverns, into which the sea rushes with a 
 doll, heavy boom, like distant thunder. The sides are covered 
 with thickets of broom, myrtle, arbutus, ilex, mastic and laurel, 
 overgrown with woodbine, and interspersed with patches of 
 sage, lavender, hyssop, wild thyme, and rue. The whole moun- 
 tain is a heap of balm ; a bundle of sweet spices. 
 
 Our horses' hoofs clattered up and down the rounds of the 
 ladder, and we looked our last on Tyre, fading away behind 
 the white hem of the breakers, as we turned the point of the 
 promontory. Another cove of the mountain-coast followed, 
 terminated by the Cape of Xakhura, the northern point of the 
 Bay of Acre. We rode along a stony way between fields of 
 jrheat and barley, blotted almost out of sight by showers of 
 scarlet poppies and yellow chrysanthemums. There were fre- 
 quent ruins : fragments of sarcophagi, foundations of houses, 
 and about half way between the two capes, the mounds of 
 Alexandro-Schoenae. We stopped at a khan, and breakfasted 
 nader a magnificent olive tree, while two boys tended oui 
 torses to see that they ate only the edges of the wheat field 
 Below the boose were t vc large cypresses, and on a little
 
 PANORAMA OF THE BAY OF ACBR. Sfl 
 
 iongoe of land the ruins of one of those square towers of the 
 iorsairs, which line all this coast. The intense blue of the 
 sea, seen close at hand over a broad field of goldening wheat, 
 formed a dazzling- and superb contrast of color. Early in the 
 afternoon we climbed the Ras Nakhura, not so bold and grand, 
 though quite as flowery a steep as the Promontorium Album. 
 We had been jogging half an hour over its uneven summit, 
 when the side suddenly fell away below us, and we saw the 
 whole of the great gulf and plain of Acre, backed by the long 
 ridge of Mount Carmel. Behind the sea, which makes a deep 
 indentation in the line of the coast, extended the plain 
 bounded on the east, at two leagues' distance, by a range of 
 hills covered with luxuriant olive groves, and still higher, by 
 the distant mountains of Galilee. The fortifications of Acre 
 were visible on a slight promontory near the middle of the 
 Gulf. From our feet the line of foamy surf extended for 
 miles along the red sand-beach, till it finally became like a 
 chalk-mark on the edge of the field of blue. 
 
 We rode down the mountain and continued our journey over 
 the plain of Esdraelon a picture of summer luxuriance and 
 bloom. The waves of wheat and barley rolled away from our 
 path to the distant olive orchards ; here the water gushed 
 from a stone fountain and flowed into a turf-girdled pool, 
 around which the Syrian women were washing their garments ; 
 there, a garden of orange, lemon, fig, and pomegranate tree? 
 'n blossom, was a spring of sweet odors, which overflowed the 
 srhole land. We rode into some of these forests, for they were 
 no less, and finally pitched our tent in one of them, belonging 
 to the palace of the Conner Abdullah Pasha, within a mile of 
 A.cre. The old Saracen aqueduct, which still conveys water tp
 
 40 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 the town, overhung onr tent. For an hour before reaching oui 
 destination, we had seen it on the left, crossing the rollows oc 
 light stone arches. In one place I counted fifty-eight, and ic 
 another one hundred and three of these aiches, some of whicl 
 were fifty feet high. Our camp was a charming place : a nest 
 of deep herbage, under two enormous fig-trees, and surroundec 
 by a balmy grove of orange and citron. It was doubly bean 
 tiful when the long line of the aqueduct was lit up by the moon, 
 and the orange trees became mouuds of ambrosial darkness. 
 
 In the morning we rode to Acre, the fortifications of which 
 have been restored on the land-side. A ponderous double gate 
 way of stone admitted us into the city, through what was once, 
 apparently, the court-yard of a fortress. The streets of the 
 town are narrow, terribly rough, and very dirty, but the 
 bazaars are extensive and well stocked. The principal mosque, 
 whose heavy dome is visible at some distance from the city, is 
 surrounded with a garden, enclosed by a pillared corridor, 
 paved with marble. All the houses of the city are built in the 
 most massive style, of hard gray limestone or marble, and this 
 circumstance alone prevented their complete destruction during 
 the English bombardment in 1841. The mark: of the shells 
 are everywhere seen, and the upper parts of the lofty buildings 
 are completely riddled with cannon-balls, some of which 
 remain embedded in the stone. We made ;i mpid tour of the 
 town on horseback, followed by the curious "-lances of the 
 people, who were in donbt whether to consider us Turks* (X 
 Franks. There were a dozen vessels in the harbor, which u 
 considered the best in Syria. 
 
 The baggage-mules had gone on, so we galloped after them 
 ilong the hard beach, around the head of the bay. It was a
 
 HAlfA AND MOUNT CARMBL. 41 
 
 brilliant moruiug ; a delicious south-eastern breeze came to m 
 over the flowery plaiu of Esdraelon ; the sea on our right shone 
 blue, and purple, and violet-greeu, and black, as the shadowi 
 or sunshine crossed it, and only the long lines of roaring foani, 
 for ever changing in form, did not vary in hue A fisherman 
 stood on the beac h in a statuesque attitude, his handsome bare 
 legs bathed in the frothy swells, a bag of fish hanging from hia 
 shoulder, and the large square net, with its sinkers of lead in 
 his right hand, ready for a cast. He had good luck, for the 
 waves brought up plenty of large fish, and cast them at our 
 feet, leaving them to struggle back into the treacherous brine. 
 Between Acre and Haifa we passed six or eight wrecks, mostly 
 of small trading vessels. Some were half buried in sand, some 
 so old and mossy that they were fast rotting away, while a few 
 bad been recently hurled there. As we rounded the deep curve 
 of the bay, and approached the line of palm-trees girding the 
 foot of Mount Carrnel, Haifa, with its wall and Saracenic 
 town in ruin on the hill above, grew more clear and bright in 
 the sun, while Acre dipped into the blue of the Mediterranean. 
 The town of Haifa, the ancient Caiapha, is small, dirty, and 
 beggarly looking ; but it has some commerce, sharing the trade 
 ot Acre in the productions of Syria. It was Sunday, and all 
 the Consular flags were flying. It was an unexpected delight 
 to find the American colors in this little Syrian town, flying 
 Irom one of the tallest poles. The people stared at us as we 
 passed, and I noticed among them many bright Frankish faces, 
 with eyes too clear and gray for Syria. ye kind brothers of 
 the monastery of Carinel ! forgive me if I look to you for as 
 xplanation of this phenomenon. 
 
 We ascended to Mount Carinel. The path led through f
 
 42 THE LANDS OK THE SARACEN. 
 
 grove of carob trees, from which the beans, known in German) 
 as St. John's bread, are produced. After this we came iutc 
 an olive grove at the foot of the mountain, from wnich long 
 fields of wheat, giving forth a ripe summer smell, flowed dowr 
 to the shore of the bay. The olive trees were of immense size, 
 and I can well believe, as Fra Carlo informed us, that they 
 were probably planted by the Roman colonists, established 
 there by Titus. The gnarled, veteran boles still send forth 
 vigorous and blossoming boughs. There were all manner of 
 lovely lights and shades chequered over the turf and the wind- 
 ing path we rode. At last we reached the foot of an ascent, 
 . steeper than the Ladder of Tyre. As our horses slowly climbed 
 to the Convent of St. Elijah, whence we already saw the French 
 flag floating over the shoulder of the mountain, the view opened 
 grandly to the north and east, revealing the bay and plain of 
 Acre, and the coast as far as Ras Xakhura, from which we first 
 saw Mount Carmel the day previous. The two views are very 
 similar in character, one being the obverse of the other. We 
 reached the Convent Dayr Mar Elias, as the Arabs call it 
 at noon, just in time to partake of a bountiful dinner, to which 
 the monks had treated themselves. Fra Carlo, th^ good Fran- 
 ciscan who receives strangers, showed us the building, and the 
 Grotto of Elijah, which is under the altar of the Convent 
 Church, a small but very handsome structure of Italian marble. 
 The sanctity of the Grotto depends on tradition entirely, aa 
 there is no mention in the Bible of Elijah having resided on 
 Carmel, though it was from this mountain that he saw the 
 cloud, " like a man's hand," rising from the sea. The Convent, 
 which is quite new not yet completed, in fact la a large 
 massive building, and has the aspect of a fortress.
 
 THE RUINS OF C^SAKEA. 43 
 
 As we were to sleep at Tautura, five hours distant, wt 
 tvtre obliged to make a short visit, in spite of the invitation of 
 the hospitable Fra Carlo to spend the night there. In tht 
 afternoon we passed the ruins of Athlit, a town of the Middle 
 Ages, and the Castel Pellegrino of the Crusaders. Our road 
 now followed the beach, nearly the whole distance to Jaffa 
 and was in many places, for leagues in extent, a solid layer of 
 white, brown, purple and rosy shells, which cracked and rattled 
 under our horses' feet. Tautura is a poor Arab village, and 
 we had some difficulty in procuring provisions. The people 
 lived in small huts of mud and stones, near the sea. The place 
 had a thievish look, and we deemed it best to be careful in the 
 disposal of our baggage for the night. 
 
 In the morning we took the coast again, riding over millions 
 of shells. A line of sandy hills, covered with thickets of 
 myrtle and mastic, shut off the view of the plain and meadows 
 between the sea and the hills of Samaria. After three hours' 
 ride we saw the ruins of ancient Caesarea, near a small pro- 
 montory. The road turned away from the sea, and took the 
 wild plain behind, which is completely overgrown with camo- 
 mile, chrysanthemum and wild shrubs. The ruins of the town 
 are visible at a considerable distance along the coast. The 
 principal remains consist of a massive wall, flanked with pyra- 
 midal bastions at regular intervals, and with the traces of gate- 
 ways, draw-bridges and towers. It was formerly surrounded 
 ly a deep moat. Within this svace, which may oe a quartei 
 of a mile square, are a few fragments of buildings, and toward 
 the sea, some high arches and masses of masonry. The plain 
 around abounds with traces of houses, streets, and court-yards 
 Caesarea was one of the Roman colonies, but owed its prospfr
 
 44 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 rity principally to Herod. St Paul passed through it on hi 
 way from Macedon to Jerusalem, by the very road we were 
 travelling. 
 
 During the day the path struck inland over a vast rollmf 
 plain, covered with sage, lavender and other sweet-sinelliug 
 shrubs, and tenanted by herds of gazelles and nocks of large 
 storks. As we advanced further, the landscape became singu 
 larly beautiful. It was a broad, shallow valley, swelling away 
 towards the east into low, rolling hills, far back of which rose 
 the blue line of the mountains the hill-country of Judea. 
 The soil, where it was ploughed, was the richest vegetable loam. 
 Where it lay fallow it was entirely hidden by a bed of grass 
 and camomile. Here and there great herds of sheep and goats 
 browsed on the herbage. There was a quiet pastoral air about 
 the landscape, a soft serenity in its forms and colors, as if the 
 Hebrew patriarchs still made it their abode. The district is 
 famous for robbers, and we kept our arms in readiness, never 
 Buffering the baggage to be out of our sight. 
 
 Towards evening, as Mr. H. and myself, with Francois, 
 were riding in advance of the baggage mules, the former with 
 his gun in his hand, I with a pair of pistols thrust through the 
 folds of my shawl, and Frangois with his long Turkish sabre, 
 we came suddenly upon a lonely Englishman, whose com- 
 panions were somewhere in the rear. He appeared to be 
 struck with terror on seeing us making towards him, and, 
 turning his horse's head, made an attempt to fly. The animal, 
 aowever, was restive, and, after a few plunges, refused to 
 move. The traveller gave himself up for lost ; his arms 
 dropped by his side ; he stared wildly at us, with pale face 
 and eyes opened wide with a look of helpless fright. Restrain
 
 EL IIARAM 48 
 
 Ing with difficul'y a snout of laughter, I said to him : "Did 
 you leave Jaffa to-day ?" but so completely was his ear the 
 fool of his imagination, that he thought I was speaking 
 Arabic, and made a faint attempt to get out the only word 07 
 two of that language which he knew. I then repeated, with 
 as much distinctness as I could command : " Did you leave 
 Jaffa to-day ?" He stammered mechanically, through hi? 
 chattering teeth, " Y-y-yes !" and we immediately dashed oft 
 at a gallop through the bushes. When we last saw him he 
 *vas standing as we left him, apparently not yet recovered 
 from the shock. 
 
 At the little village of El Harara, where we spent the 
 night, I visited the tomb of Sultan Ali ebn-A leym. who is now 
 revered as a saint. It is enclosed in a mosque, crowning the 
 top of a hill. I was admitted into the court-yard without 
 hesitation, though, from the porter styling me "Effendi,"he 
 probably took me for a Turk. At the entrance to the inner 
 court, I took off my slippers and walked to the tomb of the 
 Sultan a square heap of white marble, in a small marble 
 enclosure. In one of the niches in the wall, near the tomb, 
 there is a very old iron box, with a slit in the top. The por 
 ter informed me that it contained a charm, belonging to Sul 
 tan Ali, which was of great use in producing rain in tunes of 
 drouth. 
 
 In the morning we sent our baggage by a short road across 
 the country to this place, and then rode down the beacb 
 towards Jaffa. The sun came out bright and hot as we paced 
 along the line of spray, our horses' feet sinking above the fet> 
 locks in pink and purple shells, while the droU sea-crabs scam 
 pered away from our path, and the blue gelatine us sea-nettles
 
 46 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 were tossed before us by the surge. Our view was confined tc 
 the sand-hills sometimes covered with a flood of scarlet pop 
 pies on one hand; and to the blue, surf-fringed sea ou th 
 other. The terrible coast was still lined with wrecks, and 
 just before reaching the town, we passed a vessel of some two 
 hundred tons, recently cast ashore, with her strong hull still 
 uii broken. We forded the rapid stream of El Aujeh, which 
 comes down from the Plain of Sharon, the water rising to our 
 saddles. The low promontory in front now broke into towers 
 and white domes, and great masses of heavy walls. The 
 aspect of Jaffa is exceedingly picturesque. It is built on a 
 hill, and the land for many miles around it being low and Hat, 
 its topmost houses overlook all the fields of Sharon. The old 
 harbor, protected by a reef of rocks, is on the north side of 
 the town, but is now so sanded up that large vessels cannot 
 enter. A number of small craft were lying close to the shore. 
 The port presented a different scene when the ships of Hiram, 
 King of Tyre, came in with the materials for the Temple of 
 Solomon. There is but one gate on the land side, which 
 is rather strongly fortified. Outside of this there is an open 
 space, which we i'ound filled with venders of oranges and vege- 
 tables, camel-men and the like, some vociferating in loud dis- 
 pute, some given up to silence and smoke, under the shade of 
 the sycamores. 
 
 We rode under the heavily arched and towered gateway, 
 and entered the bazaar. The street was crowded, and there 
 was such a confusion of camels, donkeys, and men, that 
 we made our way with difficulty along the only practicable 
 street in the city, to the sea-side, where Francois pointed out 
 a hole in the trail as the veritable spot where Jonah was cas'
 
 JAFFA. 47 
 
 ashore by the whale. This part of the harbor is the recep 
 tacle of all the offal of the town ; and I do not woudet 
 that the whale's stomach should Lave turned on approaching 
 it. The sea-street was filled with merchants and traders, and 
 we were obliged to pick our way between bars of iron, skins 
 of oil, heaps of oranges, and piles of building timber. At last 
 we reached the end, and, as there was no other thoroughfare, 
 returned the same way we went, passed out the gate, and took 
 the road to Ramleh and Jerusalem. 
 
 But 1 hear the voice of Francois, announcing, " Messieurs, It 
 diner est pret." We are encamped just beside the pool of 
 Ramleh, and the mongrel children of the town are making 
 a great noise in the meadow below it. Our horses are enjoy- 
 ing their barley ; and Mustapha stands at the tent-door tying 
 np his sacks. Dogs are barking and donkeys braying all 
 along the borders of the town, whose filth and dilapidation 
 are happily concealed by the fig and olive gardens which sur- 
 round it. I have not curiosity enough to visit the Greek and 
 Latin Convents embedded in its foul purlieus, but content 
 myself with gazing from my door upon the blue hills of 
 Palestine, which we must cross to-morrow, on our way tc 
 Jerusalem.
 
 48 THl LANDS OF THK SARACBW. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 FROM JAFFA TO JERUSALEM. 
 
 fhe Garden of Jaffa Breakfast at a Fountain The Plain of Sharon The Roinai 
 Mosque of Ramleh A Judean Landscape The Streets of Ramleh Am I in Pale* 
 tine f A Heavenly Morning The Land of Milk and Honey Entering the Hill- 
 Country The Pilgrim's Breakfast The Father of Lies A Church of the Crusaden 
 The Agriculture of the Hills The Valley of Elah Day-Dreams The WilderneM 
 The Approach We see the Holy City. 
 
 " Through the air sublime, 
 
 Orer the wilderness and o'er the plain ; 
 Till underneath them 'air Jerusalem, 
 The Holy Oity, lifted high her towers." 
 
 PAXADIBK RKOAWKD. 
 
 JBROSALKM, Thursday, April 29, I860. 
 
 LEAVING the gate of Jaffa, we rode eastward between delight- 
 ful gardens of fig, citron, orauge, pomegranate and palm. The 
 country for several miles around the city is a complete level- 
 part of the great plain of Sharon and the gray mass of 
 building crowning the little promontory, is the only landmark 
 seen above the green garden-land, on looking towards the sea 
 rhc road was lined with hedges of giant cactus, now in bios- 
 lorn, and shaded occasionally witli broad-armed sycamores 
 The orange trees were in bloom, and at the same time laden 
 lown with ripe fruit. The oranges of Jaffa are the finest in 
 iyria, aud great numbers of them are sent to Beyrout and
 
 THE PLAIN OF SHARON. 49 
 
 other ports further north.. The dark fcliage of the pome- 
 granate fairly blazed with its heavy scarlet blossoms, aid here 
 and there a cluster of roses made good the Scriptural renown 
 of those of Sharoa. The road was filled with people, passing 
 to and fro, and several families of Jaffa Jews were having a 
 sort of pic-nic in the choice shady spots. 
 
 Ere long we came to a fountain, at a point where two road 
 met. It was a large square structure of limestone and marble, 
 with a stone trough in front, and a delightful open chamber at 
 the side. The space in front was shaded with immense syca- 
 more trees, to which we tied our horses, and then took our seats 
 in the window above the fountain, where the Greek brought us 
 our breakfast. The water was cool and delicious, as were our 
 Jaffa oranges. It was a charming spot, i\/r as we sat we could 
 look under the boughs of the great trees, and down between 
 the gardens to Jaffa and the Mediterranean. After leaving 
 the gardens, we came upon the great plain of Sharon, on which 
 we could see the husbandmen at work far and near, ploughing 
 and sowing their grain. In some instances, the two operations 
 were made simultaneously, by having a sort of funnel attached 
 to the plough-handle, running into a tube which entered the 
 earth just behind the share. The man held the plough with 
 one hand, wh'ile with the other he dropped the requisite quan- 
 tity of seed through the tube into the furrow. The people are 
 ploughing now for their summer crops, and the wheat and Dar 
 ley which they sowed last winter are already in full head. On 
 other parts of the plain, there were large flocks of sheep and 
 goats, with their attendant shepherds. So ran the rich land- 
 scape, broken only by belts of olive trees, to the far hills of 
 Judea
 
 60 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN . 
 
 Riding on over the long, low swells, fragrant with wild 
 thyme and camomile, we saw at last the tower of Ramlet, and 
 down the valley, an hour's ride to the north-east, the minaret 
 of Lndd, the ancient Lydda. Still further, I could see the 
 houses of the village of Sharon, embowered in olives. Ramleh 
 is built along the crest and on the eastern slope of a low hill, 
 and at & distance appears like a stately place, but this impres- 
 sion is immediately dissipated on entering it. West of the 
 town is a large square tower, between eighty and ninety feet in 
 height. We rode up to it through an orchard of ancient olive 
 trees, and over a field of beans. The tower is evidently a min- 
 aret, as it is built in the purest Saracenic style, and is sur- 
 rounded by the ruins of a mosque. I have rarely seen any- 
 thing more graceful than the ornamental arches of the uppei 
 portions. Over the door is a lintel of white marble, with an 
 Arabic inscription. The mosque to which the tower is attached 
 s almost entirely destroyed, and only part of the arches of a 
 corridor around three sides of a court-yard, \v'th the fountain 
 in the centre, still remain. The subterranean cisterns, umk>r 
 the court-yard, amazed me with their extent and magnitude 
 They are no less than twenty-four feet deep, and covered by 
 twenty-four vaulted ceilings, each twelve feet square, and rest- 
 ing on massive pillars. The mosque, when entire, must have 
 been one of the finest in Syria. 
 
 We clambered over the broken stones cumbering the entrance, 
 and mounted the steps to the very summit. The view reached 
 from Jaffa and the sea to the mountains near Jerusalem, and 
 southward to the plain of Ascalon a great expanse of grain 
 and grazing laud, all blossoming as the rose, and dotted, espe- 
 cially near the mountains, with dark, luxuriant olive-groves.
 
 AM I IN PALESTINE? 51 
 
 The landscape had something of the green, pastoral beauty of 
 England, except the mountains, which were wholly of Palestine 
 The shadows of fleecy clouds, drifting slowly from east to west, 
 moved across the landscape, which became every moment softe 
 and fairer in the light of the declining sun. 
 
 I did not tarry in Ramleh. The streets are narrow, crooked, 
 and filthy as only an Oriental town can be. The houses have 
 either flat roofs or domes, out of the crevices in which springs 
 a plentiful crop of weeds. Some yellow dogs barked at us as 
 we passed, children in tattered garments stared, and old tur- 
 baned heads were raised from the pipe, to guess who the two 
 brown individuals might be, and why they were attended by 
 such a fierce cawass. Passing through the eastern gate, we 
 were gladdened by the sight of our tents, already pitched in 
 the meadow beside the cistern. Dervish had arrived an hour 
 before us, and had everything ready for the sweet lounge of an 
 hour, to which we treat ourselves after a day's ride. I watched 
 the evening fade away over the blue hills before us, and tried 
 to convince myself that I should reach Jerusalem on the mor- 
 row. Reason said : " You certainly will I" but to Faith the 
 Holy City was as far off as ever. Was it posoible that I was 
 in Judea ? Was this the Holy Land of the Crusades, the soil 
 hallowed by the feet of Christ and his Apostles ? I must 
 believe it. Yet it seemed once that if I ever trod that earth, 
 then beneath my feet, there would be thenceforth a consecra 
 tion in my Me, a holy essence, a purer inspiration on the lips, 
 a surer faith in the heart. And because I was not other that 
 I had been, I half doubted whether it was the Palestine of 
 my dreams. 
 
 A lumber of Arab cameleers, who had come with travellers
 
 52 THE; LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 across the Desert from Egypt, were encamped near us. Fran- 
 c.ois was suspicious of some of them, and therefore divided the 
 night into three watches, which were kept by himself aud OUT 
 two men. Mustapha was the last, and kept not only himself 
 but myself, wide awake by his dolorous chants of love and reli 
 gion. I fell sound asleep at dawn, but was roused before 
 sunrise by FrauQois, who wished to start betimes, on account 
 of the rugged road we had to travel. The morning was 
 mild, clear, and balmy, and we were soon packed and in 
 motion. Leaving the baggage to follow, \ve rode ahead 
 over the fertile fields. The wheat and poppies were glistening 
 with dew, birds sang among the fig-trees, a cool breeze came 
 down from the hollows of the hills, and my blood leaped 
 as nimbly and joyously as a young hart on the mountains of 
 Bether. 
 
 Between Ramleh and the hill-country, a distance of about 
 eight miles, is the rolling plain of Arimathea, and this, as well 
 as the greater part of the plain of Sharon, is one of the richest 
 districts in the world. The soil is a dark-brown loam, aud, 
 without manure, produces annually superb crops of wheat and 
 barley. We rode for miles through a sea of wheat, waving 
 far and wide over the swells of laud. The tobacco in the fields 
 about Ramleh was the most luxuriant I ever saw, and the 
 olive and fig attain a size and lusty strength wholly unknown 
 iu Italy. Judea cursed of God ! what a misconception, not 
 jnly of God's mercy aud beneficence, but of the actual fact 1 
 Give Palestine into Christian hands, and it will again flow with 
 uiilk and honey. Except some parts of Asia Minor, no por- 
 tion of the Levant is capable of yielding such a harvest of 
 ir., silk, wool, fruits, oil, and wine. The great disadvautagt
 
 ENTERING THE HILL-COUNTRY. 58 
 
 under which the country labors, is its frequent drouths, 
 bat were the soil more generally cultivated, and the old 
 orchards replanted, these would neither be so frequent nor so 
 severe. 
 
 We gradually ascended the hills, passing one or two villages, 
 imbedded in gropes of olives. In the little valleys, slanting 
 down lo the plains, the Arabs were still ploughing and sowing, 
 singing the while an old love-song, with its chorus of " ya, 
 gkazake! ya, ghazake!" (oh, gazelle 1 oh, gazelle!) The valley 
 narrowed, the lowlands behind us spread out broader, and in 
 half an hour more we were threading ^narrow pass, between 
 stony hills, overgrown with ilex, myrtle, and dwarf oak. The 
 wild purple rose of Palestine blossomed on all sides, and a fra- 
 grant white honeysuckle in some places hung from the rocks. 
 The path was terribly rough, and barely wide enough for two 
 persons on horseback to pass each other. We met a few pil- 
 grims returning from Jerusalem, and a straggling company of 
 armed Turks, who had such a piratical air, that without the 
 solemn asseveration of Frangois that the road was quite safe, 
 I should have felt uneasy about our baggage. Most of tho 
 persons we passed were Mussulmen, few of whom gave the 
 customary " Peace be with you 1" but once a Syrian Christian 
 saluted me with, "God go with you, O Pilgrim 1" For 
 two hours after entering the mountains, there was scarcely 
 .11 o c cultivation. The rock was limestone, or marble, 
 lying in horizontal strata, the broken edges of which rose like 
 terraces to the summits. These shelves were so covered with 
 wild shrubs in some places even with rows of olive trees 
 that to me they had not the least appearance of that desolu 
 tion so generally ascribed to them
 
 54 THE LANDS OF THE SARACBM. 
 
 In a little dell among the hills there is a small rniued mosque 
 or chapel (I could not decide which), shaded by a group of 
 magnificent terebinth trees. Several Arabs were resting in it* 
 shade, and we hoped to find there the water we were looking 
 for, in order to make breakfast. But it was not to be found, 
 and we climbed nearly to the summit of the first chain of hills, 
 svhere in a small olive orchard, there was a cistern, filled b} 
 the late rains. It belonged to two ragged boys, who brought 
 as an earthen vessel of the water, and then asked, " Shall we 
 bring you milk, Pilgrims !" I assented, and received a small 
 jug of thick buttermilk, not remarkably clean, but very refresh- 
 ing. My companion, who had not recovered from his horror at 
 finding that the inhabitants of Ramleh washed themselves in 
 the pool which supplied us and them, refused to touch it. We 
 made but a short rest, for it was now nearly noon, and there 
 were yet many rough miles between us and Jerusalem. We 
 arossed the first chain of mountains, rode a short distance over 
 a stony upland, and then descended into a long cultivated 
 valley, running to the eastward. At the end nearest us 
 appeared the village of Aboo '1 Ghosh (the Father of Lies) 
 which takes its name from a noted Bedouin shekh, who distin 
 guished himself a few years ago by levying contributions on 
 travellers. He obtained a large sum of money in this way, 
 but as he added murder to robbery, and fell upon lurks an- 
 well as Christians, he was finally captured, and is now expi 
 ating his offences in some mine on the coast of the Black 
 Sea. 
 
 Near the bottom of the village there is a large ruined build- 
 ing, now used as a stable ty the inhabitants. The interior w 
 divided into a nave and two sideaisles by rows of square
 
 AGRICULTURE OF THE HILLS 55 
 
 pillars, frDm which spring pointed arches. The door-way is at 
 the side, and is Gothic, with a dash of Saracenic in the orna- 
 mental mouldings above it. The large window at the extremity 
 of the nave is remarkable for having round arches, which circum- 
 stance, together with the traces of arabesque painted ornaments 
 an the columns, led me to think it might have been a mosque ; 
 hut Dr. Robinson, who is now here, considers it a Christian 
 church, of the time of the Crusaders. The village of Aboo '1 
 Ghosh is said to be the site of the birth-place of the Prophet 
 Jeremiah, and I can well imagine it to have been the case. 
 The aspect of the mountain-country to the east and north-east 
 would explain the savage dreariness of his lamentations. The 
 whole valley in which the village stands, as well as another 
 which joins it on the east, is most assiduously cultivated. The 
 tony mountain sides are wrought into terraces, where, in spite 
 of soil which resembles an American turnpike, patches of 
 wheat are growing luxuriantly, and olive trees, centuries old, 
 hold on to the rocks with a clutch as hard and bony as the 
 hand of Death. In the bed of the valley the fig tree thrives, 
 iuid sometimes the vine and fig grow together, forming tht 
 patriarchial arbor of shade familiar to us all. The shoots of 
 the tree are still young and green, but the blossoms of the 
 grape do not yet give forth their goodly savor. I did not 
 hear the voice of the turtle, but a nightingale sang in the 
 briery thickets by the brooknde, as we passed along. 
 
 Climbing out of this valley, we descended by a stony stair- 
 case, as rugged as the Ladder of Tyre, in the Wady Beit 
 Ilanineh. Here were gardens of oranges in blossom, With 
 orchards of quince and apple, overgrown with vines, and the 
 fragrant hawthorn tree, snowy with its bloom. A stone
 
 56 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 bridge, the only one on the road, crosses the dry bed of t 
 winter stream, and, looking up the glen, I saw the Arab 
 village of Kulonieh, at the entrance of the valley of Elah, 
 glorious with the memories of the shepherd-boy, David. Oui 
 road turned off to the right, and commenced ascending a long, 
 dry glen between mountains > which grew more sterile the 
 further we fent. It was nearly two hours past uoon, the sun 
 fiercely hot, and our horses were nigh jaded out with the rough 
 road and our impatient spurring. I began to fancy we could 
 see Jerusalem from the top of the pass, and tried to think of 
 the ancient days of Judea. But it was in vain. A newer 
 picture shut them out, and banished even the diviner images 
 of Our Saviour and His Disciples. Heathen that I was, 1 
 could only think of Godfrey and the Crusaders, toiling up the 
 same path, and the ringing lines of Tasso vibrated constantly 
 in my ear : 
 
 4 Ecco apparir Gierusalemm' si vede ; 
 Ecco additar Gierusalemm' si scorge ; 
 Ecco da mille voci unitamente, 
 Gierusalemme salutar ai sente !" 
 
 The Palestine of the Bible the Land of Promise to the 
 Israelites, the land of Miracle and Sacrifice to the Apostles 
 and thek 1 followers still slept in the unattainable distance, 
 under a sky of bluer and more tranquil loveliness than that to 
 whose cloudless vault I looked up. It lay as far and beautiful 
 as it once seemed to the eye of childhood, and the swords oi 
 Seraphim kept profane feet from its sacred hills. But these 
 rough rocks around me, these dry, fiery hollows, these thickets 
 of ancient oak and ilex, had heard the trumpets of the Middle
 
 THE APPROACH TO THE HOLT CIIY, 57 
 
 Ages, and the clang and clatter of European armor I could 
 feel and believe that. I entered the ranks ; I followed the 
 trumpets and the holy hymns, and waited breathlessly for the 
 mcment when every mailed knee should drop in the dust, and 
 every bearded and sunburned cheek be wet with devotional 
 tears. 
 
 But when I climbed the last ridge, and looked ahead with 
 a sort of painful suspense, Jerusalem did not appear. We 
 were two thousand feet above the Mediterranean, whose blue 
 we could dimly see far to the west, through notches in the 
 chain of hills. To the north, the mountains were gray, 
 desolate, and awful. Not a shrub or a tree relieved their 
 frightful barrenness. An upland tract, covered with white 
 volcanic rock, lay before us. We met peasants with asses, who 
 looked (to my eyes) as if they had just left Jerusalem. Still 
 forward we urged our horses, and reacned a ruined garden, 
 surrounded with hedges of cactus, over which I saw domes 
 and walls in the distance. I drew a long breath and looked at 
 Francois. He was jogging along without turning his head ; 
 he could not have been so indifferent if that was really the 
 city. Presently, we reached another slight rise in the rocky 
 plain. He began to urge his panting horse, and at the same 
 instant we both lashed the spirit into ours, dashed on at a 
 break-neck gallop, round the corner of an old wall on the top 
 of the hill, and lo ! the Holy City 1 Our Greek jerked both 
 pistols from his holsters, and fired them into the air, as we 
 reined up on the steep 
 
 From the descriptions of travellers, I had expected to see in 
 Jerusalem an ordinary modern Turkish town ; but that before 
 
 uie, with its w ills, fortresses, and domes, was it not still the 
 
 *
 
 58 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 City of David ? 1 saw the Jerusalem of the New Testament 
 as I had imagined it. Long lines of walls crowned with a 
 notched parapet and strengthened by towers; a few domes and 
 spires above them; clusters of cypress here and there; this 
 was all that was visible of the city. On either side the hiL 
 sloped down to the two deep valleys over which it hangs. Oil 
 the east, the Mount of Olives, crowned with a chapel and 
 mosque, rose high and steep, but in front, the eye passed 
 directly over the city, to rest far away upon the lofty moun- 
 tains of Moab, beyond the Dead Sea. The scene was grand in 
 its simplicity. The prominent colors were the purple of those 
 distant mountains, and the hoary gray of the nearer hills. T> je 
 walls were of the dull yellow of weather-stained marble, and 
 the only trees, the dark cypress and moonlit olive. Now, 
 indeed, for one brief moment, I knew that I was in Palestine : 
 that I saw Mount Olivet and Mount Zion; and I know not 
 how it was my sight grew weak, and all objects trembled and 
 wavered in a watery film. Since we arrived, I have looked 
 down upon the city from the Mount of Olives, and up to it 
 from the Valley of Jehosaphat; but I cannot restore the 
 illusion of that first view. 
 
 We allowed our horses to walk slowly down the remaining 
 half-mile to the Jaffa gate. An Englishman, with a red silk 
 shawl over his head, was sketching the city, while an Arab 
 held an umbrella over him. Inside the gate we stumbled upon 
 an Italian shop with an Italian sign, and after threading a 
 number of intricate passages under dark archways, and being 
 turned off from one hotel, which was full of travellers, reached 
 another, kept by a converted German Jew, where we found Dr. 
 Robinson and Dr. Ely Smith, who both arrived yesterday. It
 
 JFJ1I7SAJLEM. 
 
 sounds strange to talk of a hotel in Jerusalem, but the world 
 is progressing, and there are already three. I leave to-mor 
 row for Jericho, the Jordan, and the Dead Sea, and shall have 
 more to say of Jerusalem on ray return
 
 <0 THE LANDS OF THE 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE DEAD SEA AND THE RIVER JORDAM 
 
 Bargaining for a Guard Departure from Jerusalem The Hill of Offenc 
 The Grotto of Lazarus The Valley of Fire Scenery of the Wilderness The Hills o 
 Kngudili The shore of the Dead Sea A Bituminous Bath Gallop to the Jordan 
 A watch for Robbers The Jordan Baptism The Plains of Jericho The Fountain 
 f Elisha The Mount of Temptation Return to Jerusalem. 
 
 " And the spoiler shall come upon every city, and no city shall escape ; the valley 
 also shall perish and the plain shall be destroyed, as the Lord hath spoken." 
 JEREMIAH, xlviil. 8. 
 
 JERUSALEM, May 1, 1852. 
 
 I RETURNED this afternoon from an excursion to the Dead Sea, 
 the River Jordan, and the site of Jericho. Owing to the 
 approaching heats, an early visit was deemed desirable, and the 
 shekhs, who have charge of the road, were summoned to meet 
 us on the day after we arrived There are two of these 
 gentlemen, the Shekh el-Arab (of the Bedouins), and the 
 Shekh el-Fellaheen (of the peasants, or husbandmen), to whom 
 curls traveller is obliged to pay one hundered piastres for an 
 escort. It is, in fact, a sort of compromise, by which the 
 shekhs agree not to rob the traveller, and to protect him 
 against other shekhs. If the road is not actually safe, the 
 Turkish garrison here is a mere farce, but the arrangement is 
 winked at by the Pasha, who t of Bourse, gets his share of thf
 
 DEPARTURE FROM JERUSALEM. 61 
 
 100,000 piastres which the two scamps yearly levy upon 
 travellers The sliekhs cauie to our rooms, and after trying to 
 postpone our departure, in order to attach other tourists to the 
 same escort, and thus save a little expense, took half the pay 
 and agreed to be ready the next morning. Unfortunately for 
 my original plan, the Convent of San Saba has been closed 
 within two or three weeks, and no stranger is now admitted. 
 This unusual step was caused by the disorderly conduct of some 
 Frenchmen who visited San Saba. We sent to the Bishop of 
 the Greek Church, asking a simple permission to view the 
 interior of the Convent; but without effect. 
 
 We left the city yesterday morning by St. Stephen's Gate, 
 descended to the Valley of Jehosaphat, rode under the stone 
 wall which encloses the supposed Gethsemaiie, and took a path 
 leading along the Mount of Olives, towards the Hill of 
 Offence, which stands over agaiost the southern end of the city, 
 opposite the mouth of the Vale of Hinnon. Neither of the 
 shekhs made his appearance, but sent in their stead three 
 Arabs, two of whom were mounted and armed with sabres and 
 long guns. Our man, Mustapha, had charge of the baggage- 
 uiule, carrying our tent and the provisions for the trip. It was 
 a dull, sultry morning ; a dark, leaden haze hung over Jerusa- 
 lem, and the khamseen, or sirocco-wind, came from the south- 
 west, out of the Arabian Desert. We had again resumed the 
 Oriental costume, but in spite of an ample turban, my fact 
 soon began to scorch in the dry heat. From the crest of the 
 Hill of Offence there is a wide view over the heights on both 
 sides of the valley of the Brook Kedron. Their sides are 
 worked into terraces, now green with springing grain, and LV&I 
 the bottom planted with olive .^ fig trees The upland ridgr
 
 62 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEM. 
 
 or watershed of Palestine is cultivated for a considerable 
 distance around Jerusalem. The soil is light and stony, yet 
 appears to yield a good return for the little labor bestowed 
 upon it. 
 
 Crossing the southern flank of Mount Olivet, in half an hour 
 we reached the village of Bethany, hanging on the side ot the 
 bill. It is a miserable cluster of Arab huts, with not a building 
 which appears to be more than a century old. The Grotto of 
 Lazarus is here shown, and, of course, we stopped to see it. 
 It belongs to an old Mussulman, who came out of his house with 
 a piece of waxed rope, to light us down. An aperture opens 
 ftom the roadside into the hill, and there is barely room enough 
 for a person to enter. Descending about twenty steps at a 
 sharp angle, we landed in a small, damp vault, with an opening 
 in the floor, communicating with a short passage below. The 
 vault was undoubtedly excavated for sepulchral purposes, and 
 the bodies were probably deposited (as in many Egyptian 
 tombs) in the pit under it. Our guide, however, pointed to a 
 square mass of masonry in one corner as the tomb of Lazarus, 
 whose body, he informed us, was still walled up there. There 
 was an arch in the side of the vault, once leading to other 
 chambers, but now closed np, and the guide stated that 
 seventy-four Prophets were interred therein. There seems to 
 be no doubt that the present Arab village occupies the site of 
 Bethany ; and if it could be proved that this pit existed at the 
 beginning of the Christian Era, and there never had been any 
 ether, we might accept it as the tomb of Lazarus. On the 
 erest of a high hill, over against Bethany, is an Arab Tillage oo 
 the site of Bethpage. 
 
 We descended into the valley of a winter stream, now filled
 
 THE VALLEY 01 FIKK. 68 
 
 with patches of sparse wheat, just beginning to ripen. Tht 
 mountains grew more bleak and desolate as we advanced, and 
 as there is a regular descent in the several ranges over which 
 one must pass, the distant hills of the lands of Moab and 
 Aminon were always in sight, rising like a high, blue wall 
 against the sky. The Dead Sea is 4,000 feet below Jerusa- 
 lem, but the general slope of the intervening district is sf 
 regular that from the spires of the city, and the Mount ol 
 Olives, one can look down directly upon its waters. This 
 deceived me as to the actual distance, and I could scarcely 
 credit the assertion of our Arab escort, that it would require 
 six hours to reach it. After we had ridden nearly two hours, 
 we left the Jericho road, sending Mustapha and a staunch old 
 Arab direct to our resting-place for the night, in the Valley of 
 the Jordan. The two mounted Bedouins accompanied us acrosj 
 the rugged mountains lying between us and the Dead Sea. 
 
 At first, we took the way to the Convent of Mar Saba, fol- 
 lowing the course of the Brook Keclron down the Wadj 
 wn-Nar (Valley of Fire). In half an hour more we reached 
 two large tanks, hewn out under the base of a limestone cliff, 
 and nearly filled with rain. The surface was covered with a 
 greenish vegetable scum, and three wild and dirty Arabs 
 of the hills were washing themselves in the principal one 
 Our Bedouins immediately dismounted and followed their 
 example, and after we had taken some refreshment, we had 
 the satisfaction of filling our water-jug from the same sweet 
 pool. After this, we left the San Saba road, and mounted the 
 height east of the valley. From that point, all signs of cult! 
 ration and habitation disappeared. The mountains were grim, 
 bare, and frightfully rugged. The scanty grass, coaxed into lifr
 
 64 THE LANDS OF THR SARACEN. 
 
 by the winter rains, was already scorched our, of all greenness 
 some bunches of wild sage, gnaphalium, and other hardy aro 
 matic herbs spotted the yellow soil, and in sheltered places the 
 scarlet poppies burned like coals of fire among the rifts of tha 
 gray limestone rock. Our track kept along the higher 
 ridges and crests of the hills, between the glens and gorges 
 which sank on either hand to a dizzy depth below, and were 
 so steep as to be almost inaccessible. The region is so 
 scarred, gashed and torn, that no work of man's hand can 
 save i* from perpetual desolation. It is a wilderness more 
 hopeless than the Desert. If I were left alone in the midst 
 of it, I should lie down and await death, without thought or 
 ope of rescue. 
 
 The character of the day was peculiarly suited to enhance 
 the impression of such scenery. Though there were no clouds, 
 the sun was invisible : as far as we could see, beyond the Jor- 
 dan, and away southward to the mountains of Moab and 
 the cliffs of Engaddi, the whole country was covered as with 
 the smoke of a furnace ; and the furious sirocco, that threat- 
 ened to topple us down the gulfs yawning on either hand, had 
 QO coolness on its wings. The horses were sure-footed, but 
 now and then a gust would come that made them and us 
 strain against it, to avoid being dashed against the rock on 
 one side, or hurled off the brink on the other. The atmos- 
 phere was painfully oppressive, and by and by a dogged 
 silence took possession of our party. After passing a lofty 
 peak which Francois called Djebel Nuttar, the Mountain 
 of Rain, we came to a large Moslem building, situated on 
 a bleak eminence, overlooking part of the valley of the Jordan. 
 This is tue tomb called Nebbee Moussa by the Arabs, and
 
 THE SHORE UK TIIK .DEAD SEA. 66 
 
 believed by them to stand upon the spot where Moses died 
 We halted at the gate, but no one came to admit us, though 
 my companion thought he saw a mail's head at one of the aper- 
 tures in the wall. Arab tradition here is as much at fault aa 
 Christian tradition in many other places. Ihe true Nebo is 
 somewhere in the chain of Pisgah; and though, probably, 
 I saw it, and all see it who go down to the Jordan, yet " no 
 man knoweth its place unto this day." 
 
 Beyond Nebbee Moussa, we came out upon the last heights 
 overlooking the Dead Sea, though several miles of low 
 hills remained to be passed. The head of the sea was visible 
 as far as the Ras-el-Feshka on the west, and the hot fountains 
 of Callirhoe on the eastern shore. Farther than this, all waa 
 vapor and darkness. The water was a soft, deep purple hue, 
 brightening into blue. Our road led down what seemed a vast 
 sloping causeway from the mountains, between two ravines, 
 walled by cliffs several hundred feet in height. It gradually 
 flattened into a plain, covered with a white, saline incrus- 
 tation, and grown with clumps of sour willow, tamarisk, and 
 other shrubs, among which I looked in vain for the osher, or 
 Dead Sea apple. The plants appeared as if smitten with 
 leprosy; but there were some flowers growing almost to the 
 margin of the sea. . We reached the shore about 2 P. M. 
 The heat by this time was most severe, and the air so dense as 
 to occasion pains in my ears. The Dead Sea is 1,300 feet 
 below the Mediterranean, and without doubt the lowest part 
 of the earth's surface. I attribute the oppression I felt to this 
 fact and to the sultriness of the day, rather than to any exha- 
 lation from the sea itself Francois remarked, however, that 
 had the wind which by this time was ~eering round to
 
 66 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 the tiorth-rast blown from the south, we could scarcely hav* 
 endured it. The sea resembles a great cauldron, sunk between 
 mountains from three to four thousand feet in height ; and pro- 
 bably we did not experience more than a tithe of the summer 
 Ueat. 
 
 I proposed a bath, for the sake of experiment, but Francois 
 endeavored to dissuade us. He had tried it, and nothing 
 could be more disagreeable ; we risked getting a fever, 
 and, besides, there were four hours of dangerous travel yet 
 before us. But by this time we were half undressed, and 
 soon were floating on the clear bituminous waves. The beach 
 was tine gravel and shelved gradually down. I kept my 
 turban on my head, and was careful to avoid touching the 
 water with my face. The sea was moderately warm and 
 gratefully soft and soothing to the skin. It was impossible to 
 sink ; and even while swimming, the body rose half out of the 
 water. I should think it possible to dive for a short distance, 
 bnt prefer that some one else would try the experiment. 
 With a log of wood for a pillow, one might sleep as on one of 
 the patent mattresses. The taste of the water is salty and 
 pungent, and stings the tongue like saltpetre. We were 
 obliged to dress in all haste, without even wiping off the 
 detestable liquid ; yet I experienced very little of that dis- 
 comfort which most travellers have remarked. Where the 
 skin had been previously bruised, there was a slight smarting 
 sensation, and my body felt clammy and glutinous, but the 
 bath was rather refreshing than otherwise. 
 
 We turned our horses' heads towards the Jordan, and rode 
 on over a dry, barren plain. The two Bedouins at first 
 iashed ahead at ull gallop, uttering cries, and whirling then
 
 A WATCH FOR ROBBERS. 61 
 
 long gnns in the air. The dust they raised was blown in oni 
 faces, and contained so much salt that my. eyes began to smart 
 painfully. Thereupon I followed them at an equal rate of speed 
 and we left a long cloud of the accursed soil whirling behind 
 QS. Presently, however, they fell to the rear, and continued to 
 keep at some distance from us. The reason of this was soon 
 explained. The path turned eastward, and we already saw a 
 line of dusky green winding through the wilderness. This waa 
 the Jordan, and the mountains beyond, the home of robber 
 Arabs, were close at hand. Those robbers frequently cross 
 the river and conceal themselves behind the sand-hills on this 
 side. Our brave escort was, therefore, inclined to put as for- 
 ward as a forlorn-hope, and secure their own retreat in case of 
 an attack. But as we were all well armed, and had never consi- 
 dered their attendance as anything more than a genteel way 
 of buying them off from robbing us, we allowed them to lag as 
 much as they chose. Finally, as we approached the Pilgrims' 
 Ford, one of them took his station at some distance from the 
 river, on the top of a mound, while the other got behind some 
 trees near at hand ; in order, as they said, to watch the oppo- 
 site hills, and alarm us whenever they should see any of the 
 Beni Sukrs, or the Beni Adwams, or the Tyakh, coming dowo 
 ipon us. 
 
 The Jordan at this point will not average more than teD 
 yards in breadth. It flows at the bottom of a gully about fif- 
 teen feet dsep, which traverses the broad valley in a most tor- 
 tuous course. The water has a white, clayey hue, and is very 
 Bwift. The changes of the current have formed islands and 
 beds of soil here and there, which are covered with a dense 
 jrrowth of ash, poplar, willow, and tamarisk trees. The banki
 
 88 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 of the river are bordered with thickets, now overgrown with 
 wild vines, and fragrant with flowering plants. Birds sing 
 continually in the cool, dark coverts of the trees. I found a 
 singular charm in the wild, lonely, luxuriant banks, the tangled 
 undergrowth, and the rapid, brawling course of the sacred 
 stream, as it slipped in sight and out of sight among the trees 
 It is almost impossible to reach the water at any othei 
 point than the Ford of the Pilgrims, the supposed locality 
 of the passage of the Israelites and the baptism of Christ. 
 The plain near it is still blackened by the camp-fires of the ten 
 thousand pilgrims who went down from Jerusalem three weeks 
 ago, to bathe. We tied our horses to the trees, and prepared 
 to follow their example, which was necessary, if only to wash off 
 the iniquitous slime of the Dead Sea. Francois, in the mean- 
 tune, filled two tin flasks from the stream and stowed them iu 
 the saddle-bags. The current was so swift, that one could not 
 venture far without the risk of being carried away ; but I sue 
 ceeded in obtaining a complete and most refreshing immersion. 
 The taint of Gomorrah was not entirely washed away, but I 
 rode off with as great a sense of relief as if the baptism had 
 been a moral one, as well, and had purified me from sin. 
 
 We rode for nearly two hours, in a north-west direction, tc 
 the Bedouin village of Rihah, near the site of ancient Jericho. 
 Before reaching it, the gray salt waste vanishes, and the soil if 
 covered with grass and herbs. The barren character of the 
 first region is evidently owing to deposits from the vapors of 
 the Dea Sea, as tbej are blown over the plain by the soutfc 
 wind. The channels of streams around Jericho are filled with 
 nebbuk trees, the fruit of which is just ripening. It is appa- 
 rently indigenous, and grows more luxuriantly than on the
 
 CAMP AT JERICHO. 69 
 
 White Nile. It is a variety of the rhamnus, aud is set down 
 by botanists as the Spina Christi, of which the Saviour's mock 
 crown of thorns was made. I see no reason to doubt this, as 
 the twigs are long and pliant, and armed with small, though 
 most cruel, thorns. I had to pay for gathering some of the 
 fruit, with a torn dress and bleeding fingers. The little apples 
 which it bears are slightly acid and excellent for alleviating 
 thirst I also noticed on the plain a variety of the night- 
 shade, with large berries of a golden color. The spring 
 flowers, so plentiful now in all other parts of Palestine, have 
 already disappeared from the Valley of the Jordan. 
 
 Rihah is a vile little village of tents and mud-huts, and the 
 only relic of antiquity near it is a square tower, which may 
 possibly be of the time of Herod. There are a few gardens 
 in the place, and a grove of superb fig-trees. We found 
 our tent already pitched beside a rill which issues from the 
 Fountain of Elisha. The evening was very sultry, and the 
 musquitoes gave us no rest. We purchased some milk from 
 an old man who came to the tent, but such was his mistrust 
 of us that he refused to let us keep the earthen vessel contain- 
 ing it until morning. As we had already paid the money to 
 his son, we would not let him take the milk away until he had 
 brought the money back. He then took a dagger from his 
 waist aud threw it before us as security, while he carried off 
 the vessel and returned the price. I have frequently seen the 
 Bame mistrustful spirit exhibited in Egypt. Our two Bedouins, 
 to whom I gave some tobacco in the evening, manifested theii 
 gratitude by stealing the remainder of our stock during the 
 tight. 
 
 This morning we followed the stream to its coorce, tht
 
 70 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 Fountain of Elisha, so called as being probably that healed bj 
 the Prophet. If so, the healing was scarcely complete. The 
 water, which gashes up strong and free at the foot of a rocky 
 mound, is warm and slightly brackish. It spreads into a 
 shallow pool, shaded by a fine sycamore tree. Just below, 
 there are some remains of old walls on both sides, and the 
 stream goes roaring away through a rank jungle of canes 
 fifteen feet in height. The precise site of Jericho, I believe, 
 has not been fixed, but " the city of the palm trees," j,s it was 
 called, was probably on the plain, near some mounds which rise 
 behind the Fountain. Here there are occasional traces of 
 foundation walls, but so ruined as to give no clue to the date 
 of their erection. Further towards the mountain there are 
 some arches, which appear to be Saracenic. As we ascended 
 again into the hill-country, I observed several traces of cisterns 
 in the bottoms of ravines, which collect the rains. Herod, as 
 is well known, built many such cisterns near Jericho, where he 
 had a palace. On the first crest, to which we climbed, there is 
 part of a Roman tower yet standing. The view, looking back 
 over the valley of Jordan, is magnificent, extending from the 
 Dead Sea to the mountains of Gilead, beyond the country of 
 Ammon. I thought I could trace the point where the River 
 Yabbok comes down from Mizpeh of Gilead to join the Jordan 
 The wilderness we now entered was fully as barren, but less 
 rugged than that through which we passed yesterday. The 
 path ascended along the brink of a deep gorge, at the bottom of 
 which a little stream foamed over the rocks. The high, bleak 
 summits towards which we were climbing, are considered by 
 some Biblical geographers to be Mount Quarantana, the scene 
 of Christ's fasting and temptation. After two hours we
 
 RKTUKN TO JERUSALEM. 1 
 
 reached the rains of a large khan or hostlery, under one of the 
 peaks, which Francois stated to be the veritable " high moun- 
 tain " whence the Devil pointed out all the kingdoms of the 
 earth. There is a cave in the rock beside the road, which the 
 superstitious look upon as the orifice out of which his Satanic 
 Majesty issued. We met large numbers of Arab families, with 
 their flocks, descending from the mountains to take up their 
 summer residence near the Jordan. They were all on foot, 
 except the young children and goats, which were stowed 
 together on the backs of donkeys. The men were armed, and 
 appeared to be of the same tribe as our escort, with whom they 
 had a good understanding. 
 
 The morning was cold and cloudy, and we hurried on over 
 the hills to a fountain in the valley of the Brook Kedrot,, 
 where we breakfasted. Before we had reached Bethany a rain 
 came down, and the sky hung dark and lowering over Jerusa- 
 lem, as we passed the crest of Mount Olivet. It still rains, 
 and the filthy condition of the city exceeds anything I have 
 seen, even in the Or'ent.
 
 72 THE LANDS OP THE SARACEtf. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE CITY OF CHRIST. 
 
 Modern Jerusalem The Site of the City Mount Zion Mount Moriah The 
 Temple The Valley of Jehosaphat The Olives of Gethsemane The Mount of 
 Olives Moslem Tradition Panorama from the Summit The Interior of the 
 City The Population Missions and Missionaries Christianity in Jerusalem 
 Intolerance The Jews of Jerusalem The Face of Christ The Church of the 
 Holy Sepulchre The Holy of Holies The Sacred Localities Visions of Christ 
 The Mosque of Omar The Holy Man of Timbuctoo Preparations for De- 
 parture. 
 
 " Cut off thy hair, O Jerusalem, and cast it away, and take up a lamentation in 
 high places ; for the Lord hath rejected and forsaken the generation of his wrath." 
 TRWMTAU vii o- 
 
 " Here pilgrims roam, that strayed so far to seek 
 In Golgotha him dead, who lives in Heaven." 
 
 MILTON. 
 
 JERUSALEM, Monday^ May 3, 1852. 
 
 SINCE travel is becoming a necessary part of education, and 
 a journey through the East is no longer attended with personal 
 risk, Jerusalem will soon be as familiar a station on the grand 
 tour as Paris or Naples. The task of describing it is already 
 next to superfluous, so thoroughly has the topography of the 
 city been laid down by the surveys of Robinson and the 
 drawings of Roberts. There is little more left for Biblical 
 research. The few places which can be authenticated are 
 now generally accepted, and the many doubtful ones mast 
 always be the subjects of speculation and conjecture. There
 
 MODERN JERUSALEM. 78 
 
 is no new light which can remove the cloud of uncertainties 
 wherein one continually wanders. Yet, even rejecting al 
 these with the most skeptical spirit, there still remains enough 
 to make the place sacred in the eyes of every follower of 
 Christ. The city stands on the ancient site ; the Mount of 
 Olives looks down upon it ; the foundations of the Temple of 
 Solomon are on Mount Moriah ; the Pool of Siloam has still 
 a cup of water for those who at noontide go down to the 
 Valley of Jehosaphat ; the ancient gate yet looketh towards 
 Damascus, and of the Palace of Herod, there is a tower which 
 Time and Turk and Crusader have spared. 
 
 Jerusalem is built on the summit ridge of the hill-country 
 of Palestine, just where it begins to slope eastward. Not 
 half a mile from the Jaffa Gate, the waters run towards the 
 Mediterranean. It is about 2,700 feet above the latter, and 
 4,000 feet above the Dead Sea, to which the descent is much 
 more abrupt. The hill, or rather group of small mounts, on 
 which Jerusalem stands, slants eastward to the brink of the 
 Valley of Jehosaphat, and the Mount of Olives rises opposite, 
 from the sides and summit of which, one sees the entire city 
 spread out like a map before him. The Valley of Hinnon, 
 the bed of which is on a much higher level than that of 
 Jehosaphat, skirts the south-western and southern part of the 
 walls, and drops into the latter valley at the foot of Mount 
 Zion, the most southern of the mounts. The steep slope at 
 the junction of the two valleys is the site of the city of 
 the .Jebusites, the most ancient part of Jerusalem. It is 
 iio\v covered \vitli <rarden-teiTaees, the present wall crossing 
 from .Mount Zion on the south to Mount Moriah on the east. 
 
 A little iden, anciently called the Tyropeon, divides the 
 
 4
 
 74 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 mounts, and winds through to the Damascus Gate, OL the 
 north, though from the height of the walls and the position 
 of the city, the depression which it causes in the mass of 
 buildings is not very perceptible, except from the latter point 
 Moriah is the lowest of the mounts, and hangs directly over 
 the Valley of Jehosaphat. Its summit was built up b} 
 Solomon so as to form a quadrangular terrace, five hundred 
 by three hundred yards in dimension. The lower courses of 
 the grand wall, composed of huge blocks of gray conglomerate 
 limestone, still remain, and there seems to be no doubt that 
 they are of the time of Solomon. Some of the stones are of 
 enormous size ; I noticed several which were fifteen, and one 
 twenty-two feet in length. The upper part of the wall was 
 restored by Sultan Selim, the conqueror of Egypt, and the 
 level of the terrace now supports the great Mosque of Omar, 
 which stands on the very site of the temple. Except these 
 foundation walls, the Damascus Gate and the Tower of 
 Hippicus, there is nothing left of the ancient city. The 
 length of the present wall of circumference is about two miles 
 bat the circuit of Jerusalem, in the time of Herod, was 
 probably double that distance. 
 
 The best views of the city are from the Mount of Olives, 
 and the hill north of it, whence Titus directed the siege which 
 resulted in its total destruction. The Crusaders under God- 
 frey of Bouillon encamped on the same hill. My first wulk 
 after reaching here, was to the summit of the Mount of Olives. 
 Not far from the hotel we came upon the Via Dolorosa, up 
 which, according to Catholic tradition, Christ toiled with the 
 cross upon v ais shoulders. I found it utterly impossible to 
 imagine that I was walking in the same path, and preferred
 
 THE VALLEY OF JEHOSAl'llAT. 75 
 
 doubting the tradition. An arch is built across the street at 
 the spot where they say he was shown to the populace, 
 ( Ecce Homo.) The passage is steep and rough, descending tc 
 St. Stephen's Gate by the Governor's Palace, which stands CD 
 the site of the house of Pontius Pilate. Here, in the \\all 
 forming the northern part of the foundation of the temple, 
 there are some very fine remains of ancient workmanship 
 Prom the city wall, the ground descends abruptly to the 
 Valley of Jehosaphat. The Turkish residents have their 
 tombs on the city side, just under t the terrace of the mosque, 
 while thousands of Jews find a peculiar beatitude in having 
 themselves interred on the opposite slope of the Mount of 
 Olives, which is in some places quite covered with theif 
 crumbling tombstones. The bed of the Brook Kedron is now 
 dry and stony. A sort of chapel, built in the bottom of the 
 valley, is supposed by the Greeks to cover the tomb of the 
 Virgin a claim which the Latins consider absurd. Near this, 
 at the very foot of the Mount of Olives, the latter sect have 
 lately built a high stone wall around the Garden of Gethse- 
 mane, for the purpose, apparently, of protecting the five aged 
 olives. I am ignorant of the grounds wherefore Gethsemane 
 Is placed here. Most travellers have given their faith to the 
 spot, but Dr. Robinson, who is more reliable than any amount 
 of mere tradition, does not coincide with them. The trees do 
 not appear as ancient as some of those at the foot of Mount 
 Carmel, which are supposed to date from the Roman colony 
 established by Titus. Moreover, it is well known that at the 
 time of the taking of Jerusalem by that Emperor ail 
 the trees, for many miles around, were destroyed. Th 
 alive-trees, therefore, cannot be those under which Chris/
 
 76 THF LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 rested, even supposing this to be the true site of Getb 
 semane. 
 
 The Mount of Olives is a steep and rugged hill, dominating 
 over the city and the surrounding heights. It is still covered 
 .vith olive orcharls, and planted with patches of grain, which 
 do not thrive well on the stony soil. On the summit is a 
 mosque, with a minaret attached, which affords a grand pano- 
 ramic view. As we reached it, the Chief of the College of 
 Dervishes, in the court of the Mosque of Omar, came out with 
 a number of attendants. He saluted us courteously, which 
 would not have been the case had he been the Superior of the 
 Latin Convent, and we Greek Monks. There were some 
 Turkish ladies in the interior of the mosque, so that we could 
 not gain admittance, and therefore did not see the rock con- 
 taining the foot-prints of Christ, who, according to Moslem 
 tradition, ascended to heaven from this spot. The Mohamme- 
 ians, it may not be generally known, accept the history of 
 Christ, except his crucifixion, believing that he passed to 
 heaven without death, another person being crucified in his 
 stead. They call him the RohrAllah, or Spirit of God, 
 and consider him, after Mahomet, as the holiest of the 
 Prophets. 
 
 We ascended to the gallery of the minaret. The city lay 
 opposite, so fairly spread out to our view that almost every 
 house might be separately distinguished. It is a mass of gray 
 buildings, with dome-roofs, and but for the mosques of Omar 
 and El Aksa, with the courts and galleries around them, would 
 be exceedingly tame in appearance. The only other prominent 
 points are the towers of the Holy Sepulchre, the citadel, 
 enclosing Herod's Tower, and the mosque on mount Zion. Th
 
 A SACRKD 1'AXOKAMA. T"J 
 
 .rurkisb wall, with its sharp angles, its square bastions, and 
 the long, embrasured lines of its parapet, is the most striding 
 feature of the view. Stony hills stretch away from the city 
 on all sides, at present cheered with tracts of springing wheat, 
 but later in the season, brown and desolate. In the south, th? 
 convent of St. Elias is visible, and part of the little towu ol 
 Bethlehem. I passed to the eastern side of the gallery, and 
 looking thence, deep down among the sterile mountains, beheld 
 a long sheet of blue water, its southern extremity vanishing in 
 a hot, sulphury haze. The mountains of Ammon and Moab, 
 which formed the back-ground of my first view of Jerusalem, 
 leaned like a vast wall against the sky, beyond the mysterious 
 sea and the broad valley of the Jordan. The great depression 
 of this valley below the level of the Mediterranean gives it a 
 most remarkable character. It appears even deeper than is 
 actually the case, and resembles an enormous chasm or moat, 
 separating two different regions of the earth. The khamseen 
 was blowing from the south, from out the deserts of Edom, 
 and threw its veil of fiery vapor over the landscape. The 
 muezzin pointed out to me the location of Jericho, of Kerak 
 in Moab, and Es-Salt in the country of Ammon. Ere long 
 the shadow of the minaret denoted noon, and, placing his 
 hands on both sides of his mouth, he cried out, first on the 
 South side, towards Mecca, and then to the West, and North 
 and East : " God is great : there is no God but God, and 
 Mohammed is His Prophet! Let us prostrate ourselves before 
 Him : and to Him alone be the glory!" 
 
 Jerusalem, internally, gives no impression but that of filth, 
 ruin, poverty, and degradation. There are two or three 
 streets in the western or higher portion of the city which aw
 
 78 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN 
 
 tolerably clean, but all the others, to the very gates of t.i( 
 Holy Sepulchre, are channels of pestilence. The Jewish Quar 
 ter, which is the largest, so sickened and disgusted me, that 1 
 should rather go the whole round of the city walls than pass 
 through it a second time. The bazaars are poor, compared 
 with those of other Oriental cities of the same size, and the 
 principal trade seems to be in rosaries, both Turkish and Chris- 
 tian, crosses, seals, amulets, and pieces of the Holy Sepulchre. 
 The population, which may possibly reach 20,000, is apparently 
 Jewish, for the most part ; at least, I have been principally 
 struck with the Hebrew face, in my walks. The number of 
 Jews has increased considerably within a few years, and there 
 is also quite a number who, having been converted to Pro- 
 testantism, were brought hither at the expense of English 
 missionary societies for the purpose of forming a Protestant 
 community. Two of the hotels are kept by families of this 
 class. It is estimated that each member of the community has 
 cost the Mission about 4,500 : a sum which would have 
 Christianized tenfold the number of English heathen. The 
 Mission, however, is kept up by its patrons, as a sort of religi- 
 ous luxury. The English have lately built a very handsome 
 church within the walls, and the Rev. Dr. Gobat, well known 
 by bis missionary labors in Abyssinia, now has the title of 
 Bishop of Jerusalem. A friend of his in Central Africa gave 
 me a letter of introduction for him, and I am quite disap- 
 pointed in finding him absent. Dr. Barclay, of Virginia, a 
 most worthy mar in every respect, is at the head of the Auio 
 rican Mission here. There is, besides, what is called the 
 "American Colony,'' at the village o* Artos, near Bethlehem : 
 a little community of rcliyious enthusiasts, whose experiment.-
 
 CHRISTIANITY IX JERUSALEM. 19 
 
 in cultivation have met with remarkable success, and arc much 
 spoken of at present. 
 
 Whatever good the various missions here may, in time 
 accomplish (at present, it does not amount to much), Jerusa 
 lem is the last place in the world where an intelligent heathen 
 would be converted to Christianity. Were I cast here, iguo 
 rant of any religion, and were I to compare the lives and 
 practices of the different sects as the means of making my 
 choice in short, to judge of each faith by the conduct of its 
 professors I should at once turn Mussulman. When you 
 consider that in the Holy Sepulchre there are nineteen chapels, 
 each belonging to a different sect, calling itself Christian, and 
 that a Turkish police is always stationed there to prevent the 
 bloody quarrels which often ensue between them, you may 
 judge how those who call themselves followers of the Prince 
 of Peace practice the pure faith he sought to establish. 
 Between the Greek and Latin churches, especially, there is a 
 deadly feud, and their contentions are a scandal, not only to 
 the few Christians here, but to the Moslems themselves. I 
 believe there is a sort of truce at present, owing to the settle- 
 ment of some of the disputes as, for instance, the restoration 
 of the silver star, which the Greeks stole from the shrine of 
 the Nativity, at Bethlehem. The Latins, however, not long 
 since, demolished, vi et armis, a chapel which the Greeks com 
 menced building on Mount Zion. But, if the employment of 
 material weapons has been abandoned for the time, there is 
 none the less a war of words and of sounds still going on. Go 
 into the Holy Sepulchre, when mass is being celebrated, and 
 you can scarcely endure the din. No sooner does the Greek 
 choir begin its shrill chant, than the Latins fly to the assault
 
 80 THE LAKDS O* THE SARACEN. 
 
 They have an organ, and terribly does that organ strain it* 
 bellows and labor its pipes to drown the rival singing. YOB 
 think the Latins will carry the day, when suddenly the cymbals 
 of the Abyssinians strike in with harsh brazen clang, and, fo 
 the moment, triumph. Then there are Copts, and Maronites, 
 and Armenians, and I know not how many other sects, who 
 most have their share ; and the service that should be a many- 
 toned harmony pervaded by one grand spirit of devotion, 
 becomes a discoraant orgie, befitting the rites of Belial. 
 
 A long time ago I do not know the precise number of 
 years the Sultan granted a firman, in answer to the applica- 
 tion of both Jews and Christians, allowing the members of 
 each sect to put to death any person belonging to the other 
 sect, who should be found inside of their churches or syna- 
 gogues. The firman has never been recalled, though in every 
 place but Jerusalem it remains a dead letter. Here, although 
 the Jews freely permit Christians to enter their synagogue, a 
 Jew who should enter the Holy Sepulchre would be lucky if 
 he escaped with his life. Not long siuce, an English gentle- 
 man, who was taken by the monks for a Jew, was so severely 
 beaten that he was confined to his bed for two months. What 
 worse than scandal, what abomination, that the spot looked 
 upon by so many Christians as the most awfully sacred on 
 earth, should be the scene of such brutish intolerance ! I 
 never pass the group of Turkish officers, quietly smoking their 
 long pipes and sipping their coffee within the vestibule of the 
 Church, without a feeling of humiliation. Worso than the 
 money-changers whom Christ scourged out of the Temple, the 
 l^uardians of this edifice make use of His crucifixion and 
 resurrection as a means o' gai.i. Yoa may buy a piece of the
 
 THE JEWS OF JERUSALEM. 81 
 
 stone covering the Holy Sepulchre, duly certified by the 
 Greek Patriarch of Jerusalem, for about $7. At Bethlehem, 
 which I visited this morning, the Latin monk who showed us 
 the manger, the p t where 12,000 innocents were buried, and 
 Other things, had much less to say of the sacreduess or autheu- 
 licity of the place, than of the injustice of allowing the Greek? 
 a share in its possession 
 
 T 3 native Jewish families in Jerusalem, as well as those 
 in other parts of Palestine, present a marked difference to tho 
 Jews of Europe and America. They possess the same physi- 
 cal characteristics the dark, oblong eye, the prominent nose, 
 the strongly-marked cheek and jaw but in the latter, these 
 traits have become harsh and coarse. Centuries devoted to 
 the lowest and most debasing forms of traffic, with the endu- 
 rance of persecution and contumely, have greatly changed and 
 vulgarized the appearance of the race. But the Jews of the 
 Boly City still retain a noble beauty, which proved to mj 
 mind their descent from the ancient princely houses of Israel 
 The forehead is loftier, the eye larger and more frank in its 
 expression, the nose more delicate in its prominence, and the 
 face a purer oval. I have remarked the same distinction in 
 the countenances of those Jewish families of Europe, whose 
 members have devoted themselves to Art or Literature. 
 Mendelssohn's was a face that might have belonged to the 
 House of David. 
 
 On the evening of my arrival in the city, as I set out to 
 ralk through the bazaars, I encountered a native Jew, whose 
 face will haunt me for the rest of my life. I was sauntering 
 slowly along, asking myself "Is this Jerusalem?" when, 
 lifting my eyes, they met those of Christ 1 It was the verj 
 
 4*
 
 82 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 face which Raphael has painted the traditional features of 
 the Savioir, as they are recognised and accepted by &. 
 Christendom. The waving brown hair, partly hidden by i 
 Jewish cap, fell clustering about the ears ; the face was tli6 
 aiost perfect oval, and almost feminine in the purity of its 
 outline ; the serene, child-like mouth was shaded with a light 
 moustache, and a silky brown beard clothed the chin ; but the 
 eyes shall I ever look into such orbs again ? Large, dark, 
 unfathomable, they beamed with an expression of divine love 
 and divine sorrow, such as I never before saw iu human face. 
 The man had just emerged from a dark archway, and the 
 golden glow of the sunset, reflected from a white wall above, 
 fell upon his face. Perhaps it was tnis transfiguration which 
 made his beauty so unearthly ; but, during the moment that 
 I saw him, he was to me a revelation of the Saviour. There 
 are still miracles in the Laud of Judah. As the dusk gathered 
 in the deep streets, I could see nothing but the ineffable 
 sweetness and benignity of that countenance, and my friend 
 was not a little astonished, if not shocked, when I said to him, 
 with the earnestness of belief, on my return : "I have just 
 *een Christ." 
 
 I made the round of the Holy Sepulchre on Sunday, while 
 the monks were celebrating the festival of the Invention of the 
 Cross, in the chapel of the Empress Helena. As the finding 
 of the cross by the Empress is almost the only authority for 
 the places inclosed within the Holy Sepulchre, I went thert 
 inclined to doubt their authenticity, and came away with my 
 doubt vastly strengthened. The building is a confused laby- 
 riuth of chapels, choirs, shrines, staircases, and vaults without 
 ny definite plan or any architectural beauty, though very rid
 
 THE H01.Y SEPULCHRE 88 
 
 in parts and full of picturesque effects. Golden lamps con- 
 tinually burn before the sacred places, aud you rarely visit 
 the church without seeing some procession of monks, with 
 crosses, censers, and tapers, threading the shadowy passages, 
 from shrine to shrine It is astonishing how many localitiel 
 are assembled under one roof. At first, you are shown the 
 stone on which Christ rested from the burden of the cross ; 
 then, the place where the soldiers cast lots for His garments, 
 both of them adjoining the Sepulchre. After seeing this, you 
 are taken to the Pillar of Flagellation ; the stocks ; the place 
 of crowning with thorns ; the spot where He met His mother ; 
 the cave where the Empress Helena found the cross ; and, 
 lastly, the summit of Mount Calvary. The Sepulchre is a 
 small marble building in the centre of the church. We removed 
 our shoes at the entrance, and were taken by a Greek monk, 
 first into a sort of ante-chamber, lighted with golden lamps, 
 and having in the centre, inclosed in a case of marble, the 
 stone on which the angel sat. Stooping through a low dooi, 
 we entered the Sepulchre itself. Forty lamps of gold burn 
 unceasingly above the white marble slab, which, as the monks 
 say, protects the stone whereon the body of Christ was laid. 
 As we again emerged, our guide led us up a flight of steps to 
 a second story, in which stood a shrine, literally blazing with 
 gold. Kneeling on the marble floor, he removed a golden 
 shield, and showed us the hole in the rock of Calvary, where 
 the cross was planted. Close beside it was the fissure pro- 
 duced by the earthquake which followed the Crucifixion. But, 
 to ray eyes, aided by the light of the dim wax taper, it was no 
 violent rupture, such as an earthquake would produce, and the 
 rock did not appear tr be the same as that of which Jerusalem
 
 84 THE LANDS OF THE SARACB1C. 
 
 is built. As we turned to leave, a monk appeared with a bow 
 of sacred rose-water, which he sprinkled on our hands, bestowing 
 a double portion on a rosary of saiidnl-wood which I carried 
 But it was a Mohammedan rosary, brought from Mecca, and 
 containing the sacred number of ninety-nine beads. 
 
 I have not space here to state all the arguments for and 
 against the localities in the Holy Sepulchre. I came to the 
 conclusion that none of them were authentic, and am glad tc 
 have the concurrence of such distinguished authority as Dr. 
 Robinson. So far from this being a matter of regret, I, for 
 one, rejoice that those sacred spots are lost to the world 
 Christianity does not need them, and they are spared a daily 
 profanation in the name of religion. We know that Christ has 
 walked on the Mount of Olives, and gone down to the Pool of 
 Siloam, and tarried in Bethany; we know that here, within 
 the circuit of our vision, He has suffered agony and death, and 
 that from this little point went out all the light that h;*s made 
 the world greater and happier and better in its latex than in 
 its earlier days. 
 
 Yet, I must frankly confess, in wandering through '.ois city 
 revered alike by Christians, Jews and Turks as o;ie of the 
 holiest in the world I have been reminded of Christ, the 
 Man, rather than of Christ, the Uod. In the glory which 
 overhangs Palestine afar off, we imagine emotions which never 
 come, when we tread the soil and walk over the hallowed 
 gites. As I toiled up the Mount of Olives, in the very foot- 
 steps of Christ, panting with the heat and the difficult ascent, 
 I found it utterly impossible to conceive that the Deity, ii 
 human form, had walked there before me. And even at night, 
 %s I walk on the terraced roof, while the moon, " the
 
 VISIONS OF CHRIST 85 
 
 moon of blessed Israel," restores the Jerusalem of olden cays 
 to my imagination, the Saviour who then haunts my thoughts 
 is the Man Jesus, in those moments of trial when He felt the 
 weaknesses of our common humanity ; in that agony of struggle 
 in the garden of Gethsemane, in that still more bitter cry of 
 human doubt and human appeal from the cross : " My God 
 my God, why hast Thou forsaken me 1" Yet there is nc 
 reproach for this conception of the character of Christ 
 Better the divinely-inspired Man, the purest and most perfect 
 of His race, the pattern and type of all that is good and holy 
 in Humanity, than the Deity for whose intercession we pray, 
 while we trample His teachings under our feet. It would be 
 well for many Christian sects, did they keep more constantly 
 before their eyes the sublime humanity of Christ. How much 
 bitter intolerance and persecution might be spared the world, 
 if, instead of simply adoring Him as a Divine Mediator, they 
 would strive to walk the ways He trod on earth. But Chris- 
 tianity is still undeveloped, and there is yet no sect which 
 represents its full and perfect spirit. 
 
 It is my misfortune if I give offence by these remarks. I 
 cannot assume emotions I do not feel, and must describe Jeru- 
 salem as I found it. Since being here, I have read the 
 accounts of several travellers, and in many cases the devotional 
 rhapsodies the ecstacies of awe and reverence in which they 
 indulge, strike me as forced and affected. The pious writers 
 have described what was expected of them, not what they 
 found. It was partly ^rom reading such accounts that my 
 anticipations were raised too high, for the view of the city 
 "rom the Jaffa road and the panorama from the Mount of Olivw 
 are the only things wherein I have been pleasantly disappointed
 
 86 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN 
 
 By far the most interesting relic left to the city is the form 
 dation wall of Solomon's Temple. The Mosque of Omar, 
 according to the accounts of the Turks, and Mr. Catherwood'i 
 examination, rests on immense vaults, which are believed to be 
 the substructions of the Temple itself. Under the dome of the 
 mosque there is a large mass of natural rock, revered by the 
 Moslems as that from which Mahomet mounted the beast 
 Borak when he visited the Seven Heavens, and believed by 
 Mr. Catherwood to have served as part of the foundation of 
 the Holy of Holies. No Christian is allowed to enter the 
 mosque, or even its enclosure, on penalty of death, and even 
 ,he firman of the Sultan has failed to obtain admission for a 
 Frank. I have been strongly tempted to make the attempt in 
 my Egyptian dress, which happens to resemble that of a 
 rnollah or Moslem priest, but the Dervishes in the adjoining 
 college have sharp eyes, and my pronunciation of Arabic 
 would betray me in case I was accosted. I even went so far 
 as to buy a string of the large beads usually carried by a mol- 
 lah, but unluckily I do not know the Moslem form of prayer, 
 or I might carry out the plan under the guise of religioua 
 abstraction. This morning we succeeded in getting a nearer 
 view of the mosque from the roof of the Governor's palace. 
 Franois, by assuming the character of a Turkish cawass, 
 gained us admission. The roof overlooks the entire enclosure 
 of the Haram, and gives a complete view of the exterior of 
 the mosque and the paved court surrounding it. There is no 
 regularity in the style of the buildings in the enclosure, but the 
 general effect is highly picturesque. The great dome of the 
 mosque is the grandest in all the Orient, but the body of the 
 difice, made to resemble an octagonal tent, and covered witt
 
 THE MOSQUE OF OMAK. 87 
 
 blue aud white tiles, is not high enough to do it justice. The 
 first court is paved with marble, and has four porticoes, each ol 
 five light Saracenic arches, opening into the green park, which 
 occupies the rest of the terrace. This park is studded with 
 cypress and fig trees, and dotted all over with the tombs of 
 shekhs. As we were looking down on the spacious area, 
 behold ! who should come along but Shekh Mohammed Senoo- 
 see, the holy man of Timbuctoo, who had laid off his scarlet 
 robe and donned a green one. I called down to him, where- 
 upon he looked up and recognised us. For this reason I regret 
 our departure from Jerusalem, as I am sure a little persuasion 
 would induce the holy man to accompany me within the 
 mosque. 
 
 We leave to-morrow for Damascus, by way of Nazareth and 
 Tiberius. My original plan was to have gone to Djerash, the 
 ancient Geraza, in the land of Gilead, and thence to Bozrah, 
 in Djebel Hauaran. But Djebel Adjeloun, as the country 
 about Djerash is called, is under a powerful Bedouin shekh, 
 named Abd-el Azeez, and without an escort from him, which 
 involves considerable delay and a fee of $150, it would be 
 impossible to make the journey. We are therefore restricted 
 to the ordinary route, and in case we should meet with any 
 difficulty by the way, Mr. Smith, the American Consul, who is 
 now here, has kindly procured us a firman from the Pasha of 
 Jerusalem. All the travellers here are making preparations U 
 eave, but there are still two parties in the Desert
 
 THE LANDS OF THE SABACKK. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE HILL-COUNTRY OF PALESTINE. 
 
 Jerusalem The Tombs of the Kings El Bireh The Hill-Country Fire! 
 View of Mount Hermon The Tomb of Joseph Ebal and Gerizim The Gardeng of 
 Nations The Samaritans The Sacred Book A Scene in the Synagogue Mentoi 
 and Telemachus Ride to Samaria The Ruing of Sebaste Scriptural Landscapes- 
 Halt at Genin The Plain of Esdraelon Palestine and California The Hills of 
 \aareth Accident^Fra Joachim The Church of the Virgin The Shrine of the 
 Annunciation The Holy Places. 
 
 " Blest land of Judea ! thrice hallowed of song, 
 Where the holiest of memories pilgrim-like throng: 
 In the shade of thy palms, by the shores of thy sea, 
 On the hills of thy beauty, my heart is with thee 1 " 
 
 J. G. WHITTIEk. 
 
 LATH COHVOT, NAZARETH, Friday, May 7, 1868. 
 
 WE left Jerusalem by the Jaffa Gate, because within a few 
 months neither travellers nor baggage are allowed to pass the 
 Damascus Gate, on account of smuggling operations having 
 been carried on there. Not far from the city wall there is a 
 superb terebinth tree, now in the full glory of its shining green 
 leaves. It appears to be bathed in a perpetual dew ; the 
 rounded masses of foliage sparkle and glitter in the light, and 
 the great spreading boughs flood the turf below with & deluge 
 of delicious shade. A number of persons were reclining on the 
 grass under it, and one of them, a very handsome Christian 
 boy, spoke to us in Italian and English. I scarcely remembei
 
 TH TOMBS OF TEE KINGS. 89 
 
 a brighter and purer day than that of our departure. Th< 
 sky was a sheet of spotless blue ; every rift and scar of the 
 distant hills was retouched with a firmer pencil, and all the 
 outlines, blurred away by the haze of the previous few days, 
 were restored with wonderful distinctness. The temperature 
 was hot, but not sultry, and the air we breathed was an elixir 
 of immortality. 
 
 Through a luxuriant olive grove we reached the Tombs of 
 the Kings, situated in a small valley to the north of the ci* u y 
 Part of the valley, if not the whole of it, has been formed by 
 quarrying away the crags of marble and conglomerate lime- 
 stone for building the city. Near the edge of the low cliffs 
 overhanging it, there are some illustrations of the ancient mode 
 of cutting stone, which, as well as the custom of excavating 
 tombs iu the rock, was evidently borrowed from Egypt. The 
 upper surface of the rocks was first made smooth, after which 
 the blocks were mapped out and cut apart by grooves chiselled 
 between them. I visited four or five tombs, each of which 
 had a sort of vestibule or open portico in front. The door 
 was low, and the chambers which I entered, small and black, 
 without sculptures of any kind. The tombs bear some resem- 
 blance in their general plan to those of Thebes, except that 
 they are without ornaments, either sculptured or painted 
 There are fragments of sarcophagi in some of them. On the 
 southern side of the valley is a large quarry, evidently worked 
 f r marble, as the blocks have been cut out from below, 
 leaving a large overhanging mass, 'part of which has broken 
 off and fallen down. Some pieces which I picked up were of a 
 very fine white marble, somewhat resembling that of Carrara 
 Vlie opening of the quarry made a striking picture, the soft
 
 90 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 pink hue of the weather-stained rock contrasting exqnisitelj 
 with the vivid green of the vines festooning the entrance. 
 
 From the long hill beyond the Tombs, we took our last vie* 
 of Jerusalem, far beyond whose walls I saw the Church of the 
 Xativity, at Bethlehem. The Jewish synagogue on the top of 
 the mountain cailed Xebbee Samwil, the highest peak in Pales- 
 tine, was visible at some distance to the west. Notwithstand- 
 ing its sanctity, I felt little regret at leaving Jerusalem, and 
 cheerfully took the rough road northward, over the stony hills. 
 There were few habitations in sight, yet the hill-sides were 
 cultivated, wherever it was possible for anything to grow. 
 The wheat was just coming into head, and the people were at 
 work, planting maize. After four hours' ride, we reached El 
 Bireh, a little village on a hill, with the ruins of a convent and 
 a large khan. The place takes its name from a fountain of 
 excellent water, beside which we found our tents already 
 pitched. In the evening, two Englishmen, an ancient Mentor, 
 with a wild young Telemachus in charge, arrived, and camped 
 near us. The night was calm and cool, and the full moon 
 poured a flood of light over the bare and silent hills. 
 
 We rose long before sunrise, and rode off in the brilliant 
 morning the sky unstained by a speck of vapor. In the 
 valley, beyond El Bireh, the husbaudmeu were already at their 
 ploughs, and the village boys were on their way to the uncul- 
 tured parts of the hills, with their flockh of sheep and goats. 
 L'le valley terminated in a deen gorge, with perpendicular 
 walls of rock on either side. Our road mounted the hill on 
 he eastern side, and followed the brink of the precipice 
 through the pass, where an enchanting landscape opened upon 
 us. The village of Yebrood crowned a hill which rose oppo
 
 THE HILL-COUNTRY. 91 
 
 site, and the monntain slopes leaning towards it on all sidei 
 were covered with orchards of fig trees, and either rustling 
 with wheat or cleanly ploughed for maize. The soil was a dark 
 brown loam, and very rich. The stones have been laboriously 
 built into terraces ; and, even where heavy rocky boulder* 
 almost hid the soil, young fig and olive trees were planted in 
 the crevices between them. I have never seen more thorough 
 and patient cultivation. In the crystal of the morning air, 
 the very hills laughed with plenty, and the whole landscape 
 beamed with the signs of gladness on its countenance. 
 
 The site of ancient Bethel was not far to the right of our 
 road. Over hills laden with the olive, fig, and vine, we passed 
 to Aiu el-Haramiyeh, or the Fountain of the Robbers. Here 
 there are tombs cut in the rock on both sides of the valley. 
 Over another ridge, Ve descended to a large, bowl-shaped 
 valley, entirely covered with wheat, and opening eastward 
 towards the Jordan. Thence to Nablous (the Shechem of the 
 Old and Sychar of the New Testament) is four hours through 
 a winding dell of the richest harvest land. On the way, we 
 first caught sight of the snowy top of Mount Hermon, distant 
 at least eighty miles in a straight line. Before reaching 
 Nablous, I stopped to drink at a fountain of clear and sweet 
 water, beside a square pile of masonry, upon which sat two 
 Moslem dervishes. This, we were told, was the Tomb of 
 Joseph, whose body, after having accompanied the Israelites 
 in all their wanderings, was at last deposited near Shechem. 
 There is less reason to doubt this spot than m 3st of the sacred 
 places of Palestine, for the reason that it rests, not on Chris- 
 tian, but on Jewish tradition. The wonderful tenacity with 
 vhich the Jews cling to every record or inerner to of their earh
 
 92 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 history, and the fact that from the time of Joseph a portion ot 
 them have always lingered near the spot, render it highly 
 probable that the locality of a spot so sacred should have beet 
 preserved from generation to generation to the present time 
 It has been recently proposed to open this tomb, by digging 
 under it 'from the side. If the body of Joseph was actually 
 deposited here, there are, no doubt, some traces of it remaining 
 It must have been embalmed, according to the Egyptian cus 
 torn, and placed in a coffin of the Indian sycamore, the wood 
 of which is so nearly incorruptible, that thirty-five centuries 
 would not suffice for its decomposition. The singular interest 
 of such a discovery would certainly justify the experiment. 
 Not far from the tomb is Jacob's Well, where Christ met the 
 Woman of Samaria. This place is also considered as authen 
 tic, for the same reasons. If not wholly convincing to all, 
 there is, at least, so much probability in them that one is freed 
 from that painful coldness and incredulity with which he 
 oeholds the sacred shows of Jerusalem. 
 
 Leaving the Tomb of Joseph, the road turned to the west, 
 and entered the narrow pass between Mounts Ebal and Geri- 
 zim. The former is a steep, barren peak, clothed with terraces 
 of cactus, standing on the northern side of the pass. Mount 
 Gerizim is cultivated nearly to the top, and is truly a moun- 
 tain of blessing, compared with i^s neighbor. Through an 
 orchard of grand old olive-trees, we reached Nablous, which 
 presented a charming picture, with its long mass of white, 
 dome-topped stone houses, stretching along the foot of Gerizim 
 through a sea of bowery orchards. The bottom of the valley 
 resembles some old garden run to waste. Abundant streams, 
 poured from the generous heart of the Mount of Blessing, leap
 
 NABLOUS. 99 
 
 and gurgle with pleasant noises through thickets of orange, 
 fig, and pomegranate, through bowers of roses and tangled 
 masses of briars and wild vines. We halted in a grove of 
 olives, and, after our tent was pitched, walked upward througt 
 the orchards to the Ras-el-Ain (Promontory of the Fountain). 
 on the side of Mount Gerizim. A multitude of beggars sat 
 at the city gate ; and, as they continued to clamor after I had 
 given sufficient alms, I paid them with "Allah deelek!" (God 
 give it to you I) the Moslem's reply to such importunity 
 and they ceased in an instant. This exclamation, it seems, 
 takes away from them the power of demanding a second 
 time. 
 
 From under the Ras-el-Ain gushes forth the Fountain of 
 Honey, so called from the sweetness and purity of the water. 
 We drank of it, and I found the taste very agreeable, but my 
 companion declared that it had an unpleasant woolly flavor. 
 When we climbed a little higher, we found that the true source 
 from which the fountain is supplied was above, and that an 
 Arab was washing a flock of sheep in it 1 We continued our 
 walk along the side of the mountain to the other end of the 
 sity, through gardens of almond, apricot, prune, and walnut- 
 trees, bound each to each by great vines, whose heavy arms 
 they seemed barely able to support. The interior of the town 
 is dark and filthy; but it has a long, busy bazaar extending 
 its whole length, and a caf6, where we procured the best 
 coffee in Syria. 
 
 Nablous is noted for the existence of a small remnant of the 
 ancient Samaritans. The stock has gradually dwindled away, 
 and amounts to only forty families, containing little more than 
 a hundred and fifty individuals. They lire in a particular
 
 THE LANDS OP THE SARACEN. 
 
 .-juarter of the city, and are easily distinguished from the othci 
 inhabitants by the cast of their features. A.fter our guide, 8 
 Dative of Nablous, had pointed out three or four, I had cc 
 difficulty in recognising all the others we met. They hav 
 lone:, but not prominent noses, like the Jews ; small, oblong 
 eyes, narrow lips, and fair complexions, most of them having 
 brown hair. They appear to be held in considerable obloquy 
 by the Moslems. Our attendant, who was of the low class ol 
 Arabs, took the boys we met very unceremoniously by the 
 head, calling out : " Here is another Samaritan 1" He then 
 conducted us to their synagogue, to see the celebrated Penta- 
 teuch, which is there preserved. We were taken to a small, 
 open court, shaded by an apricot-tree, where the priest, an old 
 man in a green robe and white turban, was seated in medita- 
 tion. He had a long grey beard, and black eyes, that lighted 
 up with a sudden expression of eager greed when we promised 
 him backsheesh for a sight of the sacred book. He arose and 
 took us into a sort of chapel, followed by a number of Samari- 
 tan boys. Kneeling down at a niche in the wall, he produced 
 from behind a wooden case a piece of ragged parchment, writ- 
 ten with Hebrew characters. But the guide was familiar with 
 this deception, and rated him so soundly that, after a little 
 hesitation, he laid the fragment away, and produced a large tin 
 cylinder, covered with a piece of green satin embroidered iu 
 gold. The boys stooped down and reverently kissed the 
 blazoned cover, before it was removed. The cylinder, sliding 
 open by two rows of hinges, opened at the same time the 
 parchment scroll, which was rolled at both ends. It wa ; 
 indeed, a very ancient manuscript, and in remarkable preserva- 
 tion. The rents have been carefully repaired and the scroJ
 
 A SCENE IN THE SYNAGOGUE. 96 
 
 aeatiy stitched upon another piece of parchment, covered ou 
 the outside with violet satin. The priest informed me that it 
 W&H written by the son of Aaron ; but this does not coincide 
 with the fact that the Samaritan Pentateuch is different from 
 that of the Jews. It is, however, no doubt one of the oldest 
 parchment records in the world, and thr Samaritans look upon 
 it with unbounded faith and reverence. The Pentateuch, 
 according to their version, contains their only form of religion. 
 They reject everything else which the Old Testament contains. 
 Three or four days ago was their grand feast of sacrifice, when 
 they made a burnt offering of a lamb, on the top of Mount 
 Gerizim. Within a short time, it is said they have shown 
 some curiosity to become acquainted with the New Testament, 
 and the High Priest sent to Jerusalem to procure Arabic 
 copies 
 
 I asked one of the wild-eyed boys whether he could read the 
 sacred book. " Oh, yes," said the priest, "all these boys can 
 read it ;" and the one I addressed immediately pulled a volume 
 from his breast, and commenced reading in fluent Hebrew. It 
 appeared to be a part of their church service, for both the 
 priest and boab, or door-keeper, kept up a running series of 
 responses, and occasionally the whole crowd shouted out some 
 deep-mouthed word in chorus. The old man leaned forward 
 with an expression as fixed and intense as if the text had 
 become incarnate in him, following with his lips the sound of 
 the boy's voice. It was a strange picture of religious enthu- 
 siasm, and was of itself sufficient to convince me of the legiti- 
 macy of the Samaritan's descent. When I rose to leave I gave 
 him the promised fee, and a smaller one to the boy whc read 
 the service. This was the signal for a genera) attack from tb<!
 
 96 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 door-keeper and all the boys who were present. They sur 
 rounded ma with eyes sparkling with the desire of gain, kissed 
 the border of my jacket, stroked my beard coaxiugly with thaa 
 hands, which they then kissed, and, crowding up with a bois 
 terous show of affection, were about to fall on my neck in a 
 heap, after the old Hebrew fashion. The priest, clamorous for 
 more, followed with glowing face, and the whole group had a 
 riotous and bacchanalian character, which I should never have 
 imagined could spring from such a passion as avarice. 
 
 On returning to our camp, we found Mentor and Telemachus 
 arrived, but not on such friendly terms as their Greek proto- 
 types. We were kept awake for a long time that night b} 
 their high words, and the first sound I heard the next morning 
 caine from their tent. Telemachus, I suspect, had found some 
 island of Calypso, and did not relish the cold shock of the 
 plunge into the sea, by which Mentor had forced him away. 
 He insisted on returning to Jerusalem, but as Mentor would 
 not allow him a horse, he had not the courage to try it on foot. 
 After a series of altercations, in which he took a pistol to 
 shoot the dragoman, and applied very profane terms to every 
 body in the company, his wrath dissolved into tears, and when 
 we left, Mentor had decided to rest a day at Nablous, and let 
 him recover from the effects of the storm. 
 
 We rode down the beautiful valley, taking the road to 
 Sebaste (Samaria), while our luggage-mules kept directly ovei 
 she mountains to Jenin. Our path at first followed the course 
 of the stream, between turfy banks and through luxuriant 
 orchards. The whole country we overlooked was planted with 
 olive-trees, and, except the very summits of the mountains, 
 covered with grain-fields For two hours our course was
 
 THE RUINS OF SAMARIA. 97 
 
 north-east, leading over the hills, and now and then dipping into 
 beautiful dells. In one of these a large stream gushes from 
 the earth in a full fountain, at the foot of a great olive-tree. 
 The hill-side above it was a complete mass of foliage, crowned 
 with the white walls of a Syrian village. Descending the val- 
 ley, which is very deep, we came in sight of Samaria, situated 
 on the summit of an isolated hill. The sanctuary of the 
 ancient Christian church of St. John towers high above the 
 mud walls of the modern village. Riding between olive- 
 orchards and wheat-fields of glorious richness and beauty, we 
 passed the remains of an acqueduct, and ascended the hill 
 The ruins of the church occupy the eastern summit. Part of 
 them have been converted into a mosque, which the Christian 
 foot is not allowed to profane. The church, which is in the 
 Byzantine style, is apparently of the time of the Crusaders. 
 It had originally a central and two side-aisles, covered with 
 groined Gothic vaults. The sanctuary is semi-circular, with a 
 row of small arches, supported by double pillars. The church 
 rests on the foundations of some much more ancient building 
 probably a temple belonging to the Roman city. 
 
 Behind the modern village, the hill terminates in a long, 
 fchptical mound, about one-third of a mile in length. We 
 made the tour of it, and were surprised at finding a large 
 number of columns, each of a single piece of marble. They 
 had once formed a double colonnade, extending from the 
 church to a gate on the western side of the summit. OUT 
 native guide said they had been covered with an arch and 
 constituted a long market or bazaar a supposition in which he 
 may be correct. From the g:ite, which is still distinctly 
 marked, we overlooked several deep valleys to the west, and
 
 98 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 OTer them all, the blue horizon of the Mediterranean, south ol 
 Caesarea, On the northern side of the hill there are upwards 
 of twenty more pillars standing, besides a number hurled 
 down, and the remains of a quadrangular colonnade, on the 
 side of the hill below. The total number of pillars on the 
 summit cannot be less than one hundred, from twelve to 
 eighteen feet in height. The hill is strewn, even to its base, 
 with large hewn blocks and fragments of sculptured stone. 
 The present name of the city was given to it by Herod, and it 
 must have been at that time a most stately and beautiful 
 place. 
 
 We descended to a valley on the east, climbed a long 
 ascent, and after crossing the broad shoulder of a mountain 
 beyond, saw below us a landscape even more magnificent than 
 that of Xablous. It was a great winding valley, its bottom 
 rolling in waves of wheat and barley, while every hill-side, up 
 to the bare rock, was mantled with groves of olive. The very 
 summits which looked into this garden of Israel, were green 
 with fragrant plants wild thyme and sage, guaphalium and 
 camomile. Away to the west was the sea, and in the north- 
 west the mountain chain of Carmel. We went down to the 
 gardens and pasture-land, and stopped to rest at the Village 
 of Geba, which bangs on the side of the mountain. A spring 
 of whitish but delicious water gushed out of the soil, iu the 
 midst of a fig orchard. The women passed us, going back and 
 forth with tall water-jars on their heads. Some herd-toys 
 brought dowu a flock of black goats, and they were all given 
 drink in a large woodet bowl. They were beautiful animals, 
 with thick curved horns, white eyes, and ears a foot long. Il 
 was a truly Biblical picture in every feature.
 
 **T,EST1NE AND CALIFORNIA. 90 
 
 Beyond, this valley we passed a circular basin, which has no 
 outlet, so that in winter the bottom of it must be a lake. 
 After winding among the hills an hour more, we came out upoe 
 the town of Jeniu, a Turkish village, with a tall white minaret, 
 at the head of the great plain of Esdraelon. It is supposed to 
 be the ancient Jezreel, where the termagant Jezebel was 
 thrown out of the window. We pitched our tent in a garden 
 near the town, under a beautiful mulberry tree, and, as the 
 place is in very bad repute, engaged a man to keep guard at 
 night. An English family was robbed there two or three 
 weeks ago. Our guard did his duty well, pacing back and 
 forth, and occasionally grounding his musket to keep up his 
 courage by the sound. In the evening, Francois caught a 
 chameleon, a droll-looking little creature, which changed color 
 in a marvellous manner. 
 
 Our road, next day, lay directly across the Plain of Esdrae- 
 lon, one of the richest districts in the world. It is now a 
 greeu sea, covered with fields of wheat and barley, or great 
 grazing tracts, on which multitudes of sheep and goats are 
 wandering. In some respects it reminded me of the Valley 
 of San Jose, and if I were to liken -Palestine to any othei 
 country I have seen, it would be California. The climate and 
 succession of the seasons are the same, the soil is very similar 
 in quality, and the landscapes present the same general 
 features. Here, in spring, the plains are covered with that 
 deluge of floral bloom, which makes California seem a paradiae. 
 Here there are the same picturesque groves, the same rark 
 6elds of wild oats clothing the mountain-sides, the same 
 aromatic herbs impregnating the air with balm, and above all, 
 ihe same blue, cloudless days and dewless nights. While
 
 100 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 travelling here, I am constantly reminded of our new Syria oc 
 the Pacific. 
 
 Towards noon, Mount Tabor separated itself from the chain 
 of hills before us, and stood out singly, at the extremity of the 
 plain. We watered our horses at a spring in a swamp, were 
 some women were collected, beating with sticks the rushes 
 they had gathered to make mats. After reaching the moun- 
 tains on the northern side of the plain, an ascent of an hour 
 and a-half, through a narrow glen, brought us to Nazareth, 
 which is situated in a cul-de-sac, under the highest peaks of 
 the range. As we were passing a rocky part of the road, 
 Mr. Harrison's horse fell with him and severely injured hig 
 leg. We were fortunately near our destination, and on reach- 
 the Latin Convent, Pra Joachim, to whose surgical abilities 
 the traveller's book bore witness, took him in charge. Many 
 others besides ourselves have had reason to be thankful for the 
 good offices of the Latin monks in Palestine. I have never 
 met with a class more kind, cordial, and genial. All the 
 convents are bound to take in and entertain all applicants 
 of whatever creed or nation for the space of three days. 
 
 In the afternoon, Pra Joachim accompanied me to the 
 Church of the Virgin, which is inclosed within the walls of the 
 convent. It is built over the supposed site of the house in 
 which the mother of Christ was living, at the time of the 
 angelic annunciation. Under the high altar, a flight of steps 
 leads down to the shrine of the Virgin, on the threshold of the 
 house, where the Angel Gabriel's foot rested, as he stood, with 
 a lily in his hand, announcing the miraculous conception. The 
 shrine, of white marble and gold, gleaming in the light of 
 golden lamps, stands under a rough arch of the natural rock
 
 THE SHRIKE OF TUT. AN'M'VCIATION. 10] 
 
 from the side of which hangs a heavy fragment of a granite 
 pillar, suspended, as the devout believe, by divine power. Fra 
 Joachim informed me that, when the Moslems attempted to 
 obliterate all tokens of the holy place, this pillar was preserved 
 by a miracle, that the locality might not be lost to the Chris- 
 tians. At the same time, he said, the angels of God carried 
 away the wooden house which stood at the entrance of the 
 grotto ; and, after letting it drop in Marseilles, whue they 
 rested, picked it up again and set it down in Loretto, where it 
 still remains. As he said this, there was such entire, absolute 
 belief in the good monk's eyes, and such happiness in that 
 belief, that not for ten times the gold on the shrine would I 
 have expressed a doubt of the story. He then bade me kneel, 
 that I might see the spot where the angel stood, and devoutly 
 repeated a paternoster while I contemplated the pure plate of 
 snowy marble, surrounded with vases of fragrant flowers, 
 between which hung cressets of gold, wherein perfumed oils 
 were burning. All the decorations of the place conveyed the 
 idea of transcendent purity and sweetness ; and, for the first 
 time in Palestine, I wished for perfect faith in the spot. Behind 
 the shrine, there are two or three chambers in the rock, which 
 served as habitations for the family of the Virgin, 
 
 A young Christian Nazarene afterwards conducted me to 
 the House of Joseph, the Carpenter, which is now inclosed in 
 a little chapel. It is merely a fragment of wall, undoubtedly 
 as old as the time of Christ, and I felt willing to consider it a 
 genuine relic. There was an honest roughness about the large 
 tones, inclosihg a small room called the carpenter's shop, 
 which I could not find it hi my heart to doubt. Besides, in a 
 quiet country 'awn like Nazareth, which has never knowu
 
 >02 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 such vicissitudes as Jerusalem, much more dependence can b* 
 placed on popular tradition. For the same reason, I looked 
 with reverence on the Table of Christ, also inclosed vithin o 
 chapel. This is a large, natural rock, about nine feet by 
 twelve, nearly square, and quite flat on the top. It is said 
 that it once served as a table for Christ and his Disciples. The 
 building called the School of Christ, where he went with other 
 children of his age, is now a church of the Syrian Christians, 
 who were performing a doleful mass, in Arabic, at the tkne of 
 my visit. It is a vaulted apartment, about forty feet long, and 
 3nly the lower part of the wall is ancient. At each of these 
 places, the Nazarene put into my hand a piece of pasteboard, 
 on which was printed a prayer in Latin, Italian, and Arabic, 
 with the information that whoever visited the place, and 
 made the prayer, would be entitled to seven years' indulgence 
 I duly read all the prayers, and, accordingly, my consciencs 
 aught to be at rest for twenty-one years.
 
 FROM NAiiARETH. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE COUNTRY OF GALILEE 
 
 Departure from Nazareth A Christian Guide Ascent of Mount Tabor Wallachian 
 Hermits The Panorama of Tabor Ride to Tiberias A Bath in Genesareth The 
 Flowers of Galilee The Mount of Beatitude Miigdala Joseph's Well Meeting 
 with a Turk The Fountain of the Salt- Works The Upper Valley of the Jordan- 
 Summer Scenery The Rivers of Lebanon Tell el-Kadi An Arcadian Region Th 
 Fountains of Banias. 
 
 " Beyond are Bethulia's mountains of green, 
 And the desolate hills of the wild Gadarene; 
 And I pause on the goat-crags of Tabor to see 
 The gleam of thy waters, O dark Galilee !" WHITTIM. 
 
 BASIAS (Cesarea Philippi), May 10, 1S59 
 
 WE left Nazareth on the morning of the 8th inst. Mj 
 companion had done so well under the care of Fra Joachim 
 that he was able to ride, and our journey was not delayed bj 
 his accident. The benedictions of the good Franciscans accom- 
 panied us as we rode away from the Convent, past the Foun- 
 tain of the Virgin, and out of the pleasant little valley where 
 the boy Jesus wandered for many peaceful years. The Chris- 
 tian guide we engaged for Mount Tabor had gone ahead, and 
 we did not find him until we had travelled for more than two 
 hours among the hills. As we approached the sacred moun- 
 tain, we came upon the region of oaks the first oak I had 
 Been since leaving Europe last auiuum. There are three or 
 four varieties, some with evergreen foliage, and in their wild
 
 104 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 luxuriance and the picturesqueness of their forms and grcnp 
 ngs, they resemble those of California. The sea of grass and 
 flowers in which they stood was sprinkled with thick tufts of 
 wild oats another point of resemblance to the latter country 
 But here, there is no gold; there, no sacred memories 
 
 The guide was waiting for us beside a spring, among tht 
 trees. He was a tall youth of about twenty, with a mild, 
 submissive face, and wore the dark-blue turban, which appears 
 to be the badge of a native Syrian Christian. I found myself 
 invol-mtarily pitying him for belonging to a despised sect. 
 There is no disguising the fact that one feels much more 
 respect for the Mussulman rulers of the East, than for their 
 oppressed subjects who profess his own faith. The surest way 
 to make a man contemptible is to treat him contemptuously, 
 and the Oriental Christians, who have been despised for centu- 
 ries, are, with some few exceptions, despicable enough. Now, 
 however, since the East has become a favorite field of travel, 
 and the Frank possesses an equal dignity with the Moslem, the 
 native Christians are beginning to hold up their heads, and the 
 return of self-respect will, in the course of time, make them 
 respectable. 
 
 Mount Tabor stands a little in advance of the hill-country, 
 frith which it is connected only by a low spur or shoulder, its 
 base being the Plain of Esdraelon. This is probably the 
 reason why it has been fixed upon as the place of the Trans- 
 figuration, as it is not mentioned by name in the New Testa- 
 ment. The words are: " an high mountain apart," which some 
 Buppose to refer to the position of the mountain, and not to 
 the remoteness of Christ and the three Disdplcs from men, 
 The sides of the mountain are covered with dumps of oak
 
 WALLACHIAN HERMITS. 105 
 
 hawthorn and other trees, in many places overrun with the 
 white honeysuckle, its fingers dropping with odor of nutmeg 
 and cloves. The ascent, by a steep and winding path, occu 
 pied an hour. The summit is nearly level, and resembles some 
 overgrown American field, or " oak opening." The grass is 
 more than knee-deep ; the trees grow high and strong, and 
 there are tangled thickets and bowers of vines without end. 
 The eastern and highest end of the mountain is covered with 
 the remains of an old fortress-convent, once a place of great 
 strength, from the thickness of its walls. In a sort of cell 
 formed among the ruins we found two monk-hermits. I 
 addressed them in all languages of which I know a salutation, 
 without effect, but at last made out that they were Walla- 
 chians. They were men of thirty-five, with stupid faces, dirty 
 garments, beards run to waste, and fur caps. Their cell was a 
 mere hovel, without furniture, except a horrid caricature of 
 the Virgin and Child, and four books of prayers in the Bulga- 
 rian character. One of them walked about knitting a stock- 
 ing, and paid no attention to us ; but the other, after giving 
 us some deliriously cold water, got upon a pile of rubbish, and 
 stood regarding us with opeu mouth while we took breakfast. 
 So far from this being a cause of annoyance, I felt really glad 
 that our presence had agitated the stagnant waters of hit 
 mind. 
 
 The day was hazy and sultry, but the panoramic view irom 
 Mount Tabor was still very fine. The great Plain of Esdraelon 
 lay below us like a vast mosaic of green and brown jasper 
 and verd-antique. On the west, Mount Carmel lifted his head 
 above the blue horizon line of the Mediterranean. Turning to 
 the other side, a strip of the Sea of Galilee glimmered deep 
 
 6*
 
 106 THE I.ANDS OF THE SARACKir. 
 
 down among the hills, and the Ghor, or the Valley ot the 
 Jordan, stretched like a broad gash through them. Beyond 
 them, the country of Djebel Adjeloun, the ancient Decapoiis, 
 which still holds the walls of Gadara and the temples and 
 theatres of Djerash, faded away into vapor, and, still further 
 to the south, the desolate hills of Gilead, the home of Jeph 
 thah. Mount Hermon is visible when the atmosphere is clear 
 but we were not able to see it. 
 
 From the top of Mount Tabor to Tiberias, on the Sea of 
 Galilee, is a journey of five hours, through a wild country, 
 with but one single miserable village on the road. At first 
 we rode through lonely dells, grown with oak and brilliant 
 with flowers, especially the large purple mallow, and then over 
 broad, treeless tracts of rolling land, but partially cultivated. 
 The heat was very great ; I had no thermometer, but should 
 judge the temperature to have been at least 95 in the shade. 
 From the edge of the upland tract, we looked down on the 
 Sea of Galilee a beautiful sheet of water sunk among the 
 mountains, and more than 300 feet below the level of the 
 Mediterranean. It lay unruffled in the bottom of the basin, 
 reflecting the peaks of the bare red mountains beyond it. 
 Tiberias was at our very feet, a few palm trees alone relieving 
 the nakedness of its dull walls. After taking a welcome drink 
 at the Fountain of Fig-trees, we descended to the town, which 
 has a desolate and forlorn air. Its walls have been partly 
 thrown down by earthquakes, and never repaired. We found 
 our tents already pitched on the bank above the lake, and 
 ander one of the tottering towers. 
 
 Not a breath of air was stirring ; the red hills smouldered 
 in the heat, and the waters of Ginesareth at our feet glim
 
 A BATH IN GENESARETH 10T 
 
 caered with an oily smoothness, unbroken by a ripple. We 
 untwisted our turbans, kicked off our baggy trowsers, and 
 speedily releasing ourselves from the barbarous restraints of 
 iress, dipped into the tepid sea and . floated lazily out until we 
 could feel the exquisite coldness of the living springs which 
 sent up their jets from the bottom. I was lying on my back, 
 moving my fins just sufficiently to keep afloat, and gazing 
 dreamily through half-closed eyes on the forlorn palms of 
 Tiberias, when a shrill voice hailed me with : " Howadji, 
 get out of our way 1" There, at the old stone gateway below 
 our tent, stood two Galilean damsels, with heavy earthen jars 
 upon their heads. " Go away yourselves, maidens 1" 1 
 answered, " if you want us to come out of the water." " But 
 >ve must fill our pitchers, * one of them replied. "Then fill 
 them at once, and be not afraid ; or leave them, and we will 
 fill them for you." Thereupon they put the pitchers down, but 
 remained watching us very complacently while we sank the 
 vessels to the bottom of the lake, and let them fill from the 
 Bolder and purer tide of the springs In bringing them back 
 through the water to the gate, the one I propelled before me 
 happened to strike against a stone, and its fair owner, on 
 receiving it, immediately pointed to a crack in the side, which 
 she declared I had made, and went off lamenting. After we 
 had resumed our garments, and were enjoying the pipe of 
 indolence and the coffee of contentment, she returned and 
 made such an outcry, that I was fain to purchase peace by the 
 price of a new pitcher. I passed the first hours of the night 
 iu looking out of my tent-door, as I lay, on the stars sparkling 
 in the bosom of Galilee, like the sheen of Assyrian spears, and 
 the glare of the great fires kindled on the opposite shore
 
 108 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 The next day, we travelled northward along the lake, 
 passing through continuous thickets of oleander, fragrant with 
 ite heavy pink blossoms. The thistles were more abundant 
 and beautiful than ever. I noticed, in particular, one with a 
 superb globular flower of a bright blue color, which would 
 make a choice ornament for our gardens at home. At the 
 north-western head of the lake, the mountains fall back and 
 leave a large tract of the richest meadow-laud, which narrows 
 away into a deep dell, overhung by high mountain headlands, 
 faced with naked cliffs of red rock. The features of the land- 
 scape are magnificent. Up the dell, I saw plainly the Mount 
 of Beatitude, beyond which lies the village of Cana of Galilee. 
 In coming up the meadow, we passed a miserable little village 
 of thatched mud huts, almost hidden by the rank weeds which 
 grew around them. A withered old crone sat at one of the 
 doors, sunning herself. " What is the name of this village ?" 
 I asked. " It is Mejdel," was her reply. This was the 
 ancient Magdala, the home of that beautiful but sinful Mag- 
 dalene, whose repentance has made her one of the brightest of 
 the Saints. The crystal waters of the lake here lave a shore 
 of the cleanest pebbles. The path goes winding through olean- 
 ders, uebbuks, patches of hollyhock, anise-seed, fennel, and 
 other spicy plants, while, on the west, great fields of barley 
 stand ripe for the cutting. In some places, the Fellahs, men 
 and women, were at work, reaping and binding the sheaves. 
 After crossing this tract, we came to the hill, at the foot of 
 which was a ruined khan, and on the summit, other undistui- 
 guishable ruins, supposed by some to be those of Capernaum 
 The site of that exalted town, however, is still a matter of 
 discussion
 
 MEETING WITH A TURK 109 
 
 We journeyed on in a most sweltering atmosphere over the 
 ascending hills, the valley of the Upper Jordan lying deep or 
 our right. In a shallow hollow, under one of the highesl 
 peaks, there stands a large deserted khan, over a well of verj 
 cold, sweet water, called Bir Youssuf by the Arabs. Some 
 where near it, according to tradition, is the field where Josepl 
 was sold by his brethren ; and the well is, no doubt, looked 
 upon by many as the identical pit into which he was thrown 
 A stately Turk of Damascus, with four servants behind him, 
 came riding up as we were resting in the gateway of the khan, 
 and, in answer to my question, informed me that the well was 
 so named from Nebbee Youssuf (the Prophet Joseph), and not 
 from Sultan Joseph Saladiu. He took us for his countrymen, 
 accosting me first in Turkish, and, even after I had talked with 
 him some time in bad Arabic, asked me whether I had been 
 making a pilgrimage to the tombs of certain holy Moslem saints, 
 in the neighborhood of Jaffa, He joined company with us, how- 
 ever, and shared his pipe with me, as we continued our journey. 
 We rode for two hours more over hills bare of trees, but 
 ',overed thick with grass and herbs, and finally lost our way. 
 Francois went ahead, dashing through the fields of barley and 
 lentils, and we reached the path again, as the Waters of 
 Merom came in sight. We then descended into the Valley of 
 the Upper Jordan, and encamped opposite the lake, at Ain el 
 Mellaha (the Fountain of the Salt-Works), the first source of 
 the sacred river. A stream of water, sufficient to turn half-a 
 dozen mills, gushes and gurgles ap at the foot cf the mountain 
 There are the remains of an ancient dam, by which a large 
 pool was formed for the irrigation of the valley. It still sup- 
 plies a little Arab mill below the fountain. This is a frontiei
 
 110 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEX 
 
 post, between the jurisdictions of the Pashas of Jerusalem 
 and Damascus, and the mukkairee of the Greek Caioyer, whc 
 left us at Tiberias, was obliged to pay a duty of seven aud i 
 half piastres on fifteen mats, which he had bought at Jerusa- 
 lem for one and a half piastres each. The poor man will 
 perhaps make a dozen piastres (about half a dollar) on these 
 mats at Damascus, after carrying them on his mule for more 
 than two hundred miles. 
 
 We pitched our tents on the grassy meadow below the 
 mill a charming spot, with Tell el-Khaiizir (the hill of wild 
 boars) just iu front, over the Waters of Merom, and the snow- 
 streaked summit of Djebel esh-Shekh the great Mount Her- 
 mon towering high above the valley. This is the loftiest 
 peak of the Anti-Lebanon, and is 10,000 feet above the sea. 
 The next morning, we rode for three hours before reaching the 
 second spring of the Jordan, at a place which Francois called 
 Tell el-Kadi, but which did not at all answer with the descrip- 
 tion given me by Dr. Robinson, at Jerusalem. The upper 
 part of the broad valley, whence the Jordan draws his waters, 
 is flat, moist, and but little cultivated. There are immense 
 herds of sheep, goats, and buffaloes wandering over it. The 
 people are a dark Arab tribe, and live in tents and miserable 
 clay huts. Where the valley begins to slope upward towards 
 the hills, they plant wheat, barley, and lentils. The soil is the 
 fattest brown loam, aud the harvests are wonderfully rich. I 
 jaw many tracts of wheat, from half A mile to a mile in extent, 
 which would average forty bushels to the acre. Yet the 
 ground is never manured, aud the Arab plough scratches up 
 bit a few inches of the surface. What a paradise might be 
 made of this country, were it in better hands I
 
 THE STREAMS OP LEBANON. Ill 
 
 The second spring is not quite so large as Ain el-Mellaha 
 but, like it, pours out a stiong stream from a single source 
 Ttie pool wa9*filled with women, washing the heavy fleeces o: 
 their sheep, and beating the dirt out of their striped camel's 
 hair abas with long poles We left it, and entered on a slope 
 of stony ground, forming the head of the valley. The view 
 extended southward, to the mountains closing the northeru 
 cove of the Sea of Galilee. It was a grand, rich landscape 
 so rich that its desolation seems forced and unnatural. High 
 on the summit of a mountain to the west, the ruins of a large 
 Crusader fortress looked down upon us. The soil, which 
 slowly climbs upward through a long valley between Lebanon 
 and Anti-Lebanon, is cut with deep ravines. The path is very 
 difficult to find ; and while we were riding forward at random, 
 looking in all directions for our baggage mules, we started up 
 a beautiful gazelle. At last, about noon, hot, hungry, and 
 thirsty, we reached a swift stream, roaring at the bottom of a 
 deep ravine, through a bed of gorgeous foliage. The odor of 
 the wild grape-blossoms, which came up to us, as we rode along 
 the edge, was overpowering in its sweetness. An old bridge 
 of two arches crossed the stream. There was a pile of rocks 
 against the central pier, and there we sat and took breakfast 
 in the shade of the maples, while the cold green waters foamed 
 at our feet. By all the Naiads and Tritons, what a joy there 
 is in beholding a running stream ! The rivers of Lebanon are 
 miracles to me, after my knowledge of the Desert. A com 
 pany of Arabs, seven in all, were gathered under the bridge 
 and, from a flute which one of them blew, I judged they were 
 taking a pastoral holiday. We kept our pistx Js beside us ; for 
 we did not like their looks Before leaving, they told us that
 
 (It THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 the country was full of robbers, and advised us to be or th 
 lookout. We rode more carefully, after this, and kept with 
 our baggage on reaching it. An hour after leaving the bridge, 
 we came to a large circular, or rather annular mound, over 
 grown with knee-deep grass and clumps of oak-trees. A large 
 stream, of a bright blue color, gushed down the north side, 
 and after half embracing the mound swept off across the 
 meadows to the Waters of Merom. There could be no doubt 
 that this was Tell el-Kadi, the site of Dan, the most northern 
 town of ancient Israel. The mound on which it was built is 
 the crater of an extinct volcano. The Hebrew word Dan 
 signifies "judge," and Tell el-Kadi, in Arabic, is "The Hill ot 
 the Judge." 
 
 The Anti-Lebanon now rose near us, its northern and 
 western slopes green with trees and grass. The first range, 
 perhaps 5,000 feet in height, shut out the snowy head of Her 
 mon ; but still the view was sublime in its large and harmoni- 
 ous outlines. Our road was through a country resembling 
 Arcadia the earth hidden by a dense bed of grass and 
 flowers ; thickets of blossoming shrubs ; old, old oaks, with 
 the most gnarled of trunks, the most picturesque of boughs, 
 and the glossiest of green leaves ; olive-trees of amazing anti- 
 quity; and, threading and enlivening all, the clear-cold floods 
 of Lebanon. This was the true haunt of Pan, whose altars 
 are now before me, graven on the marble crags of Hermou, 
 Looking on those altars, and on the landscape, lovely as a 
 Grecian dream, I forget that the lament has long been sung : 
 " Pan, Pan is dead 1" 
 
 In another hour, we reached this place, the ancient Csesaret 
 Philippi, now a poor village, cm 1 lowered in magnificent trees.
 
 BANIAS. 118 
 
 and washed by glorious waters. There are abundant remains 
 of the old city : fragments of immense walls ; broker, granite 
 columns ; traces of pavements ; great blocks of hewn stone ; 
 marble pedestals, and the like. In the rock at the foot, of the 
 mountain, there are several elegant niches, with Greek inscrip- 
 tions, besides a large natural grotto. Below them, the water 
 gushes up through the stones, in a hundred streams, forming 
 a flood of considerable size. We have made our camp in an 
 olive grove near the end of the village, beside an immense 
 terebinth tree, which is inclosed in an open court, paved with 
 stone. This is the town-hall of Banias, where the Shekh dis- 
 penses justice, and at the same time, the resort of all the idlers 
 of the place. We went up among them, soon after our arrival, 
 and were given seats of honor near the Shekh, who talked with 
 me a long time about America. The people exhibit a very 
 sensible curiosity, desiring to know the extent of our country, 
 the number of inhabitants, the amount of taxation, the price 
 of grain, and other solid information. 
 
 The Shekh and the men of the place inform us that the 
 Druses are infesting the road to Damascus. This tribe is in 
 rebellion in Djebel Hauarau, on account of the conscription, 
 and some of them, it appears, have taken refuge in the fast- 
 nesses of Hermon, where they are beginning to plunder tra- 
 vellers. While I was talking with the Shekh, a Druse came 
 down from the mountains, and sat for half an hour among the 
 villagers, under the terebinth, and we have just heard that h<c 
 has gone back the way he came. This fact has given us some 
 anxiety, as he may have been a spy sent down to gather news 
 and, if so, we are almost certain to be waylaid. If we were 
 well armed, w* should not fear a dozen, but all our weapons
 
 114 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 consist of a sword and font pistols. After consulting toge 
 ther, we decided to apply to the Shekh for two armed men, tc 
 accompany us. I accordingly went to him again, and exhibited 
 the firman of the Pasha of Jerusalem, which he read, stating 
 that, even without it, he would have felt it his duty to grant 
 our request. This is the graceful way in which the Orientals 
 submit to a peremptory order. He thinks that one man will 
 be sufficient, as we shall probably not meet with any large 
 party. 
 
 The day has been, and still is, excessively hot. The atmos- 
 phere is sweltering, and all around us, over the thick patches of 
 mallow and wild mustard, the bees are humming with a con- 
 tinuous sultry sound. The Shekh, with a number of lazj 
 villagers, is still seated under the terebinth, in a tent of shade, 
 impervious to the sun. I can hear the rush of the fountains of 
 Banias the holy springs of Hermon, whence Jordan is born 
 But what is this ? The odor of the velvety weed of Shiraz 
 meets my nostrils ; a dark-eyed son of Pan places the narghi- 
 leh at my feet ; and, bubbling more sweetly than the streams 
 of Jordan, the incense most dear to the god dims the crystal 
 censer, and floats from my lips in rhythmic ejaculations. I, 
 too, am in Arcadia t
 
 CASJLRSA PHILIPPI 116 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 CROSSING THE ANTI-LEBANON. 
 
 The Harmless Guard Csesarea Philippl The Valley of the Druses The Sides r. Mount 
 Hermon AD Alarm Threading a Defile Distant view of Djebel Hauaran Anethe 
 Alarm Camp at Katana We Ride Into Damascus. 
 
 DAMASCUS, May 12, 1808. 
 
 WE rose early, so as to be ready for a long march. The 
 guard came a mild-looking Arab without arms ; but on ou? 
 refusing to take him thus, he brought a Turkish musket, terri- 
 ble to behold, but quite guiltless of any murderous intent. 
 We gave ourselves up to fate, with true Arab resignation, and 
 began ascending the Anti-Lebanon. Up and up, by stonj 
 paths, under the oaks, beside the streams, and between the 
 wheat-fields, we climbed for two hours, and at last reached a 
 comb or dividing ridge, whence we could look into a valley on 
 the other side, or rather inclosed between the main chain and 
 the offshoot named Djebel Heish, which stretches away towards 
 the south-east. About half-way up the ascent, we passed th< 
 ruined acropolis of Caesarea Philippi, crowning the summit ot 
 a lower peak. The walls and bastions cover a great extent of 
 ground, and were evidently used as a stronghold in the Middl 
 Ages.
 
 I 1 6 THE LANDS OF THE SARACKN. 
 
 The valley into which we descended lay directly inder 01 i 
 of the peaks of Herraon and the rills that watered it were fed 
 from his snow-fields. It was inhabited by Druses, but no men 
 were to be seen, except a few poor husbandmen, ploughing or 
 the mountain-sides. The women, wearing those enormous 
 horns oil their heads which distinguish them from the Moliam 
 rnedan females, were washing at a pool below. We crossed 
 the valley, and slowly ascended the height on the oppo- 
 site side, taking care to keep with the baggage-mules. Up tc 
 this time, we met very few persons ; and we forgot the antici- 
 pated perils in contemplating the rugged scenery of the Anti- 
 Lebanon. The mountain-sides were brilliant with flowers, and 
 many new and beautiful specimens arrested our attention. The 
 asphodel grew in bunches beside the streams, and the largo 
 scarlet anemone outshone even the poppy, whose color here is 
 the quintessence of flame. Five hours after leaving Banias, 
 we reached the highest part of the pass a dreary volcanic 
 region, covered with fragments of lava. Just at this place, 
 an old Arab met us, and, after scanning us closely, stopped 
 and accosted Dervish. The latter immediately came running 
 ahead, quite excited with the news that the old man had seen 
 a company of about fifty Druses descend from the sides of 
 Mount Hermon, towards the road we were to travel. We 
 immediately ordered the baggage to halt, and Mr. Harrison, 
 FraugoiB, and myself rode on to reconnoitre. Our guard, the 
 valiant man of Banias, whose teeth already chattered witb 
 fear, prudently kept with the baggage. We crossed the ridge 
 and watched the stony mountain-sides for some time ; but nc 
 spear or glittering gun-barrel could we see. The caravan was 
 then set in motion ; and we had not proceeded far before wi
 
 VIEW FROM THE ANTI-LEBANON. Ill 
 
 met a second company of Arabs, who informed us that th 
 road was free. 
 
 Leaving the heig'its, we descended cautiously into a ravine 
 with walls of rough volcanic rock on each side. It was a pass 
 where three men might have stood their ground against a 
 hundred ; and we did not feel thoroughly convinced of our 
 safety till we had threaded its many windings and emerged 
 upon a narrow valley. A village called Beit Jenn nestled 
 under the rocks ; and below it, a grove of poplar-trees shaded 
 the banks of a rapid stream. We had now fairly crossed the 
 Anti-Lebanon. The dazzling snows of Mount Hermon over- 
 hung us on the west ; and, from the opening of the valley, we 
 looked across a wild, waste country, to the distant range of 
 Djebel Hauaran, the seat of the present rebellion, and one of 
 the most interesting regions of Syria. I regretted more than 
 ever not being able to reach it. The ruins of Bozrah, Ezra, 
 and other ancient cities, would well repay the arduous charac- 
 ter of the journey, while the traveller might succeed in getting 
 some insight into the life and habits of that singular people, 
 the Druses. But now, and perhaps for some time to come, 
 there is no chance of entering the Hauaran. 
 
 Towards the middle of the afternoon, we reached a large 
 village, which is usually the end of the first day's journey from 
 Banias. Our men wanted to stop here, but we considered 
 that to halt then would be to increase the risk, and decided to 
 push on to Katana, four hours' journey from Damascus. They 
 yielded with a bad grace ; and we jogged on over the stony 
 road, crossing the long hills which form the eastern base of the 
 Anti-Lebanon. Before long, another Arab met us with the 
 news that there was an encampment of Druses on the plain
 
 118 THE LAN1S OF THE SARACEN 
 
 between us and Katana. At this, our guard, who had reco 
 vered sufficient spirit to ride a few paces in advance, fell back, 
 and the impassive Dervish became greatly agitated. Where 
 there is an uncertain danger, it is always better to go ahead 
 than to turn back ; and we did so. But the guard reined up 
 on the top of the first ridge, trembling as he pointed to a dis- 
 tant hill, and cried out : "AJio, ahb henak!" (There they are I) 
 There were, in fact, the shadows of some rocks, which bore a 
 faint resemblance to tents. Before sunset, we reached the last 
 declivity of the mountains, and saw far in the dusky plain, the 
 long green belt of the gardens of Damascus, and here and 
 there the indistinct glimmer of a minaret. Katana, our rest- 
 ing-place for the night, lay below us, buried in orchards of olive 
 and orange. We pitched our tents on the banks of a beautiful 
 stream, enjoyed the pipe of tranquillity, after our long march, 
 and soon forgot the Druses, in a slumber that lasted unbroken 
 till dawn. 
 
 In the morning we sent back the man of Banias, left the 
 baggage to take care of itself, and rode on to Damascus, as 
 fast as our tired horses could carry us. The plain, at first 
 barren and stony, became enlivened with vineyards and fields 
 cf wheat, as we advanced. Arabs were everywhere at work, 
 ploughing and directing the water-courses. The belt of living 
 green, the bower in which the great city, the Queen of the 
 Orient, hides her beauty, drew nearer and nearer, stretching 
 out a crescent of foliage for miles on either hand, that gra 
 dually narrowed and received us into its cool and fragrant 
 heart. We sank into a sea of olive, pomegranate, orange, 
 plum, apricot, walnut, and plane trees, and were lost. The 
 sun sparkled in the rolling surface above but we swam
 
 THE REVOLT OF THE DRU8WS. 119 
 
 through the green depths, below his reach, and thus, drifted 
 on through miles of shade, entered the city. 
 
 Since our arrival, I find that two other parties of travellers, 
 one of which crossed the Anti-Lebanon on the northern side of 
 Mount Hermon, were obliged to take guards, and saw several 
 Druse spies posted on the heights, as they passed. A Russian 
 gentleman travelling from here to Tiberias, was stopped three 
 times on the road, and only escaped being plundered from the 
 fact of his having a Druse dragoman. The disturbances are 
 more serious than I had anticipated. Four regiments left here 
 yesterday, sent to the aid of a company of cavalry, which is 
 surrounded by the rebels in a valley of Dejebel Hanaran, and 
 unable to get oat.
 
 (20 THE LANDS OF THK 8ABACBM. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 PICTURES OF DAMASCUS. 
 
 Damascus from the Anti-Lebanon Entering the City A Diorama of Bazaars- Ai 
 Oriental Hotel Our Chamber The Bazaars Pipes and Coffee The Rivers o) 
 Damascus Palaces of the Jews Jewish Ladies A Christian Gentleman The 8cre 
 Localltieb Damascus Blades The Sword of Haroun Al-Raschid An Arrival frot; 
 Palmyra. 
 
 " Are not Abana and Pharpar, rivers of Damascus, better than ail the waters < - 
 taraelT-8 KINGS, v. 12. 
 
 DAMASCUS, WcilnescUiy, May 19, 1S52. 
 
 DAMASCUS is considered by many travellers as the best remain 
 ing type of an Oriental city. Constantinople is semi-European: 
 Cairo is fast becoming so ; but Damascus, away from the 
 highways of commerce, seated alone between the Lebanon and 
 the Syrian Desert, still retains, in its outward aspect and in 
 the character of its inhabitants, all the pride and fancy and 
 fanaticism of the times of the Caliphs With this judgment, 
 in general terms, I agree ; but not to its ascendancy, in every 
 respect, over Cairo. True, when you behold Damascus from 
 the Salahiyeh, the last slope of the Anti-Lebanon, it is the 
 realization of all that you have dreamed of Oriental splendor ; 
 the world has no picture more dazzling. It is Beanty carried 
 to the Sublime, as I have felt when overlooking some bound- 
 88 forest of palms within the tropics. From the hill, whose
 
 DAMASCUS FROM THE AXTI- LEBANOW. 121 
 
 ridges heave behind you until in the south ,hey rise to the 
 gnowy head of Mount Hermon, the great Syrian plain 
 stretches away to the Euphrates, broken at distances of ten 
 and fifteen miles, by two detached mountain chains In a ter- 
 rible gorge at your side, the river Barrada, tho ancient 
 Pharpar, forces its way to the plain, and its waters, divided 
 into twelve different channels, make all between you and those 
 blue island-hills of the desert, one great garden, the boundaries 
 of which your vision can barely distinguish. Its longest 
 diameter cannot be less than twenty miles. You look down on 
 a world of foliage, and fruit, and blossoms, whose hue, by 
 contrast with the barren mountains and the yellow rim of the 
 desert which incloses it, seems brighter than all other gardens 
 in the world. Through its centre, following the course of the 
 river, lies Damascus ; a line of white walls, topped with domes 
 and towers and tall minarets, winding away for miles through 
 the green sea. Nothing less than a city of palaces, whose 
 walls are marble and whose doors are ivory and pearl, could 
 keep up the enchantment of that distant view. 
 
 We rode for an hour through the gardens before entering 
 the gate. The fruit-trees, of whatever variety walnut, olive, 
 apricot, or fig were the noblest of their kind. Roses and 
 pomegranates in bloom starred the dark foliage, and the 
 scented jasmine overhung the walls. But as we approached 
 the city, the view was obscured by high mud walls on either 
 side of the road, and we only caught glimpses now and then 
 of the fragrant wilderness. The first street we entered was 
 low and mean, the houses of clay. Following this, we canif 
 to an uncovered bazaar, with rude shops on either side, pro- 
 tected by mats stretched in front and supported by poles.
 
 122 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 Here ail sorts of common stuffs and utensils were sold, and 
 the street was filled with crowds of Fellahs and Desert Araba 
 Two large sycamores shaded it, and the Seraglio of the Pasha 
 of Damascus, a plain two-story building, faced the entrance of 
 the main bazaar, which branched off into the city. We turned 
 into this, and after passing through several small bazaars 
 etocked with dried fruits, pipes and pipe-bowls, groceries, and 
 all the primitive wares of the East, reached a large passage, 
 covered with a steep wooden roof, and entirely occupied by 
 Tenders of silk stuffs. Out of this we passed through another, 
 devoted to saddles and bridles ; then another, full of spices, 
 and at last reached the grand bazaar, where all the richest 
 stuffs of Europe and the East were displayed in the shops. 
 We rode slowly along through the cool twilight, crossed here 
 and there by long pencils of white light, falling through 
 apertures in the roof, aud illuminating the gay turbans and silk 
 caftans of the lazy merchants. But out of this bazaar, at 
 intervals, opeued the grand gate of a khau, giving us a view of 
 its marble court, its fountains, and the dark arches of its store- 
 rooms ; or the door of a mosque, with its mosaic floor and pil- 
 lared corridor. The interminable lines of bazaars, with their 
 atmospheres of spice and fruit and fragrant tobacco , the 
 hushed tread of the slippered crowds ; the plash of falling foun- 
 tains and the bubbling of innumerable uarghilehs ; the pictur 
 esque merchants and their customers, no longer in the big 
 trowsers of Egypt, but the long caftans and abas of Syria j 
 the absence of Frank faces and dresses in all these there wa* 
 the true spirit of the Orient, and so far, we were charmed 
 with Damascus, 
 
 At the hotel in the Soog el-Harab, or Frank quarter, thtf
 
 AN ORIENTAL HOTEL* 122 
 
 illusion was not dissipated. It had once been the house of 
 gome rich merchant. The court into which we were ushered 
 is paved with marble, with a great stone basin, surrouuded with 
 vases of flowering plants, in the centre. Two large leniou 
 trees shade the entrance, and a vine, climbing to the top of 
 the house, makes a leafy arbor over the flat roof. The walls 
 of the house are painted in horizontal bars of blue, white, 
 orange and white a gay grotesqueness of style which does 
 not offend the eye under an eastern sun. On the southern 
 side of the court is the liwan, an arrangement for which the 
 houses of Damascus are noted. It is a vaulted apartment, 
 twenty feet high, entirely open towards the court, except a fine 
 pointed arch at the top, decorated with encaustic ornaments of 
 the most brilliant colors. In front, a tesselated pavement of 
 marble leads to the doors of the chambers ou each side. 
 Beyond this is a raised floor covered with matting, and along 
 the farther end a divan, whose piled cushions are the most 
 tempting trap ever set to catch a lazy man. Although not 
 naturally indolent, I find it impossible to resist the fascination 
 of this lounge. Leaning back, cross-legged, against the 
 cushions, with the inseparable pipe in one's hand, the view of 
 the court, the water-basin, the flowers and lemon trees, the 
 servants and dragomen going back and forth, or smoking their 
 narghilehs in the shade all framed in the beautiful arched 
 entrance, is so perfectly Oriental, so true a tableau from the 
 times of good old Haroun Al-Raschid, that one is surprised tc 
 find how many hours have slipped away while he has been 
 rileiitly enjoying it. 
 
 Opposite the liwan is a large room paved with marble, with 
 a handsome fountain in the centre. It is the finest in iht
 
 124 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 hotel, and now occupied by Lord Dalkeith and his friends 
 Our own room is on the upper floor, and is so rich in decora 
 tions that I have not yet finished the study of them. Along 
 the side, looking down on the court, we have a mosaic floor of 
 ivhite, red, black and yellow marble. Above this is raised a 
 second floor, carpeted and furnished in European style. The 
 walls, for a height of ten feet, are covered with wooden panel 
 ling, painted with arabesque devices in the gayest colors, and 
 along the top there is a series of Arabic inscriptions in gold. 
 There are a number of niches or open closets in the walls, 
 whose arched tops are adorned with pendent wooden orna 
 ments, resembling stalactites, and at the corners of the room 
 the heavy gilded and painted cornice drops into similar gro- 
 tesque incrustations. A space of bare white wall intervenes 
 between this cornice and the ceiling, which is formed of slim 
 poplar logs, laid side by side, and so covered with paint and 
 with scales and stripes and network devices in gold and silver, 
 that one would take them to be clothed with the skins of the 
 magic serpents that guard the Valley of Diamonds. My most 
 satisfactory remembrance of Damascus will be this room. 
 
 My walks through the city have been almost wholly confined 
 to the bazaars, which are of immense extent. One can walk 
 for many miles, without going beyond the cover of their peakrd 
 wooden roofs, and in all this round will find no two precisely 
 alik* One is devoted entirely to soap ; another to tobacco 
 through which you cough and sneeze your way to the bazaai 
 of spices, and delightedly inhale its perfumed air. Then ther* 
 u- the bazaar of sweetmeats ; of vegetables ; of red slippers j 
 of shawls ; of caftans ; of bakers and ovens ; of wooden ware ; 
 of jewelry a great store building, covered with vaulted pas-
 
 BAZAARS AND CAF&S. 125 
 
 sages ; of Aleppo silks ; of Baghdad carpets ; of Indian stuffs ' 
 of coffee ; and so on, through a seemingly endless variety. As 
 I have already remarked, along the line of the bazaars are 
 many khans, the resort of merchants from all parts of Turkey 
 and Persia, and even India. They are large, stately buildings, 
 and some of them have superb gateways of sculptured marble. 
 The interior courts are paved with stone, with fountains in the 
 centre, and cuany of them are covered with domes resting on 
 massive pillars. The largest has a roof of nine domes, sup- 
 ported by four grand pillars, which inclose a fountain. The 
 mosques, into which no Christian is allowed to enter, are iu 
 general inferior to those of Cairo, but their outer courts are 
 always paved with marble, adorned with fountains, and sur- 
 rounded by light and elegant corridors. The grand mosque is 
 an imposing edifice, and is said to occupy the site of a former 
 Christian church. 
 
 Another pleasant feature of the city is its coffee shops, 
 which abound in the bazaars and on the outskirts of the gar- 
 dens, beside the running streams. Those in the bazaars are 
 spacious rooms with vaulted ceilings,, divans running around 
 the four walls, and fountains in the centre. During the after- 
 noon they are nearly always filled with Turks, Armenians and 
 Persians, smoking the uarghileh, or water-pipe, which is the 
 universal custom in Damascus. The Persian tobacco, brought 
 here by the caravans from Baghdad, is renowned for this kind 
 of smoking. The most popular coffee-shop is near the citadel, 
 jn the banks and over the surface of the Pharpar. It is a 
 rough wooden building, with a roof of straw mats, but tut 
 sight and sound of the rushing waters; as they shoot away with 
 Arrowy swiftness under your feet, the shade of the trees thai
 
 126 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 line the banks, and the cool breeze that always visits tha 
 Bpot, beguile you into a second pipe ere you are aware. " El 
 ma, wa el khodra, wa el widj el hassan water, verdure and a 
 beautiful face," says an old Arab proverb, " are three things 
 which delight the heart," and the Syrians avow that all three 
 are to be found in Damascus. Not only on the three Sundays 
 of each week, but every day, in the gardens about the city ; 
 you may see whole families (and if Jews or Christians, many 
 groups of families) spending the day in the shade, beside the 
 beautiful waters. There are several gardens fitted up pur- 
 posely for these pic-nics, with kiosks, fountains and pleasant 
 seats under the trees. You bring your pipes, your provisions 
 and the like with you, but servants are in attendance to furnish 
 fire and water and coffee, for which, on leaving, you give them 
 a small gratuity. Of all the Damascenes I have yet seen, 
 there is not one but declares his city to be the Garden of the 
 World, the Pearl of the Orient, and thanks God and the 
 Prophet for having permitted him to be born and to live in it. 
 But, except the bazaars, the khans and the baths, of which 
 there are several most luxurious establishments, the city itself 
 is neither so rich nor so purely Saracenic in its architecture aa 
 Cairo. The streets are narrow and dirty, and the houses, 
 which are never more than two low stories in height, are built 
 of sun-dried bricks, coated with plaster. I miss the solid piles 
 of stone, the elegant doorways, and, above all, the exquisite 
 hanging balconies of carved wood, which meet one in the 
 old streets of Cairo. Damascus is the representative of all 
 that is gay, brilliant, and picturesque, in Oriental life; but foi 
 itately magnificence, Cairo, and, 1 suspect, Baghdad, is iti 
 superior
 
 PALACES OF THE JEWS. 121 
 
 We visited the other day the houses of somo of the richest 
 Jews and Christians. Old Abou-Ibrahim, the Jewish servant 
 of the hotel, accompanied and introduced us. It is customary 
 for travellers to make these visits, and the families, far from 
 being annoyed, are flattered by it. The exteriors of the 
 houses are mean ; but after threading a narrow passage, we 
 emerged into a court, rivalling in profusion of ornament and 
 rich contrast of colors one's early idea of the Palace of Alad- 
 din. The floors and fountains are all of marble mosaic ; the 
 arches of the liwan glitter with gold, and the walls bewilder 
 the eye with the intricacy of their adornments. In the first 
 house, we were received by the family in a room of precious 
 marbles, with niches in the walls, resembling grottoes of silver 
 stalactites. The cushions of the divan were of the richest silk, 
 and a chandelier of Bohemian crystal hung from the ceiling. 
 Silver narghik-hs were brought to us, and coffee was served in 
 heavy silver zerfs. The lady of the house was a rather corpu- 
 lent lady of about thirtj five, and wore a semi-European robe 
 of embroidered silk and lace, with full trowsers gathered at 
 the ankles, and yellow slippers. Her black hair was braided, 
 and fastened at the end with golden ornaments, and the light 
 scarf twisted around her head blazed with diamonds. The lida 
 of her large eyes were stained with kohl, and her eyebrows 
 were plucked out and shaved away so as to leave only a thin, 
 arched line, as if drawn with a pencil, above each eye Her 
 daughter, a girl of fifteen, who bore the genuine Hebrew name 
 of Rachel, had even bigger and blacker eyes than her mother ; 
 but her forehead was low, her mouth large, and the expression 
 of her face exceedingly stupid The father of the family was a 
 middle-aged man, with a well-bred air, and talked with si?
 
 128 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 Oriental politeness which was very refreshing. An Engliek 
 lady, who was of our party, said to him, through me, that ii 
 she possessed such a house she should be willing to remak 
 in Damascus. "Why does she leave, then ?" he immediately 
 answered : " this is her house, and everything that is in 
 it." Speaking of visiting Jerusalem, he asked me whether it 
 was not a more beautiful city than Damascus. " It is not 
 more beautiful," I said, " but it is more holy," an expression 
 which the whole company received with great satisfaction. 
 
 The second house we visited was even larger and richer than 
 the first, but had an air of neglect and decay. The slabs of 
 rich marble were loose and broken, about the edges of the 
 fountains ; the rich painting of the wood-work was beginning 
 to fade ; and the balustrades leading to the upper chambers 
 were broken off in places. We were ushered into a room, the 
 walls and ceilings of which were composed entirely of gilded 
 arabesque frame-work, set with small mirrors. When new, it 
 most have had a gorgeous effect ; bat the gold is now tar 
 nished, and the glasses dim. The mistress of the house was 
 seated 011 the cushions, dividing her time between her pipe and 
 her needle-work. She merely made a slight inclination of her 
 heat! as we entered, and went on with her occupation. Pre- 
 sently her two daughters and an Abyssinian slave appeared, 
 and took their places on the cushions at her feet, the whob 
 forming a charming group, which I regretted some of my 
 artist friends at home could not see. The mistress was so 
 exceedingly dignified, that she bestowed but few words on us. 
 She seemed to resent our admiration of tho slave, who was f 
 mest graceful creature ; yet her jealousy, it afterwards appear- 
 ed, had reference to her own husband, for we had scarcely left
 
 A CHRISTIAN OEXTLKMAN. Ii9 
 
 when a servant followed to inform the English lady that if sh 
 was willing to bny the Abyssinian, the mistress would sell hei 
 at once for two thousand piastres. 
 
 The last visit we paid was to the dwelling of a Marouite, 
 the richest Christian in Damascus. The house resembled 
 those we had already seen, except that, having been recenth 
 built, it was in better condition, and exhibited better taste 
 in the ornaments. No one but the lady was allowed to enter 
 the female apartments, the rest of us being entertained by the 
 proprietor, a man of fifty, and without exception the hand- 
 somest and most dignified person of that age I have ever seen. 
 He was a king without a throne, and fascinated me completely 
 by the noble elegance of his manner. In any country but the 
 Orient, I should have pronounced him incapable of an unwor- 
 thy thought : here, he may be exactly the reverse. 
 
 Although Damascus is considered the oldest city in the 
 world, the date of its foundation going beyond tradition, there 
 are very few relics of antiquity in or near it. In the bazaar 
 are three large pillars, supporting half the pediment, which are 
 said to have belonged to the Christian Church of St. John, 
 but, if so, that church must have been originally a Roman 
 temple. Part of the Roman walls and one of the city gates 
 remain; and we saw the spot where, according to tradition, 
 Saul was let down from the wall in a basket. There are twc 
 localities pointed out as the scene of his conversion, which, 
 from his own account, occurred near the city. I visited a 
 subterranean chapel claimed by the Latin monks to be the 
 cellar of the house of Ananias, in which the Apostle was 
 concealed. The cellar is, undoubtedly, of great antiquity; but 
 oa the whole quarter was for many centuries inhabited wholly 
 
 6*
 
 130 THE LANDS OK THE SARACKN'. 
 
 by Turks, it would be curious to know how the monks ascet 
 tained which was the house of Auaiiias. As for the " streei 
 called Straight," it would be difficult at present to find any in 
 Damascus corresponding to that epithet. 
 
 The famous Damascus blades, so renowned iu the time 
 Df the Crusaders, are made here no longer. The art has been 
 last for three or four centuries. Yet genuine old swords, of 
 the true steel, are occasionally to be found. They are readily 
 distinguished from modern imitations by their clear and silvery 
 ring when struck, and by the finely watered appearance of the 
 blade, produced by its having been first made of woven wire 
 and then worked over and over again until it attained the 
 requisite temper. A droll Turk, who is the shekh ed-deilal, or 
 Chief of the Auctioneers, and is nicknamed Abou-Anteeka (the 
 Father of the Antiques,), has a large collection of sabres, dag- 
 gers, pieces of mail, shields, pipes, rings, seals, and other ancient 
 articles. He demands enormous prices, but generally takes 
 about one-third of what he first asks. I have spent several 
 hours in his curiosity shop, bargaining for turquoise rings, car- 
 buncles, Persian amulets, and Circassian daggers. While 
 looking over some old swords the other day, I noticed one of 
 exquisite temper, but with a shorter blade than usual. The 
 point had apparently been snapped off in fight, but owing to 
 the excellence of the sword, or the owner's affection for it, the 
 steel had been carefully shaped into a new point. Abou- 
 Anteeka asked five hundred piastres, and I, who had taken a 
 particular fancy to possess it, offered him two hundred in ac 
 indifferent way, and then laid it aside to examine othet 
 articles. After his refusal to accept my offer, I said nothing 
 more, and was leaving the shop, when the old fellow called nw
 
 THE SWORD OF HABOUK. 181 
 
 back, saying : " You have forgotten your sword, " which 
 I thereupon took at my own price. I have shown it to Mr 
 Wood, the British Consul, who pronounced it an extremely 
 fine specimen of Damascus steel ; and, on reading the inscrip- 
 tion enamelled upon the blade, ascertains that it was made in 
 the year of the Hegira, 181, which corresponds to A.D. 798 
 This was during the Caliphate of Haroun Al-Raschid, and 
 who knows but the sword may have once flashed in the 
 presence of that great and glorious sovereign nay, been 
 drawn by his own hand ! Who knows but that the Milan 
 armor of the Crusaders may have shivered its point, on 
 the field of Askalou 1 I kiss the veined azure of thy blade, 
 Sword of Haroun ! I hang the crimson cords of thy scab- 
 bard upon my shoulder, and thou shalt henceforth clank in sil- 
 ver music at my side, singing to my ear, and mine alone, thy 
 chants of battle, thy rejoicing songs of slaughter ! 
 
 Yesterday evening, three gentlemen of Lord Dalkeith's 
 party arrived from a trip to Palmyra. The road thither lies 
 through a part of the Syrian Desert belonging to the Aneyzeh 
 tribe, who are now supposed to be in league with the Druses, 
 against the Government. Including this party, only six per- 
 BOUS have succeeded in reaching Palmyra within a year, and 
 two of them, Messrs. Noel and Cathcart, were imprisoned four 
 days by the Arabs, and only escaped by the accidental depar 
 ture of a caravan for Damascus. The present party w>s 
 obliged to travel almost wholly by night, running the gauntlet 
 of a dozen Arab encampments, and was only allowed a day's 
 Stay at Palmyra. They were all disguised as Bedouins, 
 and took nothing with them but the necessary provisions. 
 They made their appearance here last evening, in long, whit
 
 132 THE LANDS OF THE 8ARACKN. 
 
 abas, with the Bedouin keffie bound over their hea^s, theii 
 faces burnt, their eyes inflamed, and their frames feverish with 
 seven days and nights of travel. The shekh who conducted 
 them was not an Aneyzeh, and would have lost his life had 
 they fallen in with any of that tribe
 
 THE VISIONS OF HASHEESH. 133 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 THE VISIONS OF HASHEESH. 
 
 "Exalting, trembling, raging, fainting, 
 Possessed beyond the Muse's painting." 
 
 ComM. 
 
 DURING my stay in Damascus, that insatiaWe curiosity which 
 leads me to prefer the acquisition of all lawful knowledge 
 through the channels of my own personal experience, rather 
 than in less satisfactory and less laborious ways, induced me to 
 make a trial of the celebrated Hasheesh that remarkable drug 
 which supplies the luxurious Syrian with dreams more alluring 
 and more gorgeous than the Chinese extracts from his darling 
 opium pipe. The use of Hasheesh which is a preparation of 
 the dried leaves of the cannabis indica has been familiar to 
 the East for many centuries. During the Crusades, it was 
 frequently used by the Saracen warriors to stimulate them to 
 the work of slaughter, and from the Arabic term of " Hashas 
 theen," or Eaters of Hasheesh, as applied to them, the word 
 "assassin" has been naturally derived. An infusion of the 
 same plant gives to the drink called " bhang," which is in com- 
 mon use throughout India and Malaysia, its peculiar properties. 
 Thus prepared, it is a more fierce aud fatal stimulant thau the 
 paste of sugar and spices to \\aich the Turk resorts, as the 
 food of his voluptuous evening reveries. While its immediate 
 jffects seem to be more potent thau those of opium, its
 
 134 THE LANPS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 habitual use, though attended with ultimate and permanent 
 injury to the system, rarely results in such utter wreck ot 
 mind and body as that to which the votaries of the latter drug 
 inevitably condemn themselves. 
 
 A previous experience of the effects of hasheesh which 1 
 took once, and in a very mild form, while in Egypt was so 
 peculiar in its character, that my curiosity, instead of being 
 satisfied, only prompted me the more to throw myself, for once, 
 wholly under its influence. The sensations it then produced 
 were those, physically, of exquisite lightness and airiness 
 mentally, of a wonderfully keen perception of the ludicrous, in 
 the most simple and familiar objects. During the half hour in 
 which it lasted, I was at no time so far under its control, that 
 I could not, with the clearest perception, study the changes 
 through which I passed. I noted, with careful attention, the 
 fine sensations which spread throughout the whole tissue of my 
 nervous fibre, each thrill helping to divest my frame of its 
 earthy and material nature, until my substance appeared to 
 me no grosser than the vapors of the atmosphere, and while 
 sitting in the calm of the Egyptian twilight, 1 expected to be 
 lifted up and carried away by the first breeze that should ruffle 
 the Nile. While this process was going on, the objects by 
 which I was surrounded assumed a strange and whimsical 
 expression. My pipe, the oars which my boatmen plied, the 
 turban worn by the captain, the water-jars and culinary imple- 
 ments, became in themselves so inexpressibly absurd and com- 
 ical, that I was provoked into a long fit of laughter. The 
 hallucination died away as gradually as it came, leaving me 
 overcome with a soft and pleasant drowsiness from which I 
 sank into a deep, refreshing sleep.
 
 fHE VISION'S OF HA3HE.E3H 185 
 
 My companion and an English gentleman, who, with his 
 vrife, was also residing in Antonio's pleasant caravanserai 
 agreed to join me in the experiment. The dragoman of the 
 latter was deputed to procure a sufficient quantity of the drug 
 He was a dark Egyptian, speaking only the lingua franca of 
 the East, and asked me, as he took the money and departed 
 on his mission, whether he should get hasheesh "per ridert, c 
 per dormirel" " Oh, per riderc, of course," I answered ; "and 
 gee that it be strong and fresh." It is customary with the 
 Syrians to take a small portion immediately before the evening 
 meal, as it is thus diffused through the stomach and acts more 
 gradually, as well as more gently, upon the system. As our 
 dinner-hour was at sunset, I proposed taking hasheesh at that 
 time, but my friends, fearing that its operation might be more 
 speedy upon fresh subjects, and thus betray them into some 
 absurdity in the presence of the other travellers, preferred 
 waiting: until after the meal. It was then agreed that wo 
 should retire to our room, which, as it rose like a tower one 
 story higher than the rest of the building, was in a manner 
 isolated, and would screen us from observation. 
 
 We commenced by taking a tea-spoonful each of the mixture 
 which Abdallah had procured. This was about the quantity 1 
 bad taken in Egypt, and as the effect then had been so slight, 
 I judged that we ran no risk of taking an over-dose. The 
 strength of the drug, however, must have been far greater iu 
 this instance, for whereas I could in the former case distinguish 
 no flavor but that of sugar and rose leaves, I now found th< 
 taste intensely bi' ter and repulsive to the palate. We allowed 
 the paste to dissolve .slowly on our tongues, and sat some time, 
 quietly waiting the re< lit. But, hiiving beeu taken upon
 
 f36 THE l.ANiS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 full stomach, its operation was hindered, and after the laps* 
 of- nearly an hour, we could not detect the least change In om 
 feelings. My friends loudly expressed their conviction of the 
 humbug of hasheesh, but I, unwilling to give up the experi 
 ment at this point, proposed that we should take an additional 
 half spoonful, and follow it with a cup of hot tea, which, if 
 there were really any virtue in the preparation, could not fail 
 to call it into action. This was done, though not without 
 some misgivings, as we were all ignorant of the precise quan- 
 tity which constituted a dose, and the limits within which the 
 drug could be taken with safety. It was now ten o'clock ; the 
 streets of Damascus were gradually becoming silent, and the 
 fair city was bathed in the yellow lustre of the Syrian moon. 
 Only in the marble court-yard below us, a few dragomen and 
 mukkairee lingered under the lemon-trees, and beside the foun- 
 tain in the centre. 
 
 I was seated alone, nearly in the middle of the room, talking 
 with my friends, who were lounging upon a sofa placed in a 
 sort of alcove, at the farther end, when the same fine nervous 
 thrill, of which I have spoken, suddenly shot through me. 
 But this time it was accompanied with a burning sensation at 
 the pit of the stomach ; and, instead of growing upon me with 
 the gradual pace of healthy slumber, and resolving me, aa 
 before, into air, it came with the intensity of a pang, and shot 
 throbbing along the nerves to the extremities of my body. The 
 sense of limitation of the confinement of our senses within 
 the bounds of our own flesh and blood instantly fell away. 
 The walls of my frame were burst outward and tumbled into 
 ruin ; and, without thinking- what form I wore- losing sight 
 even of all idea of form I felt that I existed tl-j-oughout
 
 THE VISIONS OF HASHEESH 187 
 
 vast extent of space. The blood, pulsed from my heart, sped 
 through uncounted leagues before it reached my extremities ( 
 tne air drawn into my lungs expanded into seas of limpid 
 ether, and the arch of my skull was broader than the vault of 
 heaven. Within the concave that held my brain, were the 
 fathomless deeps of blue ; clouds floated there, and the winds 
 of heaven rolled them together, and there shone the orb of the 
 sun It was though I thought not of that at the time like 
 a revelation of the mystery of omnipresence. It is difficult to 
 describe this sensation, or the rapidity with which it mastered 
 me. In the state of mental exaltation in which I was then 
 plunged, all sensations, as they rose, suggested more or less 
 coherent images. They presented themselves to me in a double 
 form : one physical, and therefore to a certain extent tangible ; 
 the other spiritual, and revealing itself in a succession of splen- 
 did metaphors. The physical feeling of extended being was 
 accompanied by the image of an exploding meteor, not sub- 
 siding into darkness, but continuing to shoot from its centre or 
 nucleus which corresponded to the burning spot at the pit of 
 my stomach incessant adumbrations of light that finally lost 
 themselves in the infinity of space. To my mind, even now, 
 this image is still the best illustration of my sensations, as I 
 recall them ; but I greatly doubt whether the reader will find 
 it equally clear. 
 
 My curiosity was now in a way of being satisfied ; the 
 Spirit (demon, shall I not rather say?) of Hasheesh had entire 
 possession of me. I was cast upon the flood of his illusions, and 
 drifted helplessly whithersoever they might choose to bear me 
 The thrills which ran through my nervous system became more 
 rapid and fierce, accompanied with sensations tha teeped EBJ
 
 1 38 THE 1AXDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 whole being in unutterable rapture. I was encompassed by 6 
 Bea of light, through which played the pure, harmonious colon 
 that are born of light. While endeavoring, in broken expres 
 sions, to describe my feelings to my friends, who sat looking 
 upon me incredulously not yet having been affected by the 
 drug I suddenly found myself at the foot of the great Pyra- 
 mid of Cheops. The tapering courses of yellow limestone 
 gleamed like gold in the sun, and the pile rose so high that it 
 seemed to lean for support upon the blue arch of the sky. I 
 wished to ascend it, and the wish alone placed me immediately 
 upon its apex, lifted thousands of feet above the wheat-fields 
 and palm- groves of Egypt. I cast my eyes downward, and, 
 to my astonishment, saw that it was built, not of limestone, 
 but of huge square plugs of Cavendish tobacco ! Words can- 
 not paint the overwhelming sense of the ludicrous which I 
 then experienced. I writhed on my chair in an agony of 
 laughter, which was only relieved by the vision melting away 
 like a dissolving view ; till, out of my confusion of indistinct 
 images and fragments of images, another and more wonderful 
 vision arose. 
 
 The more vividly I recall the scene which followed, the more 
 carefully I restore its different features, and separate the many 
 threads of sensation which it wove into one gorgeous web, the 
 oiore I despair of representing its exceeding glory. I waa 
 moving over the Desert, not upon the rocking- dromedary, but 
 seated in a barque made of mother-of-pearl, and studded with 
 jewels of surpassing lustre. The sand was of grains of gold, 
 and my keel slid through them without jar or sound. The air 
 was radiant with excess of light, though no sun was to be seen 
 I inhaled the most delicious perf'imes ; and harmonies, such at
 
 THE VISIONS OF HASHEESH 13S 
 
 Beethoven may have hi;ard in dreams, but never wrote, floated 
 around me. The atmosphere itself was light, odor, music ; 
 and each and all sublimated beyond anything the sober^seuses 
 are capable of receiving. Before me for a thousand leagues, 
 ss it seemed stretched a vista of rainbows, whose colors 
 gleamed with the splendor of gems arches of living amethyst, 
 sapphire, emerald, topaz, and ruby. By thousands and tens 
 of thousands, they flew past me, as my dazzling barge sped 
 down the magnificent arcade ; yet the vista still stretched as 
 far as ever before me. * I revelled in a sensuous elysium, which 
 was perfect, because no sense was left ungratified. But beyond 
 all, my mind was filled with a boundless feeling of triumph. 
 My journey was that of a conqueror not of a conqueror who 
 subdues his race, either by Love or by Will, for I forgot that 
 Man existed but one victorious over the grandest as well aa 
 the subtlest forces of Nature. The spirits of Light, Color, 
 Odor, Sound, and Motion were my slaves ; and, having these, 
 I was master of the universe. 
 
 Those who are endowed to any extent with the imaginative 
 faculty, must have at least once in their lives experienced feel- 
 ings which may give them a clue to the exalted sensuous 
 raptures of my triumphal march. The view of a sublime 
 mountain landscape, the hearing of a grand orchestral sym- 
 phony, or of a choral upborne by the " full-voiced organ," or 
 even the beauty and luxury of a cloudless summer day, sug- 
 gests emotions similar in kind, if less intense. They took a 
 warmth and glow from that pure animal joy which degrade: 
 not, but spiritualizes and ennobles our material part, and 
 which differs from cold, abstract, intellectual enjoyment, as the 
 flaming diamond of the Orient differs from the icide of the
 
 THE LAN13 OF THE S1BACEN. 
 
 North. Those finer senses, which occupy a middle ground 
 between our animal and intellectual appetites, were suddenly 
 developed to a pitch beyond what I had ever dreamed, and 
 being thus at one and the same time gratified to the ft Host 
 extent of their preternatural capacity, the result was a -ingle 
 harmonious sensation, to describe which human language hag 
 rio epithet. Mahomet's Paradise, with its palaces of ruby and 
 emerald, its airs of musk aud cassia, and its rivers colder than 
 snow and sweeter than honey, would have been a poor and 
 mean terminus for my arcade of rainbows. Yet iu the charac- 
 ter of this paradise, in the gorgeous fancies of the Arabian 
 Nights, in the glow aud luxury of all Oriental poetry, I now 
 recognize more or less of the agency of hasheesh. 
 
 The fulness of my rapture expanded the sense of time ; and 
 though the whole vision was probably not more than live 
 minutes hi passing through my mind, years seemed to have 
 elapsed while I shot under the dazzling myriads of rainbow 
 arches. By and by, the rainbows, the barque of pearl and 
 jewels, and the desert of golden sand, vanished ; and, still 
 bathed in light and perfume, I found myself iu a laud of green 
 and flowery lawns, divided by hills of gently undulating out- 
 line. But, although the vegetation was the richest of earth, 
 there were neither sv-eams nor fountains to be seen ; and the 
 people who came from the hills, with brilliant garments that 
 shone in the sun, besought me to give them the blessing of 
 water. Their hands were full of branches of the corai honey- 
 suckle, in bloom. These I took ; and, breaking off the flowers 
 one by one, set them hi the earth. The slender, trumpet-like 
 babes immediately became shafts of masonry, and sank deep 
 into the earth ; the lip of the flower changed into a circular
 
 THE VISIONS OF HASHKK3H. 141 
 
 mouth of rose-colored marble, and the people, leaning over its 
 brink, lowered their pitchers to the bottom with cords, and 
 drew them up again, filled to the brim, and dripping witft 
 honey. 
 
 The most remarkable feature of these illusions was, that at 
 the time when I was most completely under their influence, I 
 knew myself to be seated in the tower of Antonio's hotel in 
 Damascus, knew that I had taken hasheesh, and that the 
 strange, gorgeeus and ludicrous fancies which possessed me, 
 were the effect of it. At the very same instant that I looked 
 upon the Valley of the Nile from the pyramid, slid over the 
 Desert, or created my marvellous wells in that beautiful pasto- 
 ral country, I saw the furniture of my room, its mosaic pave- 
 ment, the quaint Saracenic niches in the walls, the painted and 
 gilded beams of the ceiling, and the couch in the recess before 
 me, with my two companions watching me. Both sensations 
 were simultaneous, and equally palpable. While I was most 
 given up to the magnificent delusion, I saw its cause and felt 
 its absurdity most clearly. Metaphysicians say that the mind 
 is incapable of performing two operations at the same time, 
 and may attempt to explain this phenomenon by supposing a 
 rapid and incessant vibration of the perceptions between the 
 two states. This explanation, however, is not satisfactory to 
 me ; for not more clearly does a skilful musician with the 
 samo breath blow two distinct musical notes from a bugle, than 
 I was conscious of two distinct conditions of being in the samt 
 moment. Yet, singular as it may seem, neither conflicted witl 
 the other. My enjoyment of the visions was complete and 
 absolute, undisturbed by the faintest doubt of their reality ; 
 while, in some other chamber of my brain, Reason sat coolly
 
 143 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 watching them, and heaping the liveliest ridicule on their fan 
 tastic features. One set of nerves was thrilled with the bliss 
 of the gods, while another was convulsed with unquenchable 
 laughter at that very bliss. My highest ecstacips could nci 
 bear down and silence the weight of my ridicule, which, in iii 
 turn, was powerless to prevent me from running into other and 
 more gorgeous absurdities. I was double, not "swan and 
 shadow," but rather, Sphinx-like, human and beast. A true 
 Sphinx, I was a riddle and a mystery to myself. 
 
 The drug, which had been retarded in its operation on 
 account of having been taken after a meal, now began tc 
 make itself more powerfully felt. The visions were more gro 
 tesque than ever, but less agreeable ; and there was a painful 
 tension throughout my nervous system the effect of over-sti- 
 mulus. I was a mass of transparent jelly, and a confectioner 
 poured me into a twisted mould. I threw my chair aside, and 
 writhed and tortured myself for some time to force my loose 
 substance into the mould. At last, when I had so far suc- 
 ceeded that only one foot remained outside, it was lifted 
 off, and another mould, of still more crooked and intricate 
 shape, substituted. I have no doubt that the contortions through 
 which I went, to accomplish the end of my gelatinous destiny, 
 would have been extremely ludicrous to a spectator, but to me 
 they were painful and disagreeable. The sober half of me 
 went into tits of laughter over them, and through that laugh- 
 ter, my vision shifted into another scene. I had laughed until 
 my eyefc overflowed profusely. Every drop that fell, immedi- 
 ately became a large loaf of bread, and tumbled upon the 
 shop-board of a baker in the bazaar at Damascus. The more 
 I laughed, the faster the loaves fell, until sucb a pile WK
 
 THE VISIONS OF 
 
 raised about the baker, that I could hardly see the top of 
 his head. " The mail will be. suffocated," I cried, " but if he 
 were to die, I cannot stop 1" 
 
 My perceptions now became more dim and confused. I felt 
 that I was in the grasp of some giant force ; and, in the glim- 
 mering of my fading reason, grew earnestly alarmed, for iht 
 terrible stress under which my frame labored increased every 
 moment. A fierce and furious heat radiated from my stomach 
 throughout my system ; my mouth and throat were as dry and 
 hard as if made of brass, and my tongue, it seemed to me, was a 
 bar of rusty iron. I seized a pitcher of water, and drank long 
 and deeply ; but I might as well have drunk so much air, for not 
 only did it impart no moisture, but my palate and throat gave me 
 no intelligence of having drunk at all. I stood in the centre of 
 the room, brandishing my arms convulsively, and heaving 
 sighs that seemed to shatter my whole being. " Will no 
 one," I cried in distress, " cast out this devil that has posses- 
 sion of me ?" I no longer saw the room nor my friends, but 1 
 heard one of them saying, " It must be real ; he could not 
 counterfeit such an expression as that. But it don't look 
 much like pleasure." Immediately afterwards there was a 
 scream of the wildest laughter, and my countryman sprang 
 upon the floor, exclaiming, " 0, ye gods 1 I am a locomotive l' ; 
 This was his ruling hallucination ; and, for the space of two 01 
 three hours, he continued to pace to and fro with a measured 
 stride, exhaling his breath in violent jets, and when he spoke, 
 dividing his wcrds into syllables, each of which he brought out 
 with a jerk, at the same time turning his hands at his sides, as 
 if they were the cranks of imaginary wheels, The English- 
 man, as soon as he felt the dose beginning to take effect, pru
 
 144 THE LANDS OF THE 3ARACEK. 
 
 dently retreated to his own room, and what the nature cf lila 
 visions was, we never learned, for he refused to tell, and, 
 moreover, enjoined the strictest silence on his wife. 
 
 By this time it was nearly midnight. I had passed through 
 the Paradise of Hasheesh, and was plunged at once into its 
 fiercest Hell. In my ignorance I had taken what, I have 
 since learned, would have been a sufficient portion for six men, 
 and was now paying a frightful penalty for my curiosity. The 
 excited blood rushed through my frame with a sound like the 
 roaring of mighty waters. It was projected into my eyes until 
 I could no longer see ; it beat thickly in my ears, and so 
 throbbed in my heart, that I feared the ribs would give way 
 under its blows. I tore open my vest, placed my hand over 
 the spot, and tried to count the pulsations ; out there wen 
 two hearts, one beating at the rate of a thousand beats a 
 minute, and the other with a slow, dull motion. My throat, I 
 thought, was filled to the brim with blood, and streams of 
 blood were pouring from my ears. I felt them gushing warm 
 down my cheeks and neck. With a maddened, desperate feel 
 ing, I fled from the room, and walked over the flat, terraced 
 roof of the house. My body seemed to shrink and grow rigid 
 as I wrestled with the demon, and my face to become wild, 
 lean and haggard. Some lines which had struck me, years 
 before, in reading Mrs. Browning's " Rhyme of the Duchesi 
 ," flashed into my mind : 
 
 '< And the horse, in stark despair, with hi? front hoofs poised in ab, 
 
 On the last verge, roars amain ; 
 
 And he hangs, he rocks between and his nostrils curdle in 
 And he shivers, head and hoof, and the flakes of foam fall off; 
 
 And his face grows firrce and thin."
 
 THE VISIONS OF HASHEESH. 145 
 
 That pictuie of animal terror and agony was mine. I was the 
 horse, hanging poised on the verge of the giddy tower, the 
 aext moment to be borne sheer down to destruction. Involun- 
 tarily, I raised niy hand to feel the leanness and sharpness of 
 my face. Oh horror 1 the flesh had fallen from my bones, and 
 it was a skeleton head that I carried on my shoulders ! With 
 one bound I sprang to the parapet, and looked down into the 
 silent courtyard, then filled with the shadows thrown into it by 
 the sinking moon. Shall I cast myself down headlong ? was 
 the question I proposed to myself ; but though the horror of 
 that skeleton delusion was greater than my fear of death, there 
 was an invisible hand at my breast which pushed me away from 
 the brink. 
 
 I made my way back to the room, in a state of the keenest 
 suffering. My companion was still a locomotive, rushing to 
 and fro, and jerking out his syllables with the disjointed accent 
 peculiar to a steam-engine. His mouth had turned to brass, 
 like mine, and he raised the pitcher to his lips in the attempt 
 to moisten it, but before he had taken a mouthful, set the 
 pitcher down again with a yell of laughter, crying out : " How 
 mn I take water into my boiler, while I am letting off steam T 
 
 But I was now too far gone to feel the absurdity of this, or 
 his other exclamations. I was sinking deeper and deeper into 
 a pit of unutterable agony and despair. For, although I \vu- 
 oot conscious of real pain in any part of my body, the cruel 
 tension to which my nerves had been subjected filled ne 
 through and through with a sensation of distress which \\as 
 far more severe than pain itself. In addition to this, the rem- 
 nant of will with which I struggled against the demon, became 
 gradually weaker, and I felt that 1 should soon be powerless 
 
 7
 
 146 THE LANDS 07 THE SARACEN. 
 
 4 
 
 in his hands. Every effort to preserve my reason was accom- 
 panied by a pang of mortal fear, lest what I now experienced 
 was insanity, and would hold mastery o^er me for ever. The 
 thought of death, which also haunted me, was far less bitter 
 than this dread. I knew that in the struggle which was going 
 on in my frame, I was borne fearfully near the dark gulf, and 
 the thought that, at such a time, both reason and will were 
 leaving my brain, filled me with an agony, the depth and 
 blackness of which I should vainly attempt to portray. I 
 threw myself on my bed, with the excited blood still roaring 
 wildly in my ears, my heart throbbing with a force that seemed 
 to be rapidly wearing away my life, my throat dry as a pot- 
 sherd, and my stiffened tongue cleaving to the roof of my 
 mouth resisting no longer, but awaiting my fate with the 
 apathy of despair. 
 
 My companion was now approaching the same condition, 
 but as the effect of the drug on him had been less violent, so 
 his stage of suffering was more clamorous. He cried out to 
 me that he was dying, implored me to help him, and reproached 
 uie vehemently, because I lay there silent, motionless, and 
 apparently careless of his danger. " Why will he disturb 
 me ?" I thought ; " he thinks he is dying, but what is death to 
 madness ? Let him die ; a thousand deaths were more easily 
 borne than the pangs I suffer." While I was sufficiently con- 
 scious to hear his exclamations, they only provoked my keen 
 lunger ; but after a time, my senses became clouded, and I 
 sank into a stupor. As near as I can judge, this must have 
 been three o'clock in the morning, rather more than five 
 hours after the hasheesh began to take effect. I lay thus al] 
 the following day and night, in a state of gray blank oblivion,
 
 THE VISIONS OF HASHEESH. 147 
 
 broken only by a single wandering gleam of consciousness 1 
 recollect hearing Francois' voice. He told me afterwards that 
 I arose, attempted to dress myself, drank two cups of coffee, 
 and then fell back into the same death-like stupor ; bat of all 
 this, I did not retain the least knowledge. On the morning of 
 the second day, after a sleep of thirty hours, I awoke again to 
 the world, with a system utterly prostrate and unstrung, and 
 a brain clouded with the lingering images of my visions. I 
 knew where I was, and what had happened to me, but all that 
 I saw still remained unreal and shadowy. There was no taste 
 in what I ate, no refreshment in what I drauk, and it required 
 a painful effort to comprehend what was said to me and return 
 a coherent answer. Will and Reason had come back, but they 
 still sat unsteadily upon their thrones. 
 
 My friend, who was much further advanced in his recovery, 
 accompanied me to the adjoining bath, which I hoped would 
 assist in restoring me. It was with great difficulty that I pre- 
 served the outward appearance of consciousness. In spite of 
 myself, a veil now and then fell over ray mind, and after 
 wandering for years, as it seemed, in some distant world, I 
 awoke with a shock, to find myself in the steamy halls of the 
 bath, with a brown Syrian polishing my limbs. 1 suspect that 
 my language must Jiave been rambling and incoherent, and 
 that the menials who had me in charge understood my condi 
 tion, for as soon as I had stretched myself upon the com h 
 which follows the bath, a glass of very acid sherbet was pre- 
 sented to me, and after drinking it I experienced instant relief 
 Still the spell was not wholly broken, and for two or threfl 
 days I continued subject to frequent involuntary fits of absence, 
 which made me insensible, for the time, to all that was passing
 
 148 TUK LAN!'* OF THE SARACEH. 
 
 around me. I walked the streets of Damascus with a strange 
 consciousness that I was in some other place at the same time, 
 and with a constant effort to reurite my divided perceptions. 
 
 Previous to the experiment, we had decided on making a 
 bargain with the shekh for the journey to Palmyra. The 
 state, however, in which we now found ourselves, obliged us tc 
 relinquish the plan. Perhaps the excitement of a forced march 
 across the desert, and a conflict with the hostile Arabs, which 
 was quite likely to happen, might have assisted us in throwing 
 off the baneful effects of the drug ; but all the charm which 
 lay in the name of Palmyra and the romantic interest of the 
 trip, was gone. I was without courage and without energy, 
 and nothing remained for me but to leave Damascus. 
 
 Yet, fearful as my rash experiment proved to me, I did not 
 regret having made it. It revealed to me deeps of raptnrt 
 and of suffering which my natural faculties never could have 
 sounded. It has taught me the majesty of human reason and 
 of human will, even in the weakest, and the awful peril of 
 tampering with that which assails their integrity. I have here 
 faithfully and fully written out my experience, on account of 
 the lesson which it may convey to others. If I have unfortu 
 nately failed in my design, and have but awakened that restless 
 curiosity which I have endeavored to forestall, let me beg aL' 
 who are thereby led to repeat the experiment upon themselves, 
 that they be content to take the portion of hasheesh which is 
 considered sufficient for one man, and not, like me, swallow 
 enough for six.
 
 A DI8SEKTATION ON BATHING AND BODIES. 149 
 
 t DISSERTATION ON BATHING AND BODIES. 
 
 " No swan-soft woman, rubbed with lucid oils, 
 The gift of OP enamored god, more fair." 
 
 BKOWNIKQ. 
 
 WE shall not set out from Damascus we shall not leave the 
 Pearl of the Orient to glimmer through the seas of foliage 
 wherein it lies buried without consecrating a day to the 
 Bath, that material agent of peace and good-will unto men. 
 We have bathed in the Jordan, like Naaman, and been made 
 elean ; let us now see whether Abana and Pharpar, rivers of 
 Damascus, are better than the waters of Israel. 
 
 The Bath is the " peculiar institution " of the East. Coffee 
 has become colonized in France and America ; the Pipe is a 
 cosmopolite, and his blue, joyous breath congeals under 
 the Arctic Circle, or melts languidly into the soft airs of the 
 Polynesian Isles ; but the Bath, that sensuous elysium which 
 cradled the dreams of Plato, and the visions of Zoroaster, and 
 the solemn meditations of Mahomet, is only to be found under 
 an Oriental sky. The naked natives of the Torrid Zone 
 are amphibious ; they do not bathe, they live in the water 
 The European and Anglo- American wash themselves and 
 think they ha\e bathed ; they "huddrr under cold showers and
 
 150 THE LANDS OF THE SARACKN. 
 
 perform laborious antics with coarse towels. As for trie 
 Hydropathist, the Genius of the Bath, whose dwelling ia 
 in Damascus, would be convulsed with scornful laughter, conld 
 he behold that aqueous Diogenes sitting in his tub, or stretched 
 out in his wet wrappings, like a sodden mummy, in a cata 
 comb of blankets and feather beds. As the rose in the East 
 has a rarer perfume than in other lands, so does the Bath 
 bestow a superior purification and impart a more profound 
 enjoyment. 
 
 Listen not unto the lamentations of travellers, who complain 
 of the heat, and the steam, and the dislocations of their joints 
 They belong to the stiff-necked generation, who resist the pro- 
 cesses, whereunto the Oriental yields himself body and sonl 
 He who is bathed in Damascus, must be as clay in the hand* 
 of a potter. The Syrians marvel how the Frank? can walk, 
 so difficult is it to bend their joints. Moreover, they know the 
 difference between him who comes to the Bath out of a mere 
 idle curiosity, and him who has tasted its delight and holds it 
 in due honor. Only the latter is permitted to know all its 
 mysteries. The former is carelessly hurried through the ordi- 
 nary forms of bathing, and, if any trace of the cockney remain 
 in him, is quite as likely to be disgusted as pleased. Again, 
 there are many second and third-rate baths, whither cheating 
 dragomen conduct their victims, in consideration of a division 
 of spoils with the bath-keeper. Hence it is, that the Bath has 
 received but partial justice at the hands of tourists in the 
 East. If any one doubts this, let him clothe himself with 
 Oriental passiveness and resignation, go to the Hamraan 
 el-Khyateen, at Damascus, or the Batli of Mahmoud Pasha 
 at Constantinople, and do.mand that he be perfectly bathed.
 
 THE BATH. 151 
 
 Come with me, and I will show you the mysteries of the 
 perfect bath. Here is the entrance, a heavy Saracenic arch, 
 opening upon the crowded bazaar. We descend a few steps to 
 the marble pavement of a lofty octagonal hall, lighted by a 
 dome. There is a jet of sparkling water in the centre, falling 
 into a heavy stone basin. A platform about five feet in height 
 runs around the hall, and on this are ranged a number of nar- 
 row couches, with their heads to the wall, like the pallets in 
 a hospital ward. The platform is covered with straw mat- 
 ting, and from the wooden gallery which rises above it are 
 suspended towels, with blue and crimson borders. The master 
 of the bath receives us courteously, and conducts us to one of 
 the vacant couches. We kick off our red slippers below, and 
 mount the steps to the platform. Yonder traveller, in Frank 
 dress, who has just entered, goes up with his boots on, and we 
 know, from that fact, what sort of a bath he will get. 
 
 As the work of disrobing proceeds, a dark-eyed boy appears 
 with a napkin, which he holds before us, ready to bind it about 
 the waist, as soon as we regain our primitive form. Another 
 attendant throws a napkin over our shoulders and wraps a 
 third around our head, turban-wise. He then thrusts a pair of 
 wooden clogs upon our feet, and, taking us by the arm, steadies 
 our tottering and clattering steps, as we pass through a low 
 door and a warm ante-chamber v into the first hall of the bath. 
 The light, falling dimly through a cluster of bull's-eyes in the 
 domed ceiling, shows, first, a silver thread of water, playing 
 in a steamy atmosphere ; next, some dark motionless objects, 
 stretched out on a low central platform of marble. The 
 attendant spreads a linen sheet in one of the vacant places, 
 places a pillow at one end, takes off our clogs, deposits as
 
 152 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 gently on onr back, and leaves us. The pavement is warn 
 beneath us, and the first breath we draw gives us a sense oi 
 suffocation. But a bit of burning aloe-wood has just been 
 carried through the hall, and the steam is permeated with fra 
 grance. The dark-eyed boy appears with a narghileh, which 
 he places beside us, offering the amber mouth-piece to our sub- 
 missive lips. The smoke we inhale has an odor of roses ; and 
 as the pipe bubbles with our breathing, we feel that the dews 
 of sweat gather heavily upon us. The attendant now re- 
 appears, kneels beside us, and gently kneads us with dexterous 
 hands. Although no anatomist, he knows every muscle and 
 sinew whose suppleness gives ease to the body, and so moulds 
 and manipulates them that we lose the rigidity of our mechan- 
 ism, and become plastic in his hands. He turns us upon our 
 face, repeats the same process upon the back, and leaves us a 
 little longer to lie there passively, glistening in our own dew. 
 We are aroused from a reverie about nothing by a dark 
 brown shape, who replaces the clogs, puts his arm around our 
 waist and leads us into an inner hall, with a steaming tank in 
 the centre. Here he slips us off the brink, and we collapse 
 over head and ears in the fiery fluid. Once twice we dip 
 into the delicious heat, and then ere led into a marble alcove, 
 and seated flat upon the floor. The attendant stands behind 
 us, and we now perceive that his hands are encased in dark 
 hair-gloves He pounces upon an arm, which he rubs until, 
 like a serpent, we slough the worn-out skin, and resume our 
 infantile smoothness and fairness. No man can be called clean 
 until he has bathed in the East. Let him walk directly from 
 his accustomed bath and self-friction with towels, to the Ham- 
 mam el-Khyateen, and the attendant will exclaim, as he shake*
 
 THE BATH. 153 
 
 out his hair-gloves : " Frank ! it is a long time since yoi 
 have bathed/ The other arm follows, the back, the breast, 
 the legs, until the work Is complete, and we know precisely how 
 a horse feels after he has, been curried. 
 
 Now the attendant turns two cocks at the back of the 
 alcove, and holding a basin alternately under the cold and hot 
 streams, floods us at first with a fiery dash, that sends a deli- 
 cious warm shiver through every nerve ; then, with milder 
 applications, lessening the temperature of the water by semi- 
 tones, until, from the highest key of heat which we can bear, 
 we glide rapturously down the gamut until we reach the 
 lowest bass of coolness. The skin has by this time attained an 
 exquisite sensibility, and answers to these changes of tempera- 
 ture with thrills of the purest physical pleasure. In fact, the 
 whole frame seems purged of its earthy nature and trans 
 formed into something of a finer and more delicate texture 
 
 After a pause, the attendant makes his appearance with a 
 large wooden bowl, a piece of soap, and a bunch of palm- 
 fibres. He squats down beside the bowl, and speedily creates 
 a mass of snowy lather, which grows up to a pyramid and 
 topples over the edge. Seizing us by the crown-tuft of hair 
 npon our shaven head, he plants the foamy bunch of fibres full 
 in our face. The world vanishes ; sight, hearing, smell, taste 
 (unless we open our mouth), and breathing, are cut off; we 
 have become nebulous. Although our eyes are shut, we seem 
 to see a blank whiteness ; and, feeling nothing but a son 
 fleeciness, we doubt whether we be not the Olympian cloud 
 which visited lo. But the cloud clears away before strangula- 
 tion begins, and the velvety mass descends upon the body 
 Twice we are thus " slushed " from head to foot, and madt
 
 154 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 more slippery than the anointed wrestlers of the Greek games 
 Then the basin comes again into play, and we glide once mort 
 musically through the scale of temperature. 
 
 The brown sculptor has now near! 7 completed his task. Tht 
 figure of clay which entered the bath is transformed into 
 polished marble. He turns the body from side to side, and 
 lifts the limbs to see whether the workmanship is adequate to 
 his conception. His satisfied gaze proclaims his success. A 
 skilful bath-attendant has a certain aesthetic pleasure in his 
 occupation. The bodies he polishes become to some extent 
 his own workmanship, and he feels responsible for their 
 symmetry or deformity. He experiences a degree of triumph 
 in contemplating a beautiful form, which has grown more airily 
 light and beautiful under his hands. He is a great connoisseur 
 of bodies, and could pick you out the finest specimens with as 
 ready an eye as an artist. 
 
 I envy those old Greek bathers, into whose hands were 
 delivered Pericles, and Alcibiades, and the perfect models of 
 Phidias. They had daily before their eyes the highest typos 
 rf Beauty which the world has ever produced ; for of all 
 things that are beautiful, the human body is the crown. Now, 
 since the delusion of artists has been overthrown, and we know 
 that Grecian Art is but the simple reflex of Nature that the 
 old masterpieces of sculpture were no miraculous embodiments 
 of a beau ideal, but copies of living forms we must admit 
 that in uo other age of the world has the physical Man been 
 no perfectly developed. The nearest approach I have evei 
 geen to the symmetry of ancient sculpture was among the 
 Arab tribes of Ethiopia. Our Saxon race can supply th 
 athlete, bat not the Apollo.
 
 CIRCASSIAN BEAUTY 155 
 
 Oriental life is too full of repose, and the Ottoman rao^ has 
 become too degenerate through indulgence, to exhibit mam 
 striking specimens of physical beauty. The face is generally 
 fine, but the body is apt to be lank, and with imperfect muscu 
 lar development. The best forms I saw in the baths were 
 those of laborers, who, with a good deal of rugged strength, 
 showed some grace and harmony of proportion. It may be 
 received as a general rule, that the physical development of 
 the European is superior to that of the Oriental, with the 
 exception of the Circassians and Georgians, whose beauty well 
 entitles them to the distinction of giving their name to our 
 race. 
 
 So far as female beauty is concerned, the Circassian womeD 
 have no superiors. They have preserved in their mountain 
 home the purity of the Grecian models, and still display the 
 perfect physical loveliness, whose type has descended to QS in 
 the Venus de Medici. The Frank who is addicted to wander- 
 ing about the streets of Oriental cities can hardly fail to be 
 favored with a sight of the faces of these beauties. More than 
 once it has happened to me, in meeting a veiled lady, sailing 
 along in her balloon-like feridjee, that she has allowed the veil 
 to drop by a skilful accident, as she passed, and has startled 
 me with the vision of her beauty, recalling the line of the Per- 
 sian poet : " Astonishment 1 is this the dawn of the glorious 
 sun, or is it the full moon ?" The Circassian face is a pure 
 oval ; the forehead is low and fair, " an excellent thing in 
 woman," and the skin of an ivory whiteness, except the faint 
 pink of the cheeks and the ripe, roseate stain of the lips. The 
 hair is dark, glossy, and luxuriant, exquisitely outlined on the 
 temples ; the eyebrows slightly arched, and drawn with a
 
 156 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 delicate pencil ; while lashes like "rays of darkness" shad* 
 the large, dark, humid orbs below them. The alabaster of the 
 face, so pure as scarcely to show the blue branching of the 
 veins on the temples, is lighted by those superb eyes 
 
 " Shining eyes, like antique jewels set in Parian statue-stone," 
 
 whose wells are so dark and deep, that you are cheated into 
 the belief that a glorious soul looks out of them. 
 
 Once, by an unforeseen chance, I beheld the Circassian form 
 in its most perfect development. I was on board an Austrian 
 steamer in the harbor of Smyrna, when the harem of a Turk- 
 ish pasha came out in a boat to embark for Alexandria. The 
 sea was rather rough, and nearly all the officers of the steamer 
 were ashore. There were six veiled and swaddled women, with 
 a black eunuch as guard, in the boat, which lay tossing for some 
 time at the foot of the gangway ladder, before the frightened 
 passengers could summon courage to step out. At last tin 
 youngest of them a Circassian girl of not more than fifteen 
 or sixteen years of age ventured upon the ladder, clasping the 
 hand-rail with one hand, while with the other she held together 
 the folds of her cumbrous feridjee. I was standing in the 
 gangway, watching her, when a slight lurch of the steamer 
 caused her to loose her hold of the garment, which, fastened 
 at the neck, was blown back from her shoulders, leaving her 
 body screened but by a single robe of light, gauzy silk. 
 Through this, the marble whiteness of her skin, the roundness, 
 the glorious symmetry of her form, flashed upon me, as a vision 
 of Aphrodite, seen 
 
 "Through leagues of shimmering water, like a star."
 
 THK IIL'MAN BODY. 151 
 
 It was but ft momentary glimpse ; yet that moment convinced 
 me that forms of Phidiau perfection are still nurtured in the 
 vales of Caucasus. 
 
 The necessary disguise of dress hides from us much of the 
 beauty and dignity of Humanity. I have seen men who 
 appeared heroic in the freedom of nakedness, shrink almost into 
 absolute vulgarity, when clothed. The soul not only sits al 
 the windows of the eyes, and hangs upon the gateway of the 
 lips ; she speaks as well in the intricate, yet harmonious lines 
 of the body, and the ever-varying play of the limbs. Look at 
 the torso of Ilioneus, the sou of Niobe, and see what an agony 
 of terror and supplication cries out from that headless and 
 limbless trunk ! Decapitate Laocoon, and his knotted muscles 
 will still express the same dreadful suffering and resistance. 
 Xone knew this better than the ancient sculptors ; and hence 
 it was that we find many of their statues of distinguished men 
 wholly or partly undraped. Such a view of Art would be 
 considered transcendental now-a-days, when our dress, our cos- 
 tumes, and our modes of speech either ignore the existence of 
 our bodies, or treat them with little of that reverence which is 
 their due. 
 
 But, while we have been thinking these thoughts, the 
 attendant has been waiting to give us a final plunge into the 
 seething tank. Again we slide down to the eyes in the fluid 
 heat, which wraps us closely about until we tingle with exqui- 
 site hot shiverings. Now comes the graceful boy, with clean, 
 tool, lavendered napkins, which he folds around our waist and 
 wraps softly about the head. The pattens are put upon oui 
 feet, and the brown arm steadies us geutly through the sweat- 
 ing-room and ante-chamber into the outer hall, where we mount
 
 158 THE LANDS OF TH SARACEN. 
 
 to our couch. We sink gently upon the cool linen, and the 
 boy covers us with a perfumed sheet. Then, kneeling beside 
 the couch, he presses the folds of the sheet around us, that it 
 may absorb the lingering moisture and the limpid perspiration 
 .->hed by the departing heat. As fast as the linen becomes 
 damp, he replaces it with fresh, pressing the folds about us as 
 tecderly as a mother arranges the drapery of her sleeping 
 babe ; for we, though of the stature of a man, are now infan- 
 tile in our helpless happiness. Then he takes our passive 
 hand and warms its palm by the soft friction of his own ; 
 after which, moving to the end of the conch, he lifts our 
 feet upon his lap, and repeats the friction upon their soles, 
 until the blood comes back to the surface of the body with a 
 misty glow, like that which steeps the clouds of a summer 
 afternoon. 
 
 We have but one more process to undergo, and the attend- 
 ant already stands at the head of our couch. This is the 
 course of passive gymnastics, which excites so much alarm and 
 resistance in the ignorant Franks. It is only resistance that 
 is dangerous, completely neutralizing the enjoyment of the pro- 
 cess. Give yourself with a blind submission into the arms of 
 the brown Fate, and he will lead you to new chambers of 
 delight. He lifts us to a sitting posture, places himself behind 
 as, and folds his arms around our body, alternately tightening 
 ind relaxing his clasp, as if to test the elasticity of the ribs, 
 fhen seizing one arm, he draws it across the opposite shoulder, 
 until the joint cracks like a percussion-cap. The shoulder- 
 blades, the elbows, the wrists, and the finger-joints are all made 
 to fire off their muffled volleys ; and then, placing one kne 
 between our shoulders, and clasping bo'.h hands upon our fore
 
 THE BATH. 159 
 
 bead, he draws our head back until we feel a great snap of tlit 
 vertebral column. Now he descends to the hip-joints, kneeSj 
 ankles, and feet, forcing each and all to discharge a salvo dt 
 joie. The slight languor left from the bath is gone, and an 
 airy, delicate exhilaration, befitting the winged Mercury, takes 
 its place. 
 
 The boy, kneeling, presents us with ajinjan of foamy coffee, 
 followed by a glass of sherbet cooled with the snows of Leba- 
 non. He presently returns with a narghileh, which we smoke 
 by the effortless inhalation of the lungs. Thus we lie in per- 
 fect repose, soothed by the fragrant weed, and idly watching 
 the silent Orientals, who are undressing for the bath or reposing 
 like ourselves. Through the arched entrance, we see a picture 
 of the bazaars : a shadowy painting of merchants seated amid 
 their silks and spices, dotted here and there with golden drops 
 and splashes of sunshine, which have trickled through the roof. 
 The scene paints itself upon our eyes, yet wakes no slightest 
 stir of thought. The brain is a becalmed sea, without a ripple 
 on its shores. Mind and body are drowned in delicious rest ; 
 and we no longer remember what we are. We only know that 
 there is an Existence somewhere in the air, and that wherever 
 it is, and whatever it may be, it is happy. 
 
 More and moro dim grows the picture. The colors fade and 
 blend into each other, and finally merge into a bed of rosy 
 clouds, flooded with the radiance of some unseen sun. Gentlier 
 than "tired eyelids upon tired eyes," sleep lies upon our 
 senses : a half-conscious sleep, wherein we know that we behold 
 light and inhale fragrance. As gently, the clouds dissipate 
 into air, and we are born again into the world. The Bath is 
 at an end. We arise and put on our garments, and walk fort!
 
 160 THE LANDS OF THE 8ARACEH. 
 
 into the suuny streets of Damascus. Bat as we go homewards. 
 we involuntarily look down to see whether we are really tread- 
 ing upon the earth, wondering, perhaps, that we should be 
 content to do so, when it would be so easy to soar above th* 
 house-tops.
 
 DEPASTURE iBOM DAMASCUS 161 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 BAALBEO AND LEBANON. 
 
 Departure from Damascus The Fountains of the Pharpar Puss of the Anti-Lebanoo- 
 Adventure with the Druses The Range of Lebanon Tlie Demon of Hash seal 
 departs Impressions of Baalbec The Temple of the Sun Titanic Masonry Th 
 Rained Mosque Camp on Lebanon Rascality of the Guide The Summit of Lebanon 
 The Sacred Cedars The Christians of Lebanon An Afternooa in Eden Ragged 
 Travel We Reach the Coast Return to Beyrout 
 
 " Peer and Baalim 
 Forsake their temples dim." 
 
 MILTOM. 
 
 u The cedars wave on Lebanon, 
 But Judah's statelier maids are gone." 
 
 ML 
 
 BBTROUT, Thursday, May 27, 18W. 
 
 AFTER a stay of eight days in Damascus, we called our men, 
 Dervish and Mustapha, again into requisition, loaded our 
 enthusiastic mules, and mounted our despairing horses. There 
 were two other parties on the way to Baalbec an English 
 gentleman and lady, and a solitary Englishman, so that our 
 united forces made an imposing caravan. There is always a 
 custom-house examination, not on entering, but on issuing from 
 an Oriental city, but travellers can avoid it by procuring the 
 company of a Consular Janissary as far as the gate. Mr. 
 Wood, the British Consul, lent us one of his officers for the
 
 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 occasion, whom we found waiting, outside of the wall, to receive 
 his private fee for the service. We mounted the long, barren 
 hill west of the plain, and at the summit, netr the tomb of a 
 Moslem shekh, turned to take a last long lock at the bowery 
 plain, and the minarets of the city, glittering through the blue 
 morning vapor. 
 
 A few paces further on the rocky road, a different scene 
 presented itself to us. There lay, to the westward, a long 
 stretch of naked yellow mountains, basking in the hot glare ol 
 the sun, and through the centre, deep down in the heart of the 
 arid landscape, a winding line of living green showed the course 
 of the Barrada. We followed the river, until the path reached 
 an impassable gorge, which occasioned a detour of two or 
 three hours. We then descended to the bed of the dell, where 
 the vegetation, owing to the radiated heat from the mountains 
 and the fertilizing stimulus of the water below, was even richer 
 than on the plain of Damascus. The trees were plethoric with 
 an overplus of life. The boughs of the mulberries were 
 weighed down with the burden of the leaves ; pomegranates 
 were in a violent eruption of blossoms ; and the foliage of the 
 fig and poplar was of so deep a hue that it shone black in the 
 sun. 
 
 Passing through a gateway of rock, so narrow that we were 
 often obliged to ride in the bed of the stream, we reached a 
 little meadow, beyond which was a small hamlet, almost hidden 
 hi the leaves. Here the mountains again approached each 
 Other, and from the side of that on the right hand, the maiii 
 body of the Barrada, or Pharpar, gushed forth in one foil 
 stream. The fountain is nearly double the volume of that of 
 the Jordan at Bamas, and much more beautiful. The foumla
 
 THE FOUNTAINS OF THE PHARPAB. 16c 
 
 tions of an ancient building, probably a temple, overhang it, 
 and tall poplars and sycamores cover it with impenetrable 
 ehade. From the low aperture, where it bursts into the light 
 its waters, white with foam, bound away flashing in the chance 
 rays of sunshine, until they are lost to sight in the dense, dark 
 foliage. We sat an hour on the ruined walls, listening to the 
 roar and rush of the flood, and enjoying the shade of the wal- 
 nuts and sycamores. Soon after leaving, our path crossed a 
 small stream, which comes down to the Barrada from the upper 
 valleys of the Anti-Lebanon, and entered a wild pass, faced 
 with cliffs of perpendicular rock. An old bridge, of one arch, 
 spanned the chasm, out of which we climbed to a tract of high 
 meadow laud. In the pass there were some fragments of 
 auiiect columns, traces of an aqueduct, and inscriptions on the 
 rocks, among which Mr. H. found the name of Antoninus 
 The place is not mentioned in any book of travel I have seen, as 
 it is not on the usual road from Damascus to Baalbec. 
 
 As we were emerging from the pass, we saw a company of 
 twelve armed men seated in the grass, near the roadside. 
 They were wild-looking characters, and eyed us somewhat 
 sharply as we passed. We greeted them with the usual 
 " salaam aleikoom !" which they did not return. The same 
 evening, as we encamped at the village of Zebdeni, about three 
 hours further up the valley, we were startled by a great noise 
 and outcry, with the firing of pistols. It happened, as we 
 learned on inquiring the cause of all this confusion, that the 
 men we saw in the pass were rebel Druses, who were then 
 lying in wait for the Shekh of Zebdeni, whom, with his son, 
 they had taken captive soon after we passed. The news had 
 by some means b n conveyed to the village, and a compai y
 
 154 THE LANDS OF THE SAKACKN. 
 
 of about two hundred persons was then marching out to the 
 rescue. The noise they made was probably to give the Druses 
 intimation of their coming, and thus i void a fight. I do not 
 believe that any of the mountaineers of Lebanon would will- 
 ingly take part against the Druses, who, in fact, are not 
 fighting so much against the institution of the conscription 
 law, as its abuse. The law ordains that the conscript shall 
 eerv for five years ; but since its establishment, as I have 
 been informed, there has not been a single instance of dis- 
 charge. It amounts, therefore, to lifelong servitude, and there 
 is little wonder that these independent sons of the mountains, 
 as well as the tribes inhabiting the Syrian Desert, should rebel 
 rather than submit. 
 
 The next day, we crossed a pass in the Anti-Lebanon beyond 
 Zebdeni, descended a beautiful valley on the western side, 
 under a ridge which was still dotted with patches of snow, 
 and after travelling for some hours over a wide, barren height, 
 the last of the range, saw below us the plain of Baalbec. The 
 grand ridge of Lebanon opposite, crowned with glittering 
 fields of snow, shone out clearly through the pure air, and the 
 hoary head of Hermon, far in the south, lost something of its 
 grandeur by the comparison. Though there is a " divide," or 
 watershed, between Husbeiya, at the foot of Mount Hermon, 
 and Baalbec, whose springs join the Orontes, which flowa 
 northward to Antioch, the great natural separation of the two 
 chains continues unbroken to the Gulf of Akaba, in the Red 
 Sea, A little beyond Baalbec, the Anti-Lebanon terminates, 
 sinking into the Syrian plain, while the Lebanon, though itl 
 uame and general features are lost, about twenty miles furthei 
 to the north is succeeded by other ranges, which, thougb
 
 THE DEMON OF HASHEESH DEPARTS 166 
 
 broken at intervals, form a regular series, connecting with th 
 Taurus, in Asia Minor. 
 
 On leaving Damascus, the Demon of Hasheesh still main- 
 tained a partial control over me. I was weak in body and at 
 times confused in my perceptions, wandering away from the 
 scenes about me to some unknown sphere beyond the moon. 
 But the healing balm of my sleep at Zebdeni, and the purity 
 of the morning air among the mountains, completed my cure. 
 As I rode along the valley, with the towering, snow-sprinkled 
 ridge of the Anti-Lebanon on my right, a cloudless heaven 
 above my head, and meads enamelled with the asphodel and 
 scarlet anemone stretching before me, I felt that the last 
 shadow had rolled away from my brain. My mind was now as 
 clear as that sky my heart as free and joyful as the elastic 
 morning air. The sun never shone so brightly to my eyes ; 
 the fair forms of Nature were never penetrated with so perfect 
 a spirit of beauty. I was again master of myself, and the 
 world glowed as if new-created in the light of my joy and gra- 
 titude. I thanked God, who had led me out of a darkness 
 more terrible than that of the Valley of the Shadow of Death, 
 and while my feet strayed among the flowery meadows of Leba- 
 non, my heart walked on the Delectable Hills of His Mercy. 
 
 By the middle of the afternoon, we reached Baalbec. The 
 distant view of the temple, on descending the last slope of the 
 Anti-Lebanon, is not calculated to raise one's expectations. 
 On the green plain at the foot of the mountain, you see a large 
 square platform of masonry, upon which stand six columns, the 
 body of the temple, and a quantity of ruined walls. As a 
 feature in the landscape, it has a fine effect, but yon find your 
 self pronouncing the speedy judgment, that " Baalbec. without
 
 166 THE LANDS OF THE SA-UCEN. 
 
 Lebanon, would be rather a poor show." Haying come to 
 this conclusion, you ride down the hill with comfortable feel- 
 ings of indifference. There are a number of quarries on the 
 left hand ; you glance at them with an expression which merely 
 says : "Ah ! I suppose they got the stones here," and so you 
 saunter on, cross a little stream that flows down from the 
 modern village, pass a mill, return the stare of the quaint 
 Arab miller who comes to the door to see you, and your horse 
 is climbing a difficult path among the broken columns and 
 friezes, before you think it worth while to lift your eyes to the 
 pile above you. Now re-assert your judgment, if you dare ! 
 This is Baalbec : what have you to say ? Nothing ; but you 
 amazedly measure the torsos of great columns which lie piled 
 across one another in magnificent wreck ; vast pieces which 
 have dropped from the entablature, beautiful Corinthian capi 
 tals, bereft of the last graceful curves of their acanthus leaves, 
 and blocks whose edges are so worn away that they resemble 
 enormous natural boulders left by the Deluge, till at last you 
 look up to the six glorious pillars, towering nigh a hundred feet 
 above your head, and there is a sensation in your brain which 
 would be a shout, if you could give it utterance, of faultless 
 symmetry and majesty, such as no conception of yours and nc 
 other creation of art, can surpass. 
 
 I know of nothing so beautiful in all remains of ancient Art 
 as these six columns, except the colonnade of the Memuonium, 
 at Thebes, which is of much smaller proportions. From every 
 position, and with all lights of the day or night, they art 
 equally perfect, and carry your eyes continually away from the 
 peristyle of the smaller temple, which is better preserved, and 
 from the exquisite architecture of the outer courts and puvi
 
 THE TEMPLES OF BAALBEC. 167 
 
 lions. The two temples of Baalbec stand on an artificial plat 
 form of masonry, a thousand feet in length, and from fifteen to 
 thirty feet (according to the depression of the soil) in height 
 The larger one, which is supposed to have been a Pantheon, 
 occupies the whole length of this platform. The entrance wa? 
 at the north, by a grand flight of steps, now broken away, 
 between two lofty and elegant pavilions which are still nearly 
 entire. Then followed a spacious hexagonal court, and three 
 grand halls, parts of which, with niches for statues, adorned 
 with cornices and pediments of elaborate design, still remain 
 entire to the roof. This magnificent series of chambers was 
 terminated at the southern extremity of the platform by the 
 main temple, which had originally twenty columns on a side, 
 similar to the six now standing. 
 
 The Temple of the Sun stands on a smaller and lower plat- 
 form, which appears to have been subsequently added to the 
 greater one. The cella, or bod^ of the temple, is complete 
 except the roof, and of the colonnade surrounding it, nearly 
 one-half of its pillars are still standing, upholding the frieze, 
 entablature, and cornice, which altogether form probably the 
 most ornate specimen of the Corinthian order of architecture 
 now extant. Only four pillars of the superb -portico remain, 
 and the Saracens have nearly ruined these by building a sort 
 of watch-tower upon the architrave. The same unscrupulous 
 race completely shut up the portal of the temple with a blank 
 wall, formed of the fragments they had hurled down, and one 
 is obliged to creep through a narrow hole in order to reach 
 the interior. Here the original doorway faces you and I 
 know not how to describe the wonderful design of its elaborate 
 sculptured mouldings and cornices. The genius of Greek ar<
 
 168 THE LANDS OK THE SARACEN. 
 
 seema to have exhausted itself in inventing ornaments, which 
 while they should heighten the gorgeous effect of the work, 
 must yet harmonize with the grand design of the temple. The 
 enormous keystone over the entrance has slipped down, no 
 doubt from the shock of an earthquake, and hangs within six 
 inches of the bottom of the two blocks which uphold it on 
 either side. When it falls, the whole entablature of the portal 
 will be destroyed. On its lower side is an eagle with outspread 
 wings, and on the side-stoues a genius with garlands of flowers, 
 exquisitely sculptured in bas relief. Hidden among the wreaths 
 of vines which adorn the jambs are the laughing heads of 
 fauns. This portal was a continual study to me, every visit 
 revealing new refinements of ornament, which I had not before 
 observed. The interior of the temple, with its rich Corinthian 
 pilasters, its- niches for statues, surmounted by pediments ol 
 elegant design, and its elaborate cornice, needs little aid of the 
 imagination to restore it to its original perfection. Like that 
 of Dendera, in Egypt, the Temple of the Sun leaves upon the 
 mind an impression of completeness which makes you forget 
 far grander remains. 
 
 But the most wonderful thing at Baalbec is the foundation 
 platform upon 'which the temples stand. Even the colossal 
 fabrics of Ancient Egypt dwindle before this superhuman 
 masonry. The platform itself, 1,000 feet long, and averaging 
 twenty feet in height, suggests a vast mass of stones, but wheu 
 you come to examine the single blocks of which it is composed, 
 yoi are crushed with their incredible bulk. On the western 
 dide is a row of eleven foundation stones, each of which L 
 thirty-two feet in length, twelve in height, and ten in thickness, 
 forming a wall three hundred and fifty-two feet long 1 But
 
 TITANIC MASONRY. 169 
 
 while yon are walking on, thinking oi the art wnich cut and 
 raised these enormous blocks, you turn the southern corner and 
 come upon three stones, the united length of which is one Aon- 
 dred and eighty-seven feet two of them being sixty-two and 
 the other sixty-three feet in length ! There they are, cut with 
 faultless exactness, and so smoothly joined to each other, that 
 you cannot force a cambric needle into the crevice. There is one 
 joint so perfect that it can only be discerned by the minutest 
 search ; it is not even so perceptible as the junction of two 
 pieces of paper which have been pasted together. In the quarry, 
 there still lies a finished block, ready for transportation, which 
 is sixty-seven feet in length. The weight of one of these masses 
 has been reckoned at near 9,000 tons, yet they do not form the 
 base of the foundation, but are raised upon other courses, fifteen 
 feet from the ground. It is considered by some antiquarians 
 that they are of a date greatly anterior to that of the temples, 
 and were intended as the basement of a different edifice. 
 
 In the village of Baalbec there is a small circular Corinthian 
 temple of very elegant design. It is not more than thirty feet 
 in diameter, and may have been intended as a tomb. A spa- 
 cious mosque, now roofless and deserted, was constructed almost 
 entirely out of the remains of the temples. Adjoining the 
 court-yard and fountain are five rows of ancient pillars, forty 
 (the sacred number) in all, supporting light Saracenic arches. 
 Some of them are marble, with Corinthian capitals, and eighteen 
 are single shafts of red Egyptian granite. Beside the fountain 
 lies a small broken pillar of porphyry, of a dark violet hue, 
 and of so fine a grain that the stone has the soft rich lustra 
 of velvet. This fragment is the only thing I would carry awaj 
 if I had the power. 
 
 8
 
 170 TH LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 After a day's sojourn, we left Baalbec at noon, and took the 
 road for the Cedars, which lie on the other side of Lebanon, ir. 
 the direction of Tripoli. Our English fellow-travellers chose 
 the direct road to Beyrout. We crossed the plain in three 
 hours, to the village of Dayr el-Ahmar, and then commenced 
 ascending the lowest slopes of the great range, whose topmost 
 ridge, a dazzling parapet of snow, rose high above us. For 
 several hours, our path led up and down stony ridges, covered 
 with thickets of oak and holly, and with wild cherry, pear, and 
 oiive-trees. Just as the sun threw the shadows of the highest 
 Lebanon over us, we came upon a narrow, rocky glen at his 
 very base. Streams that still kept the color and the coolness 
 of the snow-fields from which they oozed, foamed over the 
 stones into the chasm at the bottom. The glen descended 
 into a mount^n basin, in which lay the lake of Yemouni, ?old 
 and green under the evening shadows. But just opposite us, 
 on a little shelf of soil, there was a rude mill, and a group of 
 superb walnut-trees, overhanging the brink of the largest tor- 
 rent. We had sent our baggage before us, and the men, with 
 an eye to the picturesque which I should not have suspected 
 in Arabs, had pitched our tents under those trees, where the 
 stream poured its snow-cold beakers beside us, and the tent- 
 door looked down on the plain of Baalbec and across to the 
 Anti-Lebanon. The miller and two or three peasants, who 
 were living in this lonely spot, were Christians. 
 
 The next morning we commenced ascending the Lebanon 
 We had slept just below the snow-line, for the long hollows 
 with which the ridge is cloven were filled up to within a short 
 distance of the glen, out of which \ve came. The path was 
 very steep ; continually ascending now around the barret
 
 A QUARRHL WITH THE GUIDE. 171 
 
 shoulder of the mountain, now up some ravine, where the hollj 
 and olive still flourished, and the wild rhubarb-plant spread it 
 large, succulent leaves over the soil. We had taken a guide, 
 the day before, at the village of Dayr el-Ahmar, but as the 
 way was plain before us, and he demanded an exorbitant sum, 
 we dismissed him. We had not climbed far, however, before 
 he returned, professing to be content with whatever we might 
 give him, and took us into another road, the first, he said, 
 being impracticable. Up and up we toiled, and the long 
 hollows of snow h&y below us, and the wind came cold from the 
 topmost peaks, which began to show near at band. But now 
 the road, as we had surmised, turned towards that we had first 
 taken, and on reaching the next height we saw the latter at a 
 short distance from us. It was not only a better, but a shorter 
 road, the rascal of a guide having led us out of it in order to 
 give the greater effect to his services. In order to return to 
 it, as was necessary, there were several dangerous snow-fields 
 to be passed. The angle of their descent was so great that a 
 single false step would have hurled our animals, baggage and 
 all, many hundred feet below. The snow was melting, and the 
 crust frozen over the streams below was so thin in places that 
 the animals broke through and sank to their bellies. 
 
 It were needless to state the number and character of the 
 anathemas bestowed upon the guide. The impassive Dervish 
 raved ; Mustapha stormed : Francois broke out in a frightful 
 eruption of Greek and Turkish oaths, and the two travellers, 
 though not (as I hope and believe) profanely inclined, could 
 not avoid using a few terse Saxon expressions. When the 
 general indignation had found vent, the men went to work, and 
 by taking each animal separately, succeeded, at imrainenl
 
 172 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 hazard, in getting them all over the snow. We then dismissed 
 the guide, who, far from being abashed by the discovery of his 
 trickery, had the impudence to follow us for some time, claim- 
 ing his pay. A few more steep pulls, over deep beds of snow 
 and patches of barren stone, and at length the summit ridge 
 a sharp, white wall, shining against the intense black-blue of 
 the zenith stood before us. We climbed a toilsome zig-zag 
 through the snow, hurried over the stones cumbering the top, 
 and all at once the mountains fell away, ridge below ridge, 
 gashed with tremendous chasms, whose bottoms were lost in 
 blue vapor, till the last heights, crowned with white Maronite 
 convents, hung above the sea, whose misty round bounded the 
 vision. I have seen many grander mountain views, but few so 
 sublimely rugged and broken in their features. The sides of 
 the ridges dropped off in all directions into sheer precipices, 
 and the few villages we could see were built like eagles' nests 
 on the brinks. In a little hollow at our feet was the sacred 
 Forest of Cedars, appearing like a patch of stunted junipers. 
 It is the highest speck of vegetation on Lebanon, and in wiutet 
 cannot be visited, on account of the snow. The summit on 
 which we stood was about nine thousand feet above the sea, 
 bat there were peaks on each side at least a thousand feet 
 higher. 
 
 We descended by a very steep path, over occasional beds of 
 snow, and reached the Cedars in an hour and a half. Not 
 antil we were within a hundred yards of the trees, and below 
 their level, was I at all impressed with their size and venera- 
 ble aspect. But, once entered into the heart of the littlfl 
 wood, walking over its miniature hills and valleys, and breath 
 Ing the pure, balsamic exhalations of the trees, all the dirap
 
 THE CEDARS OF LEBANON. 178 
 
 poiutmeut rising to my miud was charmed away in an instant 
 There are about three hundred trees, in all, many of which aw 
 of the last century's growth, but at least fifty of them would 
 be considered grand in any forest. The patriarchs are five in 
 number, an^ 1 are undoubtedly as old as the Christian Era, V 
 not the Age of Solomon. The cypresses in the Garden of 
 "Moutezuma, at Chapultepec, are even older and grander trees, 
 but they are as entire and shapely as ever, whereas these are 
 gnarled and twisted into wonderful forms by the storms of 
 twenty centuries, and shivered in some places by lightning. 
 The hoary father of them all, nine feet in diameter, stands in 
 the centre of the grove, on a little knoll, and spreads his pon- 
 derous arms, each a tree in itself, over she heads of the many 
 generations that have grown up below, as if giving his last 
 benediction before decay. He is scarred less with storm and 
 lightning, than with the knives of travellers, and the marble 
 crags of Lebanon do not more firmly retain their inscriptions 
 than his stony trunk. Dates of the last century are abundant, 
 and I recollect a tablet inscribed: " Souard, 1670," around 
 which the newer wood has grown to the height of three or four 
 inches. The seclusion of the grove, shut in by peaks of barren 
 snow, is complete. Only the voice of the nightingale, singing 
 here by daylight in the solemn shadows, breaks the silence 
 The Maronite monk, who has charge of a little stone chapel 
 standing in the midst, moves about like a shade, and, not before 
 you are ready to leave, brings his book for you to register your 
 name therein. I was surprised to find how few of the crowd 
 that annually overrun Syria reach the Cedars, which, after 
 Baalbec, are the finest remains of artiquity in the whole 
 country.
 
 1 74 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 After a stay of three hours, we rode on to Eden, whither om 
 men had already gone with the baggage. Our read led along 
 the brink of a tremendous gorge, a thousand feet deep, the 
 bottom of which was only accessible here and there by hazard* 
 ous foot-oaths. On either side, a long shelf of cultivated land 
 sloped down to the top, and the mountain streams, after water- 
 ing a multitude of orchards and grain-fields, tumbled over the 
 cliffs in long, sparkling cascades, to join the roaring flood 
 below. This is the Christian region of Lebanon, inhabited 
 almost wholly by Maronites, who still retain a portion of their 
 former independence, and are the most thrifty, industrious, 
 honest,_and happy people in Syria. Their villages are not con- 
 crete masses of picturesque filth, as are those of the Moslems, 
 bu\. are loosely scattered among orchards of mulberry, poplar 
 and vine, washed by fresh rills, and have an air of comparative 
 neatness and comfort. Each has its two or three chapels, 
 with their little belfries, which toll the hours of prayer. Sad 
 and poetic as is the call from the minaret, it never touched me 
 as when I heard the sweet tongues of those Christian bells, 
 chiming vespers far and near on the sides of Lebanon. 
 
 Eden merits its name. It is a mountain paradise, inhabited 
 by people so kind and simple-hearted, that assuredly no venge- 
 ful angel will ever drive them out with his flaming sword. It 
 bangs above the gorge, which is here nearly two thousand ftet 
 deep, and overlooks a grand wilderness of mountain-piles, 
 crowded on and over each other, from the sea that gleams 
 bdow, to the topmost heights that keep off the nuoruing sun. 
 The houses are all built of hewn stone, and grouped in clusters 
 under the shade of large walnut-trees. In walking among 
 Lhem, we received kind greetings everywhere, and every om
 
 A\ AFTERNOON IN EDEN. 175 
 
 who wa,s .H-ated rose and remained standing as we passed 
 The women are beauthul, with sprightly, intelligent faces, quite 
 different from the stupid Mahometan females. 
 
 The children were charming creatures, and some ol the giri; 
 of ten or twelve years were lovely as angels. They came 
 timidly to our tent (which the men had pitched as before, 
 under two superb trees, beside a fountain), and offered us roses 
 and branches of fragrant white jasmine. They expected some 
 return, of course, but did not ask it, and the delicate grace 
 with which the offering was made was beyond all pay. It was 
 Sunday, and the men and boys, having nothing better to do, all 
 came to see and talk with us. I shall not soon forget the circle 
 of gay and laughing villagers, in which we sat that evening, 
 while the dark purple shadows gradually filled up the gorges, 
 and broad golden lights poured over the shoulders of the hills. 
 The men had much sport in inducing the smaller boys to come 
 up and salute us. There was one whom they called "the 
 Consul," who eluded them for some time, but was finally caught 
 and placed in the ring before us. " Peace be with you, 
 Consul," I said, making him a profound inclination, " may your 
 days be propitious ! may your shadow be increased !" but I 
 then saw, from the vacant expression on the boy's face, that he 
 was one of those harmless, witless creatures, whom yet one 
 cannot quite call idiots. "He is an unfortunate; he know? 
 nothing ; he has no protector but God," said the men, crossing 
 themselves devoutly. The boy took off his cap, crept up and 
 kissed my hand, as I gave him some money, which he no sooner 
 grasped, than he sprang up like a startled gazelle, and was ou< 
 of sight in an instant. 
 
 In descending from Eden to the sea-coast, we were obliged
 
 176 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 to cross the great gorge of which I spoke. Further down, it* 
 sides are less steep, and clothed even to the very bottom with 
 magnificent orchards of mulberry, fig, olive, orange, and pome- 
 granate trees. We were three hours in reaching the opposite 
 side, although the breadth across the top is not more than a 
 mile. The path was exceedingly perilous ; we walked down, 
 leading our horses, and once were obliged to unload our 
 mules to get them past a tree, which would have forced 
 them off the brink of a chasm several hundred feet deep. 
 The view from the bottom was wonderful. We were shut 
 in by steeps of foliage and blossoms from two to three 
 thousand feet high, broken by crags of white marble, and 
 towering almost precipitously to the very clouds. I doubt if 
 Melville saw anything grander in the tropical gorges of 
 Typee. After reaching the other side, we had still a journey 
 of eight hours to the sea, through a wild and broken, yet 
 highly cultivated country. 
 
 Beyrout was now thirteen hours distant, but by making a 
 forced march we reached it in a day, travelling along *he 
 shore, past the towns of Jebeil, the ancient Byblus, and 
 Joonieh. The hills about Jebeil produce the celebrated 
 tobacco known in Egypt as the Jebelee, or " mountain " tobacco, 
 which is even superior to the Latakiyeh. 
 
 Near Beyrout, the mulberry and olive are in the ascendant 
 The latter tree bears the finest fruit in all the Levant, 
 and might drive all other oils out of the market, if 
 any one had enterprise enough to erect proper manufac- 
 tories. Instead of this the oil of the country is badly 
 prepared, rancid from the skins in which it is kept, and thfl 
 wealthy natives import from France and Italy in preference tt
 
 SYRIAN' (TLTIVAT10X. Iff 
 
 using it. In the bottoms near the sea, I saw several fields of 
 the taro-plant, the cultivation of which I had supposed was 
 exclusively confined to the Islands of the Pacific. There 
 would be no end to the wealth of Syria were the country 
 in proper hands.
 
 178 THE LANDS <>K T11K SAKAt'KN. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 PI I'KS AND COFK K K. 
 
 the kind nymph to tlacchus born 
 
 I'.y Morpheus' d.inghter, she that seems 
 
 Gifted upon her natal morn 
 
 By him with fire, by her with dreams 
 
 Nicotia, dearer to the Muse 
 
 Than all the grape's bewildering juice." LOWELL. 
 
 ly painting the picture of an Oriental, the pipe and the coffee 
 cup are indispensable accessories. There is scarce a Turk, or 
 Arab, or Persian unless he be a Dervish of peculiar sanctity 
 but breathes his daily incense to the milder Bacchus of the 
 moderns. The custom has become so thoroughly naturalized 
 in the East, that we are apt to forget its comparatively recent 
 introduction, and to wonder that no mentioh is made of the 
 pipe in the Arabian Nights. The practice of smoking harmo- 
 nizes so thoroughly with the character of Oriental life, that it 
 is difficult for us to imagine a time when it never existed. It 
 has become a part of that supreme patience, that wonderful 
 repose, which forms so strong a contrast to the over-active life 
 of the New World the enjoyment of which no one can taste, 
 to whom the pipe is not familiar Howl, ye Reforme'rs ! but I 
 solemnly declare unto you, that he who travels through the 
 East without smoking, does not know the East. 
 It is strange that our Continent, where the meaning of Real
 
 THE PIPE. 17 fc 
 
 is uuknown, should have given to the world this great agent ol 
 Rest. There is nothing more remarkable in history than the 
 colonization of Tobacco over the whole Earth. Xot three 
 centuries have elapsed since knightly Raleigh puffed its furaef 
 into the astonished eyes of Spenser and Shakspeare ; and now, 
 find me any corner of the world, from Nova Zembla to the 
 Mountains of the Moon, where the use of the plant is unknown ! 
 Tarshish (if India was Tarshish) is less distinguished by its 
 " apes, ivory, and peacocks," than by its hookahs ; the valleys 
 of Luzon, beyond Ternate and Tidore, send us more cheroots 
 than spices ; the Gardens of Shiraz produce more velvety 
 toombek than roses, and the only fountains which bubble in 
 Samarcand are those of the narghilehs : Lebanon is no longer 
 " excellent with the Cedais," as in the days of Solomon, but 
 most excellent with its fields of Jebelee and Latakiyeh. On 
 the unvisited plains of Central Africa, the table-lands of Tar- 
 tary, and in the valleys of Japan, the wonderful plant has found 
 a home. The naked negro, " panting at the Line," inhales it 
 under the palms, and the Lapp and Samoyed on the shores of 
 the Frozen Sea. 
 
 It is idle for those who object to the use of Tobacco to 
 attribute these phenomena wholly to a perverted taste. The 
 fact that the custom was at once adopted by all the races of 
 men, whatever their geographical position and degree of civili- 
 zation, proves that there must be a reason for it in the physical 
 constitution of man. Its effect, when habitually used, is 
 slightly narcotic and sedative, not stimulating or if so, a' 
 times, it stimulates only the imagination and the social facul 
 ties It lulls to sleep the combative and destructive propensi- 
 ties, and hence so far as a material agent may operate i>
 
 180 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 exercises a humanizing and refining influence. A profound 
 student of Man, whose name is well known to the world, once 
 informed me that he saw in the eagerness with which savage 
 tribes adopt the use of Tobacco, a spontaneous movement of 
 Nature towards Civilization. 
 
 T will not pursue these speculations further, for the narghileh 
 (bubbling softly at my elbow, as I write) is the promoter of 
 repose and the begetter of agreeable reverie. As I inhale its 
 cool, fragrant breath, and partly yield myself to ;he sensation 
 of healthy rest which wraps my limbs as with a velvet mantle, 
 I marvel how the poets and artists and scholars of olden times 
 nursed those dreams which the world calls indolence, but which 
 are the seeds that germinate into great achievements. How did 
 Plato philosophize without the pipe ? How did gray Homer, 
 sitting on the temple-steps in the Grecian twilights, drive 
 from his heart the bitterness of beggary and blindness ? How 
 did Phidias charm the Cerberus of his animal nature to sleep, 
 while his soul entered the Elysian Fields and beheld the forms 
 of heroes ? For, in the higher world of Art, Body and Soul 
 are sworn enemies, and the pipe holds an opiate more potent 
 than all the drowsy syrups of the East, to drug the former 
 into submission. Milton knew this, as he smoked his evening 
 pipe at Chalfont, wandering, the w!dle, among the palms of 
 Paradise. 
 
 But it is also our loss, that Tobacco was unknown to th* 
 Greeks. They would else have given us, in verse and in mar- 
 ble, another divinity in their glorious PantLeon a god les* 
 drowsy than Morpheus and Somnus, less riotous than Bacchus, 
 less radial t than Apollo, but with something of the spirit of 
 each : a figure, beautiful with youth, every muscle in perfecl
 
 THE PIPE. 181 
 
 repose, and the vague expression of dreams in his half-closed 
 eyes. His temple would have been built in a grove of South 
 ern pines, on the borders of a land-locked gulf, sheltered from 
 the surges that buffet without, where service would have been 
 rendered him in the late hours of the afternoon, or in the even- 
 ing twilight. From his oracular tripod words of wisdom would 
 have been spoken, and the fanes of Delphi and Dodona would 
 have been deserted for his. 
 
 Oh, non-smoking friends, who read these lines with pain and 
 incredulity and you, ladies, who turn pale at the thought of a 
 pipe let me tell you that you are familiar only with the vul- 
 gar form of tobacco, and have never passed between the wind 
 and its gentility. The word conveys no idea to you but that 
 of " long nines," and pig-tail, and cavendish. Forget these for 
 a moment, and look upon this dark-brown cake of dried leaves 
 and blossoms, which exhales an odor of pressed flowers. These 
 are the tender tops of the Jebelee, plucked as the buds begin tc 
 expand, and carefully dried in the shade. In order to be used, 
 it is moistened with rose-scented water, and cut to the neces- 
 sary degree of fineness. The test of true Jebelee is, that it 
 burns with a slow, hidden fire, like tinder, and causes no irrita- 
 tion to the eye when Held under it. The smoke, drawn through 
 a long cherry-stick pipe and amber mouth-piece, is pure, cool, 
 and sweet, with an aromatic flavor, which is very pleasant in 
 the mouth. It excites no salivation, and leaves behind it nc 
 unpleasant, stale odor. 
 
 The narghileh (still bubbling beside me) is an institution 
 mown only in the East. It requires a peculiar kind ol 
 tobacco, which grows to perfection in the southern province! 
 f Persia The smoke, after posing through water (rose
 
 18 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 fluvored, if you choose), is inhaled through a long, dexible 
 tube directly into the lungs. It occasions not the slightest 
 irritation or oppression, but in a few minutes produces a 
 delicious sense of rest, which is felt even in the finger-ends. 
 Th pure physical sensation of rest is one of strength also, and 
 of perfect contentment. Many an impatient thought, many an 
 .uury word, have I avoided by a resort to the pipe. Among 
 cur aborigines the pipe was the emblem of Peace, and J 
 strongly recommend the Peace Society to print their tract* 
 upon papers of smoking tobacco (Turkish, if possible), and 
 distribute pipes with them. 
 
 I know of nothing more refreshing, after the fatigue of a long 
 day's journey, than a well-prepared narghileh. That slight 
 feverish aud excitable feeling which is the result of fatigue 
 yields at once to its potency. The blood loses its heat and the 
 pulse its rapidity ; the muscles relax, the nerves are soothed 
 iuto quiet, and the frame passes into a condition similar to 
 sleep, except that the mind is awake and active. By the time 
 one has finished his pipe, he is refreshed for the remainder of 
 the day, and his nightly sleep is sound and healthy. Such are 
 some of the physical effects of the pipe, in Eastern lands. 
 Morally and psychologically, it works still greater transforma- 
 tions ; but to describe them now, with the mouth-piece at my 
 lips, would require au active self- consciousness which the habit 
 does not allow. 
 
 A servant enters with a steamy cup of coffee, seated in a 
 silver zerf, or cup-holder. His thumb aud fore-finger are 
 clasped firmly upon the bottom of the zerf, which 1 inclose 
 near the top with my own thumb and finger, so that the trans 
 (Vr is accomplished without his hand having touched
 
 COFFEE. 183 
 
 A.fter draining the thick brcwu liquid, which mtst bt doiu 
 with due deliberation and a pause of satisfaction between each 
 sip, I return the zerf, holding it in the middle, while the atten- 
 dant places a palm of each hand upon the top and bottom and 
 carries it off without contact. The beverage is made of the 
 berries of Mocha, slightly roasted, pulverized in a mortar, and 
 heated to a foam, without the addition of cream or sugar. 
 Sometimes, however, it is flavored with the extract of roses or 
 violets. When skilfully made, each cup is prepared separately, 
 and the quantity of water and coffee carefully measured. 
 
 Coffee is a true child of the East, and its original home was 
 among the hills of Yemen, the Arabia Felix of the ancients. 
 Fortunately for Mussulmeu, its use was unknown in the days 
 of Mahomet, or it would probably have fallen under the same 
 prohibition as wine. The word Kahweh (whence cafe) is an 
 old Arabic term for wine. The discovery of the properties oi 
 coffee is attributed to a dervish, who, for some misdemeanor, 
 was carried into the mountains of Yemen by his brethren and 
 there left to perish by starvation. In order' to appease the 
 pangs of hunger he gathered the ripe berries from the wild 
 coffee-trees, roasted and ate them. The nourishment they con- 
 tained, with water from the springs, sustained his life, and aftei 
 two or three months he returned in good condition to his 
 brethren, who considered his preservation as a miracle, and 
 2ver afterwards looked upon him as a pattern of holiness 1 . He 
 Caught the use of the miraculous fruit, and the demand for it 
 soon became so great as to render the cultivation of the tree 
 necessary. Jt was a long time, however, before coffee wan 
 introduced into Europe. As late as the beginning of the 
 seventeenth century, Sandys, the quaint old traveller, describes
 
 184 THK LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 the appearance and taste of the beverage, which he call* 
 44 Coflfa," and sagely asks : " Why not that black broth which 
 the Lacedemonians used ?" 
 
 On account of the excellence of the material, and the skilful 
 manner of its preparation, the Coffee of the East is the fiuest 
 in the woild. I have found it so grateful and refreshing a 
 drink, that I can readily pardon the pleasant exaggeration of 
 the Arabic poet, Abd-el Kader Anazari Djezeri Hanbali, the 
 son of Mahomet, who thus celebrates its virtues. After such 
 an exalted eulogy, my own praises would sound dull and tame ; 
 and I therefore resume my pipe, commending Abd-el Kader to 
 the reader. 
 
 14 Coffee 1 thou dispellest the cares of the great ; thon 
 bringest back those who wander from the paths of knowledge 
 Coffee is the beverage of the people of God, and the cordial 
 of his servants who thirst for wisdom. When coffee is infused 
 into the bowl, it exhales the odor of musk, and is of the color 
 of ink. The truth is not known except to the wise, who drink 
 it from the foaming coffee-cup. God has deprived fools of 
 coffee, who, with invincible obstinacy, condemn it as injurious. 
 
 " Coffee is our gold ; and in the place of its libations we are 
 in the enjoyment of the best and noblest society. Coffee is 
 even as innocent a drink as the purest milk, from which it U 
 distinguished only by its color. Tarry with thy coffee in the 
 place of its preparation, and the good God will hover over 
 thee and participate in his feast. There the graces of the 
 saloon, the luxury of life, the society of friends, ill furnish a 
 picture of the abode of happiness. 
 
 " Every care vanishes when the cup-bearer presents the deli- 
 cious chalice. It will circulate fleetlj through iuy veins, and
 
 TES PRAISK OF COFFKB 186 
 
 
 
 will not rankle there : if thou doubtest this, contemplate the 
 youth and beauty of those who drink it. Grief cannot exist 
 where it grows ; sorrow humbles itself in obedience before UP 
 powers. 
 
 " Coffee is the drink of God's people ; in it is health Let 
 this be the answer to those who doubt its qualities. In it we 
 will drown our adversities, and in its fire consume our sorrows 
 Whoever has <jnce seen the blissful chalice, will scorn the wine- 
 cup. Glorious drink I thy color is the seal of purity, and 
 i*eason proclaims it genuine. Drink with confidence, and regard 
 not the prattle of fools, who condemn without foundation."
 
 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 JOURNEY TO ANTIOCH AND ALEPPO. 
 
 of Plans Routes to Baghdad Asia Minor We sail from Beyrout YaehUnj 
 u the Syrian Coast Tartus and Latakiyeh The Coasts of Syria The Biy of Soe- 
 diah The Mouth of the Orontes Landing The Garden of Syria Ride to Anttocb 
 The Modern City The Plains of the Orontes Remains of the Greek Empire Th 
 Ancient Road The Plain of Keftin Approach to Aleppo. 
 
 " The chain is loosed, the sails are spread, 
 
 The living breath is fresh behind, 
 As, with dews and sunrise fed, 
 
 Comes the laughing morning wind." 
 
 SBKLLBT. 
 
 Aum>, Friday, June. 4, 1352. 
 
 A. TRAVELLER in the East, who has not unbounded time and an. 
 extensive fortune at his disposal, is never certain where and 
 how far he shall go, until his journey is finished. With but a 
 limited portion of both these necessaries, I have so far carried 
 out my original plan with scarcely a variation; but at present I 
 am obliged to make a material change of route. My farthest 
 East is here at Aleppo. A t Damascus, I was told by every- 
 body that it was too late in the season to visit either Baghdad 
 or Mosul, and that, on account of the terrible summer heats 
 and the fevers which prevail along the Tigris, it would be 
 imprudent to undertake it. Notwithstanding this, I should 
 probably have gone (being now so thoroughly acclimated that 
 I have nothing to fear from the heut), had I not met with a
 
 ROUTES TO BAGHDAD. 181 
 
 mend of Col. Rawlinson, the companion of Layard, and the 
 sharer in his discoveries at Nineveh. This gentleman, who 
 met Col. R. not long since in Constantinople, on his way tc 
 Baghdad (where he resides as British Consul), informed me 
 that since the departure of Mr. Layard from Mosul, the most 
 interesting excavations have been filled up, in order to preserve 
 the sculptures. Unless one was able to make a new exhuma- 
 tion, he would be by no means repaid for so long and arduous 
 a journey. The ruins of Nineveh are all below the surface 
 of the earth, and the little of them that is now left exposed, 
 is less complete and interesting than the specimens in the 
 British Museum. 
 
 There is a route from Damascus to Baghdad, across the 
 Desert, by way of Palmyra, but it is rarely travelled, even by 
 the natives, except when the caravans are sufficiently strong to 
 withstand the attacks of the Bedouins. The traveller is 
 obliged to go in Arab costume, to leave his baggage behind, 
 except a meagre scrip for the journey, and to pay from $300 to 
 $500 for the camels and escort. The more usual route is tc 
 come northward to this city, then cross to Mosul and descend 
 the Tigris a journey of four or five weeks. After weighing 
 ail the advantages and disadvantages of undertaking a tour of 
 such length as it would be necessary to make before reaching 
 Constantinople, I decided at Beyrout to give up the fascinating 
 ^fields of tra T el in Media, Assyria and Armenia, and take a 
 rather shorter and perhaps equally interesting route from 
 Aleppo to Constantinople, by way of Tarsus, Konia (Iconium), 
 and the ancient countries of Phrygia, Bithyuia, and Mysia 
 Hie interior of Asia Minor is even less known to us than th 
 Persian side of Asiatic Turkey, which has of late received
 
 188 THE LANDS OF THE SARA3BK. 
 
 more attention from travellers ; and, as I shall traverse it U 
 its whole length, from Syria tc the Bosphorus, I may find it 
 replete with " green fields and pastures new," which shall repay 
 me for relinquishing the first and more ambitious undertaking 
 At least, I have so much reason to be grateful for the uninter 
 rupted good health and good luck I have enjoyed during seven 
 months in Africa and the Orient, that I cannot be otherwise 
 than content with the prospect before me. 
 
 I left Beyrout on the night of the 28th of May, with Mr 
 Harrison, who has decided to keep me company as far as Con- 
 Btantinople. Francois, our classic dragoman, whose great 
 delight is to recite Homer by the sea-side, is retained for the 
 whole tour, as we have found no reason to doubt his honesty 
 or ability. Our first thought was to proceed to Aleppo by 
 land, by way of Horns and Hamah, whence there might be u 
 jhance of reaching Palmyra ; but as we found an opportunity 
 of engaging an American yacht for the voyage up the coast, 
 it was thought preferable to take her, and save time. She was 
 a neat little craft, called the "American Eagle," brought out by 
 Mr. Smith, our Consul at Beyrout. So, one fine moonlit night, 
 we slowly crept out of the harbor, and after returning a volley 
 of salutes from our friends at Demetri's Hotel, ran into the 
 heart of a thunder-storm, which poured down more rain than 
 all I had seen for eight months before. But our rai's, Assad 
 (the Lion), was worthy of his name, and had two good Chris- 
 tian sailors at his command, so we lay in the cramped little 
 cabin, and heard the floods washing our deck, without 
 fear. 
 
 In the morning, we were off Tripoli, which is even mon 
 deeply bnried than Beyrout in its orange and mulberry grovea
 
 THE COAST OF SYRIA. 185 
 
 and slowly wafted along the bold mountain-coast, in the after 
 noon reached Tartus, the Ancient Tortosa. A mile from short 
 is the rocky island of Aradus, entirely covered by a town 
 There were a dozen vessels lying in the harbor. The remain? 
 of a large fortress and ancient mole prove it to have been a 
 place of considerable importance. Tartus is a small old plac' 
 on the sea-shore not so large nor so important in aopearance 
 as its island-port. The country behind is green and hilly, 
 though but partially cultivated, and rises into Djebel Ansairi- 
 yeh, which divides the valley of the Orontes from the sea. It 
 is a lovely coast, especially under the flying lights and shadows 
 of such a breezy day as we had. The wind fell at sunset ; but 
 by the next morning, we had passed the tobacco-fields of Lata- 
 kiyeh, and were in sight- of the southern cape of the Bay of 
 Suediah. The mountains forming this cape culminate in a grand 
 conical peak, about 5,000 feet in height, called Djebel Okrab 
 At ten o'clock, wafted along by a slow wind, we turned the 
 point and entered the Bay of Suediah, formed by the embou- 
 chure of the River Orontes. The mountain headland of Akma 
 Dagh, forming the portal of the Gulf of Scanderoon, loomed 
 grandly in front of us across the bay ; and far beyond it, we 
 could just distinguish the coast of Karamania, the snow-capped 
 range of Taurus. 
 
 The Coasts of Syria might be divided, like those of Guinea, 
 according to the nature of their productions. The northern 
 division is bold and bare, yet flocks of sheep graze on the 
 slopes of its mountains ; and the inland plains behind them are 
 covered with orchards of pistachio-trees. Silk is cultivated in 
 the neighborhood of Suediah, but forms only a small portion 
 of the exports. This region may be called the Wool and Pi
 
 190 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 tachio Coast. Southward, from Latakiyeh to Tartas aud tha 
 northern limit of Lebanon, extends the Tobacco Coast, whose 
 undulating hills are now clothed with the pale-green leaves of 
 the renowned plant From Tripoli to Tyre, embracing all the 
 western slope of Lebanon, and the deep, rich valleys lying 
 between his knees, the mulberry predominates, and the land is 
 covered with the houses of thatch and matting which shelter 
 the busy worms. This is the Silk Coast. The palmy plains of 
 Jaffa, and beyond, until Syria meets the African sands between 
 Gaza and El-Arish, constitute the Orange Coast. The vine, 
 the olive, and the fig flourish everywhere. 
 
 We were all day getting up the bay, and it seemed as if we 
 should never pass Djebel Okrab, whose pointed top rose high 
 above a long belt of fleecy clouds that girdled his waist. At 
 sunset we made the mouth of the Oroutes. Our lion of a 
 Captain tried to run into the river, but the channel was very 
 narrow, and when within thres hundred yards of the shore the 
 yacht struck. We had all sail set, and had the wind been a 
 little stronger, we should have capsized in an instant. The lion 
 went manfully to work, and by dint of hard poling, shoved us 
 off, and came to anchor in deep water. Not until the danger 
 was past did he open his batteries on the unlucky helmsman, and 
 then the explosion of Arabic oaths was equal to a broadside 
 of twenty-four pounders. We lay all night rocking on the 
 swells, and the next morning, by firing- a number of signal guns, 
 brought out a boat, which took us off. We entertd the moutb 
 of the Orontes, and sailed nearly a mile between rich wheat 
 me"adows before reaching the landing-place of Suediah two 01 
 three uninhabited stone huts, with three or tour small Turkish 
 and a health officer. The town lies a mile or two inland
 
 THK GARDEN OF SYRIA. 19'i 
 
 soaiteied along the bill-side amid gardens so luxar.ant as 
 almost to conceal it from view. 
 
 This part of the coast is ignorant of travellers, and we wew 
 obliged to wait half a day before we could find a sufficient 
 number of horses to take us to Antioch, twenty miles distant. 
 When they came, they were solid farmers' horses, with the 
 rudest gear imaginable. I was obliged to mount astride of a 
 broad pack-saddle, with my legs suspended in coils of rope. 
 Leaving the meadows, we entered a lane of the wildest, rich 
 est and loveliest bloom and foliage. Our way was overhung 
 with hedges of pomegranate, myrtle, oleander, and white rose, 
 in blossom, and occasionally with quince, fig, and carob trees, 
 laced together with grape vines in fragrant bloom. Sometimes 
 this wilderness of color and odor met above our heads and 
 made a twilight ; then it opened into long, dazzling, sun- 
 bright vistas, where the hues of the oleander, pomegranate anu 
 white rose made the eye wink with their gorgeous profusion 
 The mountains we crossed were covered with thickets of myrtle, 
 mastic, daphne, and arbutus, and all the valleys and sloping 
 meads waved with fig, mulberry, and olive trees. Looking 
 towards the sea, the valley broadened out between mountain 
 ranges whose summits were lost in the clouds. Though the 
 soil was not so rich as in Palestine, the general aspect of the 
 country was much wilder and more luxuriant. 
 
 So, by this glorious lane, over the myrtled hills and down 
 into valleys, whose bed was one hue of rose from the blossom- 
 ing oleanders, we travelled for five hours, crossing the low 
 ranges of hills through which the Orontes forces his way to the 
 sea At last we reached a height overlooking the valley 01 
 the river, and saw in the east, at the foot of the mountain
 
 192 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 chain, the long lines of barracks built by Ibrahim Pasha foi 
 the defence of Antioeh. Behind them the ancient wall of the 
 city clomb the mountains, whose crest it followed to the last 
 j>eak of the chain. From the next hill we saw the city a 
 large extent of one-story houses with tiled roofs, surrounded 
 with gardens, aad half buried in the foliage of sycamores. It 
 extends from the River Orontes, which washes its walls, up the 
 slope of the mountain to the crags of gray rock which over- 
 hang it. We crossed the river by a massive old bridge, and 
 entered the town. Riding along the rills of filth which tra- 
 verse the streets, forming their central avenues, we passed 
 through several lines of bazaars to a large and dreary-looking 
 khan, the keeper of which gave us the best vacant chamber 
 a narrow place, full of fleas. 
 
 Antioeh presents not even a shadow of its former splendor. 
 Except the great walls, ten to fifteen miles in circuit, whicu 
 the Turks have done their best to destroy, every vestige of the 
 old city has disappeared. The houses are all of one story, on 
 account of earthquakes, from which Antioeh has suffered more, 
 than any other city in the world. At one time, during the 
 Middle Ages, it lost 120,000 inhabitants in one day. Its situ- 
 ation -is magnificent, and the modern town, notwithstanding its 
 filth, wears a bright and busy aspect. Situated at the base of 
 a lofty mountain, it overlooks, towards the cast, a plain thirty 
 or forty miles in length, producing the most abundant harvests. 
 A great number of the inhabitants are workers in wood and 
 leather, and very thrifty and cheerful people they appear to be 
 
 Ws remained until the next day at noon, by which time a 
 -bearded scamp, the chief of the mukkairees, or muleteers, 
 in getting us five miserable beaste for the journey
 
 THE VALLEY OF THE ORONTES. 193 
 
 to A leppo. On leaving the city, we travelled along a former 
 street of Antioch, part of the ancient pavement still remain- 
 ing, and after two miles came to the old wall of circuit, which 
 we passed by a massive gateway, of Roman time. It is now 
 called Bab Boulcs, or St. Paul's Gate. Christianity, it will 
 be remembered, was planted in Antioch by Paul and Barna- 
 bas, and the Apostle Peter was the first bishop of the city. 
 We now entered the great plain of the Orontes a level sea, 
 rioting in the wealth of its ripening harvests. The river, lined 
 with luxuriant thickets, meandered through the centre of this 
 glorious picture. We crossed it during the afternoon, and 
 keeping on our eastward course, encamped at night in a mea- 
 dow near the tents of some wandering Turcomans, who fur- 
 nished us with butter and milk from their herds. 
 
 Leaving the plain the next morning, we travelled due east 
 all day, over long stony ranges of mountains, inclosing only 
 one valley, which bore evidence of great fertility. It was cir- 
 cular, about ten miles in its greater diameter, and bounded on 
 the north by the broad peak of Djebel Sarnan, or Mount St. 
 Simon. In the morning we passed a ruined castle, standing iu 
 a dry, treeless dell, among the hot hills The muleteers called 
 it the Maiden's Palace, and said that it was built long ago by 
 a powerful Sultan, as a prison for his daughter. For several 
 nours thereafter, our road was lined with remains of buildings, 
 apparently dating from the time of the Greek Empire. There 
 were tombs, temples of massive masonry, though in a bad style 
 of architecture, and long rows of arched chambers, which 
 resembled store-houses They were all more or less shattered 
 by earthquakes, but in one place I noticed twenty such arches, 
 each of at least twenty feet span. All the hills, ou either 
 
 9
 
 194 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 nand, as far as we could see, were covered with the remains oi 
 buildings. In the plain of St. Simon, I saw two superb pil- 
 lars, apparently part of a portico, or gateway, and the villag* 
 of Dana is formed almost entirely of churches and conventf, 
 of the Lower Empire. There were but few inscriptions, anj 
 these I could not read ; but the whole of this region would, 
 no doubt, richly repay an antiquarian research. I am told here 
 that the entire chain of hills, which extends southward for 
 more than a hundred miles, abounds with similar remains, and 
 that, in many places, whole cities stand almost entire, as if 
 recently deserted by their inhabitants. 
 
 During the afternoon, we came upon a portion of the ancient 
 road from Antioch to Aleppo, which is still as perfect as when 
 first constructed. It crossed a very stony ridge, and is much 
 the finest specimen of road-making I ever saw, quite putting 
 to suame the Appian and Flamiuian Ways at Rome. It is 
 twenty feet wide, and laid with blocks of white marble, from 
 n\o to four feet square. It was apparently raised upon a more 
 ancient road, which diverges here and there from the line, 
 showing the deeply-cut traces of the Roman chariot-wheels. In 
 the barren depths of the mountains we found every hour 
 cisterns cut in the rock and filled with water left by the wintei 
 rains. Many of them, however, are fast drying up, and a 
 mouth later this will be a desert road. 
 
 Towards night we descended from the hills upon the Plain of 
 Keftin, which stretches south-westward from Aleppo, till th 
 mountain-streams which fertilize it are dried up, when it is 
 ct-jrged into the Syrian Desert. Its northern edge, along 
 which we travelled, is covered with fields of wheat, cotton, and 
 castor-beans. We stopped ^ll night at a village called Taireb
 
 APPROACH TO ALEP?0. 195 
 
 planted at the foot of a tumulus, older than tradition. The 
 people were in great dread of the Aneyzeh Arabs, who come 
 in from the Desert to destroy their harvests and carry off their 
 cattle. They wanted us to take a guard, but after our expe 
 rience on the Anti-Lebanon, we felt safer without one. 
 
 Yesterday we travelled for seven hours over a wide, rolling 
 country, now waste and barren, but formerly covered with wealth 
 and supporting an abundant population, evidences of which are 
 found in the buildings everywhere scattered over the hills. On 
 and on we toiled in the heat, over this inhospitable wilderness, 
 and though we knew Aleppo must be very near, yet we could 
 see neither sign of cultivation nor inhabitants. Finally, about 
 three o'clock, the top of a line of shattered wall and the points 
 of some minarets issued out of the earth, several miles in front 
 of us, and on climbing a glaring chalky ridge, the renowned 
 city burst at once upon our view. It filled a wide hollow or 
 basin among the white hills, against which its whiter housed 
 and domes glimmered for miles, in the dead, dreary heat of the 
 afternoon, scarcely relieved by the narrow belt of gardens on 
 the nearer side, or the orchards of pistachio trees beyond. In 
 the centre of the city rose a steep, abrupt mound, crowned 
 with the remains of the ancient citadel, and shining minarets 
 shot up, singly or in clusters, around its base. The prevailing 
 hue of the Ian Iscape was a whitish-gray, and the long, stately 
 city and long, monotonous hills, gleamed with equal brilliancy 
 under a sky of cloudless and intense blue. This singulai 
 monotony of coloring gave a wonderful effect to the view 
 which is one of the most remarkable in all the Orient
 
 THE LANDS OF THE 8AJUCXX. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 LIFE IN ALEPPO. 
 
 tar Entry Into Aleppo We are conducted to a House Our Unexpected WelcMne Th 
 Mystery Explained Aleppo Its Name Its Situation The Trade of Aleppc The 
 Christians The Revolt of 1S50 Present Appearance of the City Visit to Osr.-.an 
 Pasha The Citadel ViewYrom the Battlements Society in Aleppo Etiquette and 
 Costume Jewish Marriage Festivities A Christian Marriage Procession Ride 
 around the Town Nightingales The Aleppo Button A Hospital for Gate Ferhat 
 Pasha. 
 
 ALEPPO, Tuesday, Jvn 8, 1858. 
 
 OUR entry into Aleppo was a fitting preliminary to our expe- 
 riences during the five days we have spent here. After passing 
 a blackamoor, who acted as an advanced guard of the Custom 
 House, at a ragged tt-nt outside of the city, and bribing him 
 with two piastres, we crossed the narrow line of gardens on 
 the western side, and entered the streets. There were many 
 coffee-houses, filled with smokers, nearly all of whom accosted 
 us in Turkish, though Arabic is the prevailing language here. 
 Ignorance made us discourteous, and we slighted every attempt 
 to open a conversation. Out of the narrow streets of the 
 suburbs, we advanced to the bazaars, in order to find a khan 
 *here we could obtain lodgings. All the best khans, however, 
 were filled, and we were about to take a very inferior room, 
 jrhen a respectable individual came up to Fra^ois and said : 
 u The house is ready for the travellers, and J will show you the
 
 AN UNEXPECTED WELCOME. 19*1 
 
 way.'- We were a little surprised at this address, but followed 
 trim to a neat, quiet and pleasant street near the bazaars, 
 where we were ushered into a spacious court-yard, with a row 
 of apartments opening upon it, and told to make ourselves at 
 home. 
 
 The place had evidently been recently inhabited, for the 
 tooms were well furnished, with not only divans, but beds iv 
 the Frank style. A lean kitten was scratching at one of the 
 windows, to the great danger of overturning a pair of narghi- 
 iehs, a tame sea-gull was walking about the court, and two 
 sheep bleated in a stable at the further end. In the kitchen 
 we not only found a variety of utensils, but eggs, salt, pepper, 
 aud other condiments. Our guide had left, and the only infor- 
 mation we could get, from a dyeing establishment next door, 
 was that the occupants had gone into the country. " Take 
 the good the gods provide thee," is my rule in such cases, and 
 as we were very hungry, we set FranQois to work at preparing 
 dinner. We arranged a divan in the open air, had a table 
 brought out, and by the aid of the bakers in the bazaar, and 
 the stores which the kitchen supplied, soon rejoiced over a very 
 palatable meal. The romantic character of our reception made 
 the dinner a merry one. It was a chapter out of the Arabian 
 Nights, and be he genie or afrite, caliph or merchant of Bas- 
 Bora, into whose hands we had fallen, we resolved to let the 
 adventure take its course. We were just finishing a nonde- 
 script pastry which FranQois found at a baker's, and which, foi 
 want of a better name, he called meringue* d la Khorassan, 
 when there was a loud knock at the street door. We felt at 
 first some little trepidation, but determined to maintain our 
 olci es and gravely invite the real master to join us.
 
 198 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 It was a female servant, however, who, to our great amaze 
 ment, made a profound salutation, and seemed delighted to see 
 as. " My master did not expect your Excellencies to-day ; he 
 has gone into the gardens, but will soon return. Will your 
 Excellencies take coffee after your dinner ?" and coffee was 
 forthwith served. The old woman was unremitting in her 
 attentions ; and her son, a boy of eight yea r s, and the most 
 venerable child I ever saw, entertained us with the description 
 of a horse which his master had just bought a horse which 
 had cost two thousand piastres, and was ninety years old. 
 Well, this Aleppo is an extraordinary place, was my first 
 impression, and the inhabitants are remarkable people ; but I 
 waited the master's arrival, as the only means of solving the 
 mystery. About dusk, there was another rap at the door. A 
 lady dressed in white, with an Indian handkerchief bound over 
 her black hair, arrived. " Pray excuse us," said she ; " we 
 thought yon would not reach here before to-morrow ; but my 
 brother will come directly." In fact, the brother did come 
 soon afterwards, and greeted us with a still warmer welcome. 
 41 Before leaving the gardens," he said, " I heard of yonr arri- 
 val, and have come in a full gallop the whole way." In order 
 to put an end to this comedy of errors, I declared at once 
 that he was mistaken ; nobody in Aleppo could possibly know 
 of our coming, and we were, perhaps, transgressing on his 
 hospitality. But no : he would not be convinced. He was a 
 dragoman to the English Consulate ; his master had told him 
 we would be here the next day, and he must be prepared to 
 receive us. Besides, the janissary of the Consnlate had showed 
 us the way to his house. We, therefore, let the matter res* 
 until next morning, when we called on Mr. Very, the Consul
 
 ALEPPO ITS NAME. 191 
 
 who informed us that the janissary had mistaken us for two 
 gentlemen we had met in Damascus, the travelling companions 
 pf Lord Dalkeith. As they had not arrived, he begged us to 
 remain in the quarters which had been prepared for them. 
 We have every reason to be glad of this mistake, as it has 
 made us acquainted with one of the most courteous and hospi- 
 table gentlemen in the East. 
 
 Aleppo lies so far out of the usual routes of travel, that it 
 is rarely visited by Europeans. One is not, therefore, as in the 
 case of Damascus, prepared beforehand by volumes of descrip- 
 tion, which preclude all possibility of mistake or surprise. For 
 my part, I only knew that Aleppo had once been the greatest 
 commercial city of the Orient, though its power had long since 
 passed into other hands. But there were certain stately asso- 
 ciations lingering around the name, which drew me towards it, 
 and obliged me to include it, at all hazards, in my Asiatic tour. 
 The scanty description of Captains Irby and Mangles, the only 
 one I had read, gave me no distinct idea of its position or 
 appearance ; and when, the other day, I first saw it looming 
 grand and gray among the gray hills, more like a vast natural 
 crystallization than the product of human art, I revelled in the 
 novelty of that startling first impression. 
 
 The tradition of the city's name is curious, and worth 
 relating. It is called, hi Arabic, Haleb el-Shakbu Aleppo, 
 the Gray which most persons suppose to refer to the prevail 
 ing color of the soil. The legend, however, goes much farther. 
 Haleb, which the Venetians and Genoese softened into Aleppo, 
 means literally : " has milked." According to Arab tradition, 
 ..he patriarch Abraham once lived here : his tent being pitched 
 near the mound now occupied by the citadel. He had a ccr
 
 200 THK LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 tain gray co\\ (d-shafiba*} which was milked every morning foi 
 the beueGt of the poor. When, therefore, it was proclaimed : 
 "Ibrahim haleb d-skahba" (Abraham has milked the graj 
 cow), all the poor of the tribe came up to receive their share 
 The repetition of this morning call attached itself to the spot 
 and became the name of the city which was afterwards 
 founded. 
 
 Aleppo is built on the eastern slope of a shallow upland 
 basin, through which flows the little River Koweik. There 
 are low hills to the north and south, between which the coun- 
 try falls into a wide, monotonous plain, extending unbroken 
 to the Euphrates. The city is from eight to ten miles in cir- 
 cuit, and, though not so thickly populated, covers a greater 
 extent of space than Damascus. The population is estimated 
 at 100,000. In the excellence (not the elegance) of its archi- 
 tecture, it surpasses any Oriental city I have yet seen. The 
 houses are all of hewn stone, frequently three and even four 
 stories in height, and built in a most massive and durable 
 style, on account of the frequency of earthquakes. The streets 
 are well paved, clean, with narrow sidewalks, and less tortuous 
 and intricate than the bewildering alleys of Damascus. A 
 large part of the town is occupied with bazaars, attesting the 
 splendor of its former commerce. These establishments are 
 covered with lofty vaults of stone, lighted from the top ; and 
 one may walk for miles beneath the spacious roofs. The shopa 
 exhibit all the stuffs of the East, especially of Persia and 
 India. There is also an extensive display of European fabrics, 
 as the eastern provinces of Asiatic Turkey, as far as Baghdad, 
 are supplied entirely from Aleppo and Trebiscond. 
 
 Within ten years in fact, since the Allied Powers drov
 
 TRADE OF ALEPPO. 801 
 
 Ibrahim Pasha out of Syria the trade of Aleppo has increased, 
 at the expense of Damascus. The tribes of the Desert, who 
 were held in check during the Egyptian occupancy, are now 
 so unruly that much of the commerce between the latter place 
 and Baghdad goes northward to Mosul, and thence by a safer 
 road to this city. The khans, of which there are a great num- 
 ber, built on a scale according with the former magnificence of 
 A.leppo, are nearly all filled, and Persian, Georgian, and Arme- 
 nian merchants again make their appearance in the bazaars. 
 The principal manufactures carried on are the making of shoes 
 (which, indeed, is a prominent branch in every Turkish city), 
 and the weaving of silk and golden tissues. Two long bazaars 
 are entirely occupied with shoe-shops, and there is nearly a 
 quarter of a mile of confectionery, embracing more varieties 
 than I ever saw, or imagined possible. I saw yesterday the 
 operation of weaving silk and gold, which is a very slow pro- 
 cess. The warp and the body of the woof were of purple silk. 
 The loom only differed from the old hand-looms in general use 
 in having some thirty or forty contrivances for lifting the 
 threads of the warp, so as to form, by variation, certain pat- 
 terns. The gold threads by which the pattern was worked 
 were contained in twenty small shuttles, thrust by hand under 
 the different parcels of the warp, as they were raised by a boy 
 trained for that purpose, who sat on the top of the loom. The 
 fabric was very brilliant in its appearance, and sells, as the 
 weavers informed me, at 100 piastres per pik about $7 per 
 yard. 
 
 We had letters to Mr. Ford, an AmericaL Missionary estab- 
 lished hero, and Signer di Picciotto, who acts as American 
 Vice-Consul. Roth gentlemen hare been very cordial in theii
 
 202 THE LANDS OF THE SARACKW. 
 
 offers of service, and by their aid we have been enabled to see 
 something of Aleppo life and society. Mr. Ford, who has bete 
 here four years, has a pleasant residence at Jedaida, a Christian 
 suburb of the city. His congregation numbers some fifty or 
 sixty proselytes, who are mostly from the schismatic sects of 
 the Armenians. Dr. Smith, who established the mission at 
 Ain-tab (two days' journey north of this), where he died last 
 year ; was very successful among these sects, and the congrega- 
 tion there amounts to nine hundred. The Sultan, a year ago, 
 issued a firman, permitting his Christian subjects to erect 
 houses of worship ; but, although this was proclaimed in Con- 
 stantinople and much lauded in Europe as an act of great 
 generosity and tolerance, there has been no official promulga- 
 tion of it here. So of the aid which the Turkish Government 
 was said to have afforded to its destitute Christian subjects, 
 whose houses were sacked during the fanatical rebellion of 1850. 
 The world praised the Sultan's charity and love of justice, 
 while the sufferers, to this day, lack the first experience of it 
 But for the spontaneous relief contributed in Europe anr. 
 among the Christian communities of the Levant, the amount 
 of misery would have been frightful. 
 
 To Feridj Pasha, who is at present the commander of the 
 forces here, is mainly due the credit of having put down the 
 rebels with a strong hand. There were but few troops in the 
 ity at the time of the outbreak, and as the insurgents, who 
 were composed of the Turkish and Arab population, were iu 
 league with the Aueyzehs of the Desert, the least faltering or 
 ilelay would have led to a universal massacre of the Christians. 
 Fortunately, the troops were divided into two portions, on 
 xcupykg the barracks on a hill north of the city, and th<
 
 THE WEYOLT OF 1850. 203 
 
 other, a nitre corporal's guard of a dozen men, posted in thf 
 citadel. The leaders of the outbreak went to the latter and 
 offered him a large sum of money (the spoils of Christian 
 houses) tc give up the fortress. With a loyalty to his duty 
 truly miraculous among the Turks, he ordered his men to fire 
 upon them, and they heat a hasty retreat. The quarter of the 
 insurgents lay precisely between the barracks and the citadel, 
 and by order of Feridj Pasha a cannonade was immediately 
 opened on it from both points. It was not, however, until 
 many houses had been battered down, and a still larger number 
 destroyed by fire, that the rebels were brought to submission 
 Their allies, the Aneyzehs, appeared on the hill east of Aleppo, 
 to the number of five or six thousand, but a few well-directed 
 cannon-balls told them what they might expect, and they 
 speedily retreated. Two or three hundred Christian families 
 lost nearly all of their property during the sack, and many 
 were left entirely destitute. The house in which Mr. Ford 
 lives was plundered of jewels and furniture to the amount of 
 400,000 piastres ($20,000). The robbers, it is said, were 
 amazed at the amount of spoil they found. The Government 
 made some feeble efforts to recover it, but the greater part 
 was already sold and scattered through a thousand hands, and 
 the unfortunate Christians have only received about seven per 
 cent, of their loss. 
 
 The burnt quarter has since been rebuilt, and I noticed 
 ieveral Christians occupying shops in various parts 01 it. But 
 to- iy families, who fled at the time, still remain in various 
 parts of Syria, afraid to return to their homes. The Aneyzehp 
 aud other Desert tribes have latterly become more daring thaa 
 ever. Even in the immediate neighborhood of the city, th
 
 204 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 inhabitants are so fearful of them that all the grain is brought 
 cp to the very walls to be threshed. The buryiug-g rounds or 
 both sides are now -turned into threshing-floors, and all day 
 long the Turkish peasants drive their heavy sleds around 
 among the tomb-stones. 
 
 On the second day after our arrival, we paid a visit to 
 Osman Pasha, Governor of the City and Province of Aleppo. 
 We went in state, accompanied by the Consul, with two janis- 
 saries in front, bearing silver maces, and a didgoman behind 
 The serai, or palace, is a large, plain wooden building, and a 
 group of soldiers about the door, with a shabby carriage in the 
 court, were the only tokens of its character. We were ushered 
 at once into the presence of the Pasha, who is a man of about 
 seventy years, with a good-humored, though shrewd face. He 
 was quite cordial in his manners, complimenting us on our 
 Turkish costume, and vaunting his skill in physiognomy, which 
 at once revealed to him that we belonged to the hignest class 
 of American nobility. In fact, in the firman which he baa 
 since sent us, we are mentioned as " nobles." He invited us 
 to pass a day or two with him, saying that he should derive 
 much benefit from our superior knowledge. We replied that 
 such an intercourse could only benefit ourselves, as his greater 
 experience, and the distinguished wisdom which had made his 
 name long since familiar to our ears, precluded the hope of our 
 oeiug of any service to him. After half an hour's stay, during 
 which we were regaled with jewelled pipes, exquisite Mocha 
 roffee, and sherbet breathing of the gardens of Giilistan, we 
 took our leave. 
 
 The Pasha sent an officer to show us the citadel. We 
 passed around the moat to the entrance on the western si
 
 THE CITADEL. 205 
 
 insisting of a bridge and double gateway. The fortress, as ] 
 have already stated, occupies the crest of an elliptical mound, 
 about one thousand feet by six hundred, and two hundred feet 
 in height It is entirely encompassed by the city and forms a 
 prominent and picturesque feature in the distant view thereof. 
 Formerly, it was thickly inhabited, and at the time of the great 
 earthquake of 1822, there were three hundred families living 
 within the walls, nearly all of whom perished. The outer walls 
 were very much shattered on that occasion, but the enormous 
 towers and the gateway, the grandest specimen of Saracenic 
 architecture iu the East, still remain entire. This gateway, by 
 which we entered, is colossal in its proportions. The outer 
 entrance, through walls ten feet thick, admitted us into a lofty 
 vestibule lined with marble, and containing many ancient 
 inscriptions in mosaic. Over the main portal, which is adorned 
 with sculptured lions' heads, there is a tablet stating that the 
 fortress was built by El Melek el Ashraf (the Holiest of 
 Kings), after which follows : " Prosperity to the True Believ- 
 ers Death to the Infidels !" A second tablet shows that it 
 was afterwards repaired by Mohammed ebn-Berkook, who, I 
 believe, was one of the Fatimite Caliphs. The shekh of the 
 citadel, who accompanied us, stated the age of the structure 
 at nine hundred years, which, as nearly as I can recollect the 
 Saracenic chronology, is correct. He called our attention to 
 numbers of iron arrow-heads sticking in the solid masonry 
 the marks of ancient sieges. Before leaving, we were presented 
 with a bundle of arrows from the armory undoubted relic* 
 of Saracen warfare. 
 
 The citadel is now a mass of ruins, having been deserted 
 lince the earthquake. Grass is growing on the ramparts, and
 
 Ji06 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 the caper plant, with its white-and-purple blossoms, flcunshet 
 among the piles of rubbish. Since the late rebellion, however 
 a small military barrack has been built, and two companies of 
 soldiers are stationed there. We walked around the walls, 
 which command a magnificent view of the city and the widr 
 piains to the south and east. It well deserves to rank with tbe 
 panorama of Cairo from the citadel, and that of Damascus from 
 the Anti-Lebanon, in extent, picturesque ness and rich oriental 
 character. Out of the gray ring of the city, which incloses 
 the mound, rise the great white domes and the whiter minarets 
 of its numerous mosques, many of which are grand and impos- 
 ing structures. The course of the river through the centre of 
 Mie picture is marked by a belt of the greenest verdure, beyond 
 ivliich, to the west, rises a chain of naked red hills, and still 
 further, fading on the horizon, the blue summit of Mt. St. 
 Simon, and the coast range of Akma Dagh. Eastward, over 
 vast orchards of pistachio trees, the barren plain of the 
 Euphrates fades away to a glimmering, hot horizon. Looking 
 downwards on the heart of the city, I was surprised to see a 
 number of open, grassy tracts, out of which, here and there, 
 small trees were growing. But, perceiving what appeared to be 
 subterranean entrances at various points, I found that these 
 tiacts were upon the roofs of the houses and bazaars, verifying 
 ;vhat I had frequently heard, that in Aleppo the inhabitants 
 visit their friends in different parts of the city, by passing over 
 the roofs of the houses. Previous to the earthquake of 1822, 
 these vast roof-plains were cultivated as gardens, and presented 
 an extent of airy bowers as large, if not as magnificent, as 
 the renowned Hanging Gardens of ancient Babylon. 
 Accompanied by Signer li I'icciotto, we spent two or thret
 
 SOCIETY IN ALEPPO 207 
 
 in visring- the houses of the principal Jewish and Chris 
 tian 'amilies in Aleppo. We found, it is true, no such splendoi 
 as it Damascus, but more solid and durable architecture, and a 
 more chastened elegance of tasto. The buildings are all of 
 hewn stone, the court-yards paved with marble, and the walls 
 rich * ith gilding and carved wood. Some of the larger dwell- 
 ings ?;ave small but beautiful gardens attached to them. We 
 wer', everywhere received with the greatest hospitality, and 
 the risits were considered as a favor rather than an intrusion. 
 Indeed, I was frequently obliged to run the risk of giving 
 offence, by declining the refreshments which were offered us. 
 Each round of visits was a feat of strength, and we were 
 obliged to desist from sheer inability to support more coffee, 
 rose-water, pipes, and aromatic sweetmeats. The character of 
 society in Aleppo is singular ; its very life and essence is eti- 
 quette. The laws which govern it are more inviolable than 
 those of the Medes and Persians. The question of precedence 
 among the different families is adjusted by the most delicate 
 scale, and rigorously adhered to in the most trifling matters. 
 Even we, humble voyagers as we are, have been obliged to 
 regulate our conduct according to it. After our having visited 
 certain families, certain others would have been deeply morti- 
 fied had we neglected to call upon them. Formerly, when a 
 traveller arrived here, he was expected to call upon the dif- 
 ferent Consuls, in the order of their established precedence : 
 the Austrian first, English second, French third, &c. After 
 this, he was obliged to stay at home several days, to give the 
 Consuls an opportunity of returning the visits, which they 
 made in the same order. There was a diplomatic importanc* 
 about all his movements, and the least violation of eti
 
 208 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 quette, through ignorance or neglect, was the town talk f<M 
 days. 
 
 This peculiarity in society is evidently a relic of the formal 
 times, wheu Aleppo was a semi- Venetian city, and the opulent 
 seat of Eastern commerce. Many of the inhabitants are 
 descended from the traders of those times, and they all speak 
 the lingua franca, or Levantine Italian. The women wear a 
 costume partly Turkish and partly European, combining the 
 graces of both ; it is, in my eyes, the most beautiful dress in 
 the world. They wear a rich scarf of some dark color on the 
 head, which, on festive occasions, is almost concealed by their 
 jewels, and the heavy scarlet pomegranate blossoms which 
 adorn their dark hair. A Turkish vest and sleeves of embroi- 
 dered silk, open in front, and a skirt of white or some ligh 4 . 
 color, completes the costume. The Jewesses wear in addition 
 a short Turkish caftan, and full trousers gathered at the ankles. 
 At a ball given by Mr. Very, the English Consul, which we 
 attended, all the Christian beauties of Aleppo were present. 
 There was a Gne display of diamonds, many of the ladies wear- 
 ing several thousand dollars' worth on their heads. The pecu- 
 liar etiquette of the place was again illustrated on this occa- 
 sion. The custom is, that the music must be heard for at least 
 one hour before the guests come The hour appointed was 
 eight, but when we went there, at nine, nobody had arrived. 
 As it was generally supposed that the ball was given on oui 
 account, several of the families had servants in the neighbor- 
 hood to watch our arrival ; and, accordingly, we had not been 
 there five minutes before the guests crowded through the door 
 in large numbers. When the first dance (an Arab dance, per- 
 formed by two ladies at a time) was proposed, the wives of thf
 
 JEWISH JIAKRIAGK KKSTIV1TIES 209 
 
 French and Spanish Consuls were first led, or rather dragged, 
 out. When a lady is asked to dance, she invariably refuses 
 She is asked a second and a third time ; and if the gentleman 
 does not solicit most earnestly, and use some gentle force ir. 
 getting her upon the floor, she never forgives him. 
 
 At one of the Jewish houses which we visited, the wedding 
 festivities of one of the daughters were being celebrated. We 
 were welcomed with great cordiality, and immediately ushered 
 into the room of state, an elegant apartment, overlooking the 
 gardens below the city wall. Half the room was occupied by 
 a laised platform, with a divan of blue silk cushions. Here 
 the ladies reclined, in superb dresses of blue, pink, and gold, 
 while the gentlemen were ranged on the floor below. They all 
 rose at our entrance, and we were conducted to seats among 
 the ladies. Pipes and perfumed drinks were served, and the 
 bridal cake, made of twenty-six different fruits, was presented 
 ou a golden salver. Our fair neighbors, some of whom literal- 
 ly blazed with jewels, were strikingly beautiful. Presently the 
 bride appeared at the door, and we all rose and remained 
 standing, as she advanced, supported on each side by the two 
 thebeeniyeh, or bridesmaids. She was about sixteen, slight and 
 graceful in appearance, though not decidedly beautiful, and 
 was attired with the utmost elegance. Her dress was a pale 
 blue silk, heavy with gold embroidery; and over her long dark 
 hair, her neck, bosom, and wrists, played a thousand rainbow 
 gleams from the jewels which covered them. The Jewish musi- 
 cians, seated at the bottom of the hall, struck up a loud, 
 rejoicing harmony on their violins, guitars, and dulcimers, and 
 the women servants, grouped at the door, uttered in chorus thai 
 , shrill cry, which accompanies all such festivals in the Easf
 
 210 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 The bride was careful to preserve the decornm expected o 
 her by speaking no word, nor losing the sad, resigned expres 
 ?ion of her countenance. She ascended to the divan, bowed 
 to each of us with a low, reverential inclination, and seated 
 aerself on the cushions. The music and dances lasted some 
 time, accompanied by the zughareet, or cry of the women, 
 which was repeated with double force when we rose to take 
 leave. The whole company waited on us to the street door, 
 and one of the servants, stationed in the court, shouted some 
 long, sing-song phrases after us as we passed out. I could not 
 learn the words, but was told that it was an invocation 
 of prosperity upon us, in return for the honor which our visit 
 had conferred. 
 
 In the evening I went to view a Christian marriage proces- 
 sion, which, about midnight, conveyed the bride to the house 
 of the bridegroom. The house, it appeared, was too small to 
 receive all the friends of the family, and I joined a large num- 
 ber of them, who repaired to the terrace of the English Con- 
 sulate, to greet the procession as it passed. The first persona 
 who appeared were a company of buffoons ; after them four 
 janissaries, carrying silver maces ; then the male friends, bear- 
 ing colored lanterns and perfumed torches, raised on gilded 
 poles ; then the females, among whom I saw some beautiful 
 Madonna faces in the torchlight ; and finally the bride herself, 
 covered from head to foot with a veil of cloth of gold, and 
 urged along by two maidens : for it is the etiquette of sue! 
 occasions that the bride should resist being taken, and must be 
 forced every step of the way, so that slip is frequently three 
 hours in going the distance of a mile. We watched the pro- 
 fession a long time, winding away through the streets a liut
 
 BIDE AROUND THE CITY. 211 
 
 af torches, and songs, and incense, and noisy jubilee- -under 
 the sweet starlit heaven. 
 
 The other evening, Signer di Picciotto mounted us from his 
 fine Arabian stud, and we rode around the city, outside of the 
 suburbs. The sun was low. and a pale yellow lustre touched 
 the clusters of minarets that rose out of the stately masses of 
 buildings, and the bare, chalky hills to the north. After leav- 
 ing the gardens on the banks of the Koweik, we came upon a 
 dreary waste of ruins, among which the antiquarian finds 
 traces of the ancient Aleppo of the Greeks, the Mongolian con- 
 querors of the Middle Ages, and the Saracens who succeeded 
 them. There are many mosques and tombs, which were once 
 imposing specimens of Saracenic art ; but now, split and shivered 
 by wars and earthquakes, are slowly tumbling into utter decay. 
 On the south-eastern side of the city, its chalk foundations 
 have been hollowed into vast, arched caverns, which extend 
 deep into the earth. Pillars have been left at regular inter- 
 vals, to support the masses above, and their huge, dim laby- 
 rinths resemble the crypts of some great cathedral. They are 
 now used as rope-walks, and filled with cheerful workmen. 
 
 Our last excursion was to a country-house of Signor di Pic- 
 ciotto, in the Gardens of Babala, about four miles from Aleppo. 
 We set out in the afternoon on our Arabians, with our host's 
 gon on a large white donkey of the Baghdad breed. Passing 
 the Turkish cemetery, where we stopped to view the tomb of 
 General Bern, we loosened rein and sped away at full gallop 
 over the hot, white hills. In dashing down a stony rise, the 
 ambitious donkey, who was doing his best to keep up with the 
 horses, fell, hurling Master Picciotto over his head. The boy 
 was bruised a little, but set his teeth together and showed uc
 
 212 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 sign of pain, mounted again, and followed us. The Gardens of 
 Babala are a wilderness of fruit-trees, like those of Damascus 
 Signor P.'s country-house is buried in a wild grove of apricot, 
 fig, orange, and pomegranate-trees. A large marble tank, in 
 front of the open, arched liwan, supplies it with water. We 
 mounted to the flat roof, and watched the sunset fade from the 
 beautiful landscape. Beyond the bowers of dazzling greenness 
 which surrounded us, stretched the wide, gray hills ; the mina- 
 rets of Aleppo, and the walls of its castled mount shone rosily 
 in the last rays of the sun ; an old palace of the Pashas, with 
 the long, low barracks of the soldiery, crowned the top of a 
 hill to the north ; dark, spiry cypresses betrayed the place of 
 tombs ; and, to the west, beyond the bare red peak of Mount 
 St. Simon, rose the faint blue outline of Giaour Dagh, whose 
 mural chain divides Syria from the plains of Cilicia. As the 
 twilight deepened over the scene, there came a long, melodious 
 cry of passion and of sorrow from the heart of a starry-flowered 
 pomegranate tree in the garden. Other voices answered it 
 from the gardens around, until not one, but fifty nightingales 
 charmed the repose of the hour. They vied with each other in 
 their bursts of passionate music. Each strain soared over the 
 last, or united with others, near and far, in a chorus of the 
 divinest pathos an expression of sweet, unutterable, unquench- 
 able longing. It was an ecstasy, yet a pain, to listen. 
 "Away !" said Jean Paul to Music : " thou tellest me of that 
 which I have not, and never can have which I forever seek, 
 and never find 1" 
 
 But space fails me to describe half the incidents of our stay 
 m Aleppo. There are two things peculiar to the city, how 
 ever, which I must not omit mentioning. One is the Aleppc
 
 THE ALEPPO BUTTON OATS. 213 
 
 Button, a singular ulcer, which attacks every person bum in 
 the city, and every stranger who spends more than a month 
 there. It can neither be prevented nor cured, and always laste 
 for a year. The inhabitants almost invariably have it on the 
 face either on the cheek, forehead, or tip of the nose where 
 it often leaves an indelible and disfiguring scar. Strangers, on 
 the contrary, have it on one of the joints, either the elbow, 
 wrist, knee, or ankle. So strictly is its visitation confined to 
 the city proper, that in none of the neighboring villages, nor 
 even in a distant suburb, is it known. Physicians have vainly 
 attempted to prevent it by inoculation, and are at a loss to 
 what cause to ascribe it. We are liable to have it, even aftei 
 five days' stay ; but I hope it will postpone its appearance 
 until after I reach home. 
 
 The other remarkable thing here is the Hospital for Cats. 
 This was founded long ago by a rich, cat-loving Mussulman, 
 and is one of the best endowed institutions in the city. An 
 old mosque is appropriated to the purpose, under the charge 
 of several directors ; and here sick cats are nursed, homeless 
 cats find shelter, and decrepit cats gratefully purr away their 
 declining years. The whole category embraces several hundreds, 
 and it is quite a sight to behold the court, the corridors, and 
 terraces of the mosque swarming with them. Here, one with 
 a bruised limb is receiving a cataplasm ; there, a cataleptic 
 patient is tenderly cared for ; and so on, through the long con- 
 catenation of feline diseases. Aleppo, moreover, rejoices in a 
 greater number of cats than even Jerusalem. At a rough 
 guess, I should thus state the population of the city : Turks 
 and Arabs, 70,000; Christians of all denominations, 15,000; 
 Jews, 10,000; dogs, 12,000 ; and cats, 8,000.
 
 914 THE LANDS OF THE SARACKK. 
 
 Among other persons whom I have met here, 13 Ferbal 
 Pasha, formerly General Stein, Hungarian Minister of War 
 and Governor of Transylvania. He accepted Mosleinism with 
 Bern and others, and now rejoices in his circumcision and 7,000 
 piastres a month. He is a fat, companionable sort of man. 
 who, by his own confession, never labored very zealously for the 
 independence of Hungary, being an Austrian by birth. He 
 conversed with me for several hours on the scenes in which he 
 had participated, and attributed the failure of the Hungarians 
 to the want of material means. General Bern, who died here, 
 is spoken of with the utmost respect, both by Turks and Chris- 
 tians. The former have honored him with a large tomb, or 
 mausoleum, covered with a dome. 
 
 Bat I must close, leaving half unsaid. Suffice it to say 
 that no Oriental city has interested me so profoundly as Aleppo, 
 and in none have I received such universal and cordi-il hospi- 
 tality. We leave to-morrow for Asia Minor, having e; 
 men and horses for the whole route to Constantinople
 
 AM INAUSPICIOUS DEPARTURE. 215 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THROUGH THE SYRIAN GATES. 
 
 in Inauspicious Departure The Ruined Church of St. Simon The Plain of AnUoch- t 
 Turcoman Encampment Climbing Akma Dagh The Syrian Gates Scanderoon An 
 American Captain Revolt of the Koords We take a Guard The Field of Isius 
 The Robber-Chief, Kutchuk Ali A Deserted Town A Land of Garden*. 
 
 " Mountains, on whose barren breast 
 The lab'ring clouds do often rest." 
 
 MU.TOS. 
 
 Is QUARANTINE (Aelana, Asia Minor), Tuesday, June 15, 18GB. 
 
 WE left Aleppo on the inoruing of the 9th, under circumstances 
 not the most promising for the harmony of our journey. We 
 had engaged horses and baggage-mules from the capidji, or 
 chief of the muleteers, and in order to be certain ot having 
 animals that would not break down on the way, made a par 
 ticular selection from a number that were brought us. When 
 about leaving the city, however, we discovered that one of the 
 horses had been changed. Signer di Picciotto, who accompa 
 uied us past the Custom-House barriers, immediately dispatched 
 the delinquent muleteer to bring back the true horse, and the 
 latter made a farce of trying to find him, leading the Consul 
 and the capidji (who, I believe, was at the bottom of the 
 iheat) a wild-goose chase over the hills around Aleppo, where 
 of coarse, the animal was not to be seen. When, at length
 
 216 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN'. 
 
 we had waited three hours, and had wandered about four railed 
 from the city, we gave up the search, took lea 7e of the Consul 
 and weiit on with the new horse. Our proper plan would have 
 been to pitch the tent and refuse to move till the matter was 
 settled. The animal, as we discovered during the first day's 
 journey, was hopelessly lame, and we only added tc the diffi- 
 culty by taking him. 
 
 We rode westward all day over barren and stony hills, 
 meeting with abundant traces of the power and prosperity of 
 this region during the times of the Greek Emperors. The 
 nevastation wrought by earthquakes has been terrible ; there 
 is scarcely a wall or arch standing, which does not bear marks 
 of having been violently shaken. The walls inclosing the fig- 
 orchards near the villages contain many stones with Greek 
 inscriptions, and fragments of cornices. We encamped the 
 first night on the plain at the foot of Mount St. Simon, and 
 not far from the ruins of the celebrated Church of the same 
 name. The building stands in a stony wilderness at the foot 
 of the mountain. It is about a hundred feet long and thirty 
 in height, with two lofty square towers in front. The pave- 
 ment of the interior is entirely concealed by the masses of 
 pillars, capitals, and hewn blocks that lie heaped upon it. The 
 windows, which are of the tall, narrow, arched form, common 
 in Byzantine Churches, have a common moulding which falls 
 like a mantle over and between them. The general effect of 
 the Church is very fine, though there is much inelegance in the 
 sculptured details. At the extremity is a half-dome of massive 
 gtone, over the place of the altar, and just in front of this for- 
 merly stood the pedestal whereon, according to tradition, 
 8t. Simeon Stylites comme ed his pillar-life. I found a recent
 
 THE PLAIN OF ANTIOCH. 211 
 
 excavation at the spot, but no pedestal, which has probably 
 been carried off by the Greek monks. Beside the Church 
 stands a large building, with an upper and lower balcony, sup- 
 ported by square stone pillars, around three sides. There is 
 also a paved court-yard, a large cistern cut in the rock and 
 numerous out-buildings, all going to confirm the supposition of 
 its having been a monastery. The main building is three 
 stories high, with pointed gables, and bears a strong resem- 
 blance to an American summer hotel, with verandas. Several 
 ancient fig and walnut trees are growing among the ruins, and 
 add to their picturesque appearance. 
 
 The next day we crossed a broad chain of hills to the Plain 
 of Antioch, which we reached near its northern extremity. In 
 one of the valleys through which the road lay, we saw a num- 
 ber of hot sulphur springs, some of them of a considerable 
 volume of water. Not far from them was a beautiful fountain 
 of fresh and cold water gushing from the foot of a high rock. 
 Soon after reaching the plain, we crossed the stream of Kara 
 Su, which feeds the Lake of Antioch. This part of the plain 
 is low and swampy, and the streams are literally alive with fish. 
 While passing over the bridge I saw many hundreds, from one 
 to two feet in length. We wandered through the marshy 
 meadows for two or three hours, and towards sunset reached a 
 Turcoman encampment, where the ground was dry enough to 
 pitch our tents. The rude tribe received us hospitably, anr 1 
 snt us milk and cheese in abundance. I visited the tent of tht 
 Shokbj who was very courteous, but as he- know no language 
 bat Turkish, our conversation was restricted to signs. The 
 tent was of camel's-hair cloth, spacious, and open at the sides. 
 A. rug was spread for me, and the Shekh's wife brought me e
 
 818 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 pipe of tolerable tobacco. The household were seated upon 
 the ground, chatting pleasantly with one another, and appa 
 rently not in the least disturbed by my presence. One of th 
 Shekh's sons, who was deaf and dumb, came and sat before me, 
 and described by very expressive signs the character of the 
 road to Scanderoon. He gave me to understand that there 
 were robbers in the mountains, with many grim gestures 
 descriptive of stabbing and firing muskets. 
 
 The mosquitoes were so thick during the night that we were 
 obliged to fill the tent with smoke in order to sleep. When 
 morning came, we fancied there would be a relief for us, but 
 it only brought a worse pest, in the shape of swarms of black 
 gnats, similar to those which so tormented me in Nubia. I 
 know of no infliction so terrible as these gnats, which you can- 
 not drive away, and which assail ears, eyes, and nostrils in 
 such quantities that you become mad and desperate in your 
 efforts to eject them. Through glens filled with oleander, we 
 ascended the first slopes of Akma Dagh, the mountain range 
 which divides the Gulf of Scanderoon from the Plain of 
 Antioch. Then, passing a natural terrace, covered with 
 groves of oak, our road took the mountain side, climbing 
 upwards in the shadow of pine and wild olive trees, and between 
 banks of blooming lavender and myrtle. We saw two or 
 three companies of armed guards, stationed by the road-side, 
 for the mountain is infested with robbers, and a caravan had 
 been plundered only three days before. The view, looking 
 backward, took in the whole plain, with the Lake of Antioeh 
 glittering in the centre, the valley of the Orontes in the south, 
 and the lofty cone of Djebel Okrab far to the west. Ai 
 we approached the summit, violent gusts of wind blew through
 
 THE SYRIAN GATES. 219 
 
 the pass vvuh buch force as almost to overturn our lurses 
 Here the road from Aiitioch joins that from Aleppo, and botc 
 for some distance retain the ancient pavement. 
 
 From the western side we saw the sea once more, and went 
 down through the Pyla Syria, or Syrian Gates, as this deSle 
 was called by the Romans. It is very narrow and rugged, 
 with an abrupt descent. In an hour from the summit we 
 came upon an aqueduct of a triple row of arches, crossing the 
 gorge. It is still used to carry water to the town of Beilan, 
 which hangs over the mouth of the pass, half a mile below. 
 This is one of the most picturesque spots in Syria. The houses 
 cling to the sides and cluster on the summits of precipitous 
 crags, and every shelf of soil, every crevice where a tree 
 can thrust its roots, upholds a mass of brilliant vegetation. 
 Water is the life of the place. It gushes into the street from 
 exhaustless fountains ; it trickles from the terraces in showers 
 of misty drops ; it tumbles into the gorge in sparkling streams ; 
 and everywhere it nourishes a life as bright and beautiful 
 as its own. The fruit trees are of enormous size, and the 
 crags are curtained with a magnificent drapery of vines. This 
 green gateway opens suddenly upon another, cut through 
 a glittering mass of micaceous rock, whence one looks down on 
 the town and Gulf of Scanderoon, the coast of Karamania 
 beyond, and the distant snows of the Taurus. We descended 
 through groves of pine and oak, and in three hours more 
 reached the shore. 
 
 Scanderoon is the most unhealthy place on the Syrian Coast, 
 owing to the malaria from a marsh behind it. The inhabitants 
 are a wretched pallid set, who are visited every year with 
 devastating fevers. The marsh was partly drained some forty
 
 220 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 years ago by the Turkish government, and a few thousand 
 dollars would be sufficient to remove it entirely, and make the 
 place which is of some importance as the seaport of Aleppo 
 healthy and habitable. At present, there are not five hundred 
 inhabitants, and half of these consist of the Turkish garrisoi 
 and the persons attached to the different Vice-Consulatea 
 The streets are depositories of filth, and pools of stagnant 
 crater, on all sides, exhale the most fetid odors. Near the 
 town are the ruins of a castle built by Godfrey of Bouillon. 
 We marched directly down to the sea-shore, and pitched our 
 tent close beside the waves, as the place most free from mala- 
 ria. There were a dozen vessels at anchor in the road, and 
 one of them proved to be the American bark Columbia Capt 
 Taylor. We took a skiff and went on board, where we were 
 cordially welcomed by the mate. In the evening, the captain 
 came to our tent, quite surprised to find two wandering Ameri- 
 cans in such a lonely corner of the world. Soon afterwards, 
 with true seaman-like generosity, he returned, bringing a jar 
 of fine Spanish olives and a large bottle of pickles, which he 
 insisted on adding to our supplies. The olives have the 
 choicest Andalusian flavor, and the pickles lose none of their 
 relish from having been put up in New York. 
 
 The road from Scanderoon to this place lies mostly along 
 the shore of the gulf, at the foot of Akma Dagh, and is 
 reckoned dangerous on account of the marauding bands of 
 Koords who infest the mountains. These people, like the 
 Druses, have rebelled against the conscription, and will proba- 
 bly hold their ground with equal success, though the Turks 
 talk loudly of invading their strongholds. Two weeks ago, 
 the post was robbed, about ten miles from Scanderoon, and a
 
 WE TAKE A GUARD. 221 
 
 government vessel, now lying at anchor in the buy, opened a 
 cannonade on the plunderers, before they could be secured 
 In consequence of the warnings of danger in everybody ; a 
 mouth, we decided to take an escort, and therefore waited 
 upon the commander of the forces, with the firman of the 
 Pasha of Aleppo. A convoy of two soldiers was at once 
 promised us ; and at sunrise, next morning, they took the lead 
 of our caravan. 
 
 In order to appear more formidable, in case we should meet 
 with robbers, we put on our Frank pantaloons, which had no 
 other effect than to make the heat more intolerable. But we 
 formed rather a fierce cavalcade, six armed men in all. Our 
 road followed the shore of the bay, having a narrow, uninha- 
 bited flat, covered with thickets of myrtle and mastic, between 
 as and the mountains. The two soldiers, more valiant than 
 the guard of Banias, rode in advance, and showed no signs of 
 fear as we approached the suspicious places. The morning 
 was delightfully clear, and the snow-crowned range of Taurus 
 shone through the soft vapors hanging over the gulf. In one 
 place, we skirted the Ashore for some distance, under a bank 
 twenty fett in height, and so completely mantled with shrub- 
 bery, that a small army might have hidden in it. There were 
 gulleys at intervals, opening suddenly on our path, and we 
 looked up them, expecting every moment to see the gleam of a 
 Koordish gun-barrel, or a TurcoinaL spear, above the tops oi 
 the myrtles. 
 
 Crossing a promontory which makes out from the rnoua 
 tains, we came upon the renowned plaiu of Issos, where Dariug 
 lost his kingdom to Alexander. On a low cliff overhanging 
 the sea, there are the remains of a single tower of gray stone
 
 222 THE LANDS 01 THE SARACEN. 
 
 the people in Scanderoon call it " Jonah's Pillar," and ^ 
 that it marks the spot where the Ninevite was cast ashore bj 
 the whale. [This makes three places on the Syrian coast 
 where Jonah was vomited forth.] The plain of Issus is from 
 two to three miles long, but not more than half a mile wide. 
 It is traversed by a little river, supposed to be the Pinarns, 
 which comes down through a tremendous cleft in the Akma 
 Dagh. The ground seems too small for the battle-field of such 
 armies as were engaged on the occasion. It is bounded on the 
 north by a low hill, separating it from the plain of Baias, and 
 it is possible that Alexander may have made choice of this 
 position, leaving the unwieldy forces of Darius to attack him 
 from the plain. His advantage would be greater, on account 
 of the long, narrow form of the ground, which would prevent 
 him from being engaged with more than a small portion of the 
 Persian army, at one time. The plain is now roseate with 
 blooming oleanders, but almost entirely uncultivated. About 
 midway there are the remains of an ancient quay jutting into 
 the sea. 
 
 Soon after leaving the field of Issus, we reached the town 
 of Ba'ias, which is pleasantly situated on the shore, at the 
 mouth of a river whose course through the plain is marked 
 with rows of tall poplar trees. The walls of the town, and the 
 white dome and minaret of its mosque, rose dazzlingly against 
 the dark blue of the sea, and the purple stretch of the moun- 
 tains of Karamania. A single palm lifted its crest in the fore- 
 ground We dismounted for breakfast under the shade of an 
 old bridge which crosses the river. It was a charming spot, 
 the banks abore and below being overhung with oleander 
 white rose honeysuckle and clematis. The two gnardsmei
 
 THE ROBBEK CH1R7. 223 
 
 nuished the remaining half of our Turcoman cheest, and almost 
 exhausted our supply of bread. I gave one of them a cigar, 
 which he was at a loss how to smoke, until our muleteer 
 showed him. 
 
 Ba'ias was celebrated fifty years ago, as the residence of the 
 robber chief, Kutchuk Ali, who, for a long time, braved the 
 authority of the Porte itself. He was in the habit of levying 
 a yearly tribute on the caravan to Mecca, and the better to 
 enforce his claims, often suspended two or three of his cap- 
 tives at the gates of the town, a day or two before the caravan 
 arrived. Several expeditions were sent against him, but he 
 always succeeded in bribing the commanders, who, on their 
 return to Constantinople, made such representations that 
 Kutchuk Ali, instead of being punished, received one dignity 
 after another, until finally he attained the rank of a Pasha of 
 two tails. This emboldened him to commit enormities too 
 great to be overlooked, and in 1812 Bams was taken, and the 
 atrocious nest of land-pirates broken up. 
 
 I knew that the town had been sacked on this occasion, but 
 was not prepared to find such a complete picture of desolation. 
 The place is surrounded with a substantial wall, with two gate- 
 ways, on the north and south. A bazaar, covered with a lofty 
 vaulted roof of stone, runs directly through from gate to gate ; 
 and there was still a smell of spices in the air, on entering. 
 The massive shops on either hand, with their open doors, 
 invited possession, and might readily be made habitable again. 
 The great iron gates leading from the bazaar into the khans 
 and courts, still swing on their rusty hinges. We rode into 
 the court of the mosque, which is surrounded with a light and 
 elegant corridor, supported by pillars. The grass has as yet
 
 224 THE LANDS OF THE SA&ACKK. 
 
 bat partially invaded the marble pavement, aud a stone drink 
 ing-trough still stands in the centre. I urged my horse up the 
 steps and into the door of the mosque. It is in the form of 
 a Greek cross, with a dome in the centre, resting on four verj 
 elegant pointed arches. There is an elaborately gilded and 
 painted gallery of wood over the entrance, aud the pulpit 
 opposite is as well preserved as if the mollah had just left it 
 Out of the mosque we passed into a second court, aud then 
 over & narrow bridge into the fortress. The moat is perfect, 
 and the walls as complete as if just erected. Only the bottom 
 is dry, and now covered with a thicket of wild pomegranate 
 trees. The heavy iron doors of the fortress swung half open, 
 as we entered unchallenged. The interior is almost entire, 
 and some of the cannon still lie buried in the springing grass. 
 The plan of the little town, which appears to have been all 
 built at one tune, is most admirable. The walls of circuit, 
 including the fortress, cannot be more than 300 yards square, 
 and yet none of the characteristics of a large Oriental city are 
 omitted. 
 
 Leaving BaTas, we travelled northward, over a waste, 
 though fertile plain. The mountains on our right made 
 a grand appearance, with their feet mantled in myrtle, ami their 
 tops plumed with pine. They rise from the sea with a long, 
 bold sweep, but each peak falls off in a precipice on the oppo- 
 site side, as if the chain were the barrier of the world and 
 there was nothing but space beyond. In the afternoon we 
 left the plain for a belt of glorious garden land, made by 
 itreams that came down from the mountains. We entered a 
 lane embowered in pomegranate, white rose, clematis, and 
 other flowering vines and shrubs, and overarched by snperr
 
 A 1-AND OF GARDENS. 225 
 
 plane, lime, and beech trees, chained together with giant grape 
 vines On cither side were fields of ripe wheat and bar- 
 ley, mulberry orchards and groves of fruit trees, under the 
 shadt of which the Turkish families sat or slept during the 
 hot lours of the day. Birds sang in the boughs, and the 
 gurgling of water made a cool undertone to their music. Out 
 of fairyland where shall I see again such lovely bowers? We 
 were glad when the soldiers announced that it was necessary 
 to encamp there ; as we should find no other habitations for 
 more than twenty miles. 
 
 Our tent was pitched under a grand sycamore, beside a 
 pwift mountain stream which almost made the circuit of our 
 camp. Beyond the tops of the elm, beech, and fig groves, we 
 saw the picturesque green summits of the lower ranges of 
 Giaour Dagh, in the north-east, while over the southern 
 meadows a golden gleam of sunshine lay upon the Gulf of 
 Scanderoon. The village near us was Chaya, where there is a 
 military station. The guards we had brought from Scan- 
 deroon here left us ; but the commanding officer advised us tc 
 take others on the norrow, an the road was still considered
 
 THB LANDS OF THK 3ABACRH 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 \DANA AND TARSUS. 
 
 Fb Black Gate The Plain of Cilicia A Koord Village Missis CUIcLin Scenery- 
 Arrlval at Adana Three days in Quarantine We receive Pratique A Landscape 
 The Plain of Tarsus The River Cydnus A Vision of Cleopatra Tarsus and Its 
 Environs The Dunlktanh The Moon of Ramazan. 
 
 " Paul said, I am a man which am a Jew of Tarsus, a city In Cflicla, a citiien of no 
 mean city." Acre, xxi. 89. 
 
 KHAH OH Mr. TAURUS, Saturday, JWM 19, 1858. 
 
 WE left our camp at Chaya at dawn, with an escort ot three 
 soldiers, which we borrowed from the guard stationed at that 
 place. The path led along the shore, through clumps of 
 myrtle beaten inland by the wind, and rounded as smoothly as 
 if they had been clipped by a gardener's shears. As we 
 approached the head of the gulf, the peaked summits of Giaour 
 Dagh, 10,000 feet in height, appeared in the north-east. The 
 streams we forded swarmed with immense trout. A brown 
 hedgehog ran across our road, but when I touched him with 
 the end of my pipe, rolled himself into an impervious ball of 
 orickles. Soon after turning the head of the gulf, the road 
 swerved off to the west, and entered a narrow pass, between 
 hills covered with thick copse-wood. Here we came upon ac 
 indent gateway of black lava stone, which bears marks of
 
 THK PLA1K Of OILICIA. 
 
 227 
 
 great antiquity It is now called Kara Kap*, the " Black 
 Gate," and some suppose it to have been one of the ancient 
 
 gates of Cilicia, 
 
 Beyond this, our road led over high, grassy hills, without fi 
 sign of human habitation, to the ruined khan of Koord Koolak. 
 We dismounted and unloaded onr baggage in the spacious 
 stone archway, and drove our beasts into the dark, vaulted 
 halls behind. The building was originally intended for a 
 magazine of supplies, and from the ruined mosque near it, 1 
 suspect it was formerly one of the caravan stations for the 
 pilgrims from Constantinople to Mecca. ' The weather was 
 intensely hot and sultry, and our animals were almost crazy 
 from the attacks of a large yellow gad-fly. After the noonday 
 heat was over we descended to the first Cilician plain, which is 
 bounded on the west by the range of Durdun Dagh. As we 
 had now passed the most dangerous part of the road, we dis- 
 missed the three soldiers and took but a single man with us. 
 The entire plain is covered with wild fennel, six to eight feet in 
 height, and literally blazing with its bloomy yellow tops. 
 Riding through it, I could barely look over them, and far aud 
 wide, on all sides, spread a golden sea, out of which the long 
 violet hills rose with the loveliest effect. Brown, shining 
 serpents, from four to six feet in length, frequently slid acros8 
 our path. The plain, which must be sixty miles in circumfe- 
 rence, is wholly uncultivated, though no land could possibly be 
 richer. 
 
 Out of the region of fennel we passed into one of red and 
 white clover, timothy grass and wild oats. The thistles were 
 so large as to resemble young palm-trees, and the salsify of our 
 gardens grew rank and wild. At length we dipped into the
 
 THE LANDS OF THE BARAOXJT. 
 
 evening shadow of Durdun Dagh, and reached the village oi 
 Koord Keui, on his lower slope. As there was no place foi 
 onr tent on the rank grass of the plain or the steep side of th* 
 hill, we took forcible possession of the winnowing-floor, a flat 
 terrace built up under two sycamores, and still covered with 
 the chaff of the last threshing. The Koords took the whole 
 thing as a matter of course, and even brought ns a felt carpet 
 to rest upon. They came and seated themselves around us, 
 chatting sociably, while we lay in the tent-door, smoking the 
 pipe of refreshment. The view over the wide golden plain, 
 and the hills beyond, to the distant, snow-tipped peaks of 
 Akma Dagh, was superb, as the shadow of the mountain behind 
 ns slowly lengthened over it, blotting out the mellow lights of 
 sunset. There were many fragments of pillars and capitals of 
 white marble built up in the houses, showing that they occu- 
 pied the site of some ancient village or temple. 
 
 The next morning, we crossed Durdun Dagh, and entered 
 the great plain of Cilicia. The range, after we had passed it, 
 presented a grand, bold, broken outline, blue in the morning 
 vapor, and wreathed with shifting belts of cloud. A stately 
 castle, called the Palace of Serpents, on the summit of an 
 isolated peak to the north, stood out clear and high, in the 
 midst of a circle of fog, like a phantom picture of the air. The 
 River Jyhoon, the ancient Pyramus, which rises on the borders 
 of Armenia, sweeps the western base of the mountains. It is 
 a larger stream than the Orontes, with a deep, rapid current, 
 flowing at the bottom of a bed lower than the level of the 
 plain. In three hours, we reached Missis, the ancient Mop- 
 uestia, on the right bank of the river. There are extensivt 
 nrina on the left bank, which were probably those of the for
 
 ARRIVAL AT ADANA. 229 
 
 naer city The soil for somo distance aroand is scattered with 
 broken pillars capitals and hewn stones. The ancient bridge 
 still crosses the river, but the central arch having been broken 
 away, is replaced with a wooden platform. The modern towi. 
 .8 a forlorn place, and all the glorious plain around it is uncut 
 drated. The view over this plain was magnificent : unbounded 
 towards the sea, but on the north girdled by the sublime range 
 of Taurus, whose great snow-fields gleamed in the sun. In the 
 afternoon, we reached the old bridge over the Jyhoon, at 
 Adana. The eastern bank is occupied with the graves of the 
 former inhabitants, and there are at least fifteen acres of tomb- 
 stones, as thickly planted as the graves can be dug. The fields 
 of wheat and barley along the river are very rich, and at pre- 
 sent the natives are busily occupied in drawing the sheaves on 
 large sleds to the open threshing-floors. 
 
 The city is built over a low eminence, and its four tall mina- 
 rets, with a number of palm-trees rising from the mass of 
 brown brick walls, reminded me of Egypt. At the end of the 
 bridge, we were met by one of the Quarantine officers, who 
 preceded us, taking care that we touched nobody in the streets, 
 to the Quarantine building. This land quarantine, between 
 Syria and Asia Minor, when the former country is free from 
 any epidemic, seems a most absurd thing. We were detained 
 at Adana three days and a half, to be purified, before proceed- 
 ing further. Lately, the whole town was placed in quarantine 
 for five days, because a Turkish Bey, who lives near Baias, 
 nntered the gates without being noticed, and was found in the 
 bazaars. The Quarantine building was once a palace of the 
 Pashas of Adana, but is now in a half-ruined condition. The 
 rooms are large and airy, and there is a spacious open divar
 
 230 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN 
 
 which affords ample shade aud a cool breeze throughout the 
 whole day. Ftrtunately for us, there were only three persona 
 in Quarantine, who occupied a room distaut from ours. The 
 Inspector was a very obliging person, and procured us a table 
 and two chairs. The only table to be had in the whole place 
 a town of 15,000 inhabitants belonged to an Italian merchant, 
 who kindly gave it for our use. We employed a messenger to 
 purchase provisions in the bazaars ; and our days passed 
 quietly in writing, smoking, and gazing indolently from our 
 windows upon the flowery plains beyond the town. Our nights, 
 however, were tormented by small white gnats, which stung us 
 unmercifully. The physician of Quarantine, Dr. Spaguolo, is a 
 Venetian refugee, and formerly editor of La Lego, Italiana, a 
 paper published in Venice during the revolution. He informed 
 us that, except the Princess Belgioioso, who passed through 
 Adaua on her way to Jerusalem, we were the only travellers 
 he had seen for eleven months. 
 
 After three days and four nights of grateful, because invo- 
 'untary, indolence, Dr. Spagnolo gave us pratique, and we lost 
 no time in getting under weigh again. We were the only 
 occupants of Quarantine ; and as we moved out of the portal 
 of the old serai', at sunrise, no one was guarding it. The 
 Inspector and Mustapha, the messenger, took their back- 
 sheeshes with silent gratitude. The plain on the west side of 
 the town is well cultivated ; and as we rode along towards 
 Tarsus, I was charmed with the rich pastoral air of the 
 scenery. It was like one of the midland landscapes of Eng- 
 land, bathed in Southern sunshine. The beautiful level, 
 stretching away to the mountains, stood golden with the fields 
 j/1 wheat which the reapers were cutting. It was no longer
 
 THE ROAD TO TARSUS. 231 
 
 bare, but dotted with orange groves, clumps of holly, and a 
 number of magnificent terebinth-trees, whos*; dark, rounded 
 masses of foliage remind one of the Northern oak. Cattle 
 were grazing in the stubble, and horses, almost buried under 
 loads of fresh grass, met us as they passed to the city. The- 
 sheaves were drawn to the threshing-floor on sleds, and *<ve 
 could see the husbandmen in the distance treading out and 
 winnowing the grain. Over these bright, busy scenes, rose 
 the lesser heights of the Taurus, and beyond them, mingled in 
 white clouds, the snows of the crowning range. 
 
 The road to Tarsus, which is eight hours distant, lies over an 
 unbroken plain. Towards the sea, there are two tumuli, resem- 
 bling those on the plains east of Antioch. Stone wells, with 
 troughs for watering horses, occur at intervals of three or four 
 miles ; but there is little cultivation after leaving the vicinity 
 of Adana. The sun poured down an intense summer heat, and 
 hundreds of large gad-flies, swarming around us, drove the 
 horses wild with their stings. Towards noon, we stopped 
 at a little village for breakfast. We took possession of a 
 shop, which the good-natured merchant offered us, and were 
 about to spread our provisions upon the counter, when the 
 gnats and mosquitoes fairly drove us away. We at once went 
 forward in search of a better place, which gave occasion to our 
 chief mukkairee, Hadji Youssuf, for a violent remonstrance 
 The terms of the agreement at Aleppo gave the entire control 
 of the journey into our own hands, and the Hadji now sought 
 to violate it. He protested against our travelling more than 
 six hours a day, and conducted himself so insolently, that we 
 threatened to take him before the Pasha of Tarsus. This 
 silenced him for the time ; but we hate him so cordially sine/
 
 232 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 then, that I foresee we shall have more trouble. Iii the after 
 noon, a gust, sweeping along the sides of Taurus, cooled the ab 
 and afforded us a little relief. 
 
 By three o'clock we reached the River Cydnus, which is 
 bare of trees on its eastern side, but flows between bantu 
 covered with grass and shrubs. It is still spanned by the 
 aucient bridge, and the mules now step in the hollow ruts worn 
 long ago by Roman and Byzantine chariot wheels. The stream 
 is not more than thirty yards broad, but has a very full and 
 rapid current of a bluish-white color, from the snows which feed 
 it I rode down to the brink and drank a cup of the water. 
 It was exceedingly cold, and I do not wonder that a bath in it 
 should have killed the Emperor Barbarossa. From the top of 
 the bridge, there is a lovely view, down the stream, where it 
 washes a fringe of willows and heavy fruit-trees on its western 
 bank, and then winds away through the grassy plain, to the 
 sea. For once, my fancy ran parallel with the inspiration of the 
 scene. I could think of nothing but the galley of Cleopatra 
 slowly stemming the current of the stream, its silken sails filled 
 with the sea-breeze, its gilded oars keeping time to the flutes, 
 whose voluptuous melodies floated far out over the vernal 
 meadows. Tarsus was probably almost hidden then, as now, 
 by its gardens, except just where it touched the river ; and the 
 dazzling vision of the Egyptian Queen, as she came up con- 
 quering and to conquer, must have been all the more bewilder- 
 ing, from the lovely bowers through which she sailed. 
 
 From the bridge an ancient road still leads to the old 
 Byzantine gate of Tarsus. Part of the town is encompassed 
 by a wall, built by the Caliph Haroim Al-Raschid, and there 
 is a ruined fortress, which is attributed to Sultan Bajazet
 
 TAB8U& 888 
 
 Small streams, brought from the Cydnas, traverse the environs 
 and, with such a fertile soil, the luxuriance of the gardens in 
 which the city lies buried is almost incredible. In our rambles 
 in search of a place to pitch the tent, we entered a superb 
 ?range-orchard, the foliage of which made a perpetual twilight. 
 Many of the trunks were two feet in diameter. The houses 
 are mostly of one story, and the materials are almost wholly 
 borrowed from the ancient city. Pillars, capitals, fragments 
 of cornices and entablatures abound. I noticed here, as in 
 A.dana, a high wooden frame on the top of every house, raised 
 a few steps above the roof, and covered with light muslin, like 
 a portable bathing-house. Here the people put up their beda 
 in the evening, sleep, and come down to the roofs in the morn- 
 ing an excellent plan for getting better air in these malarious 
 plains and escaping from fleas and mosquitoes. In our search 
 for the Armenian Church, which is said to have been founded 
 by St. Paul ("Saul of Tarsus"), we came upon a mosque, 
 which had been originally a Christian Church, of Greek times 
 From the top of a mound, whereupon stand the remains of an 
 ancient circular edifice, we obtained a fine view of the city and 
 plain of Tarsus. A few houses or clusters of houses stood 
 here and there like reefs amid the billowy green, and the mina- 
 rets one of them with a nest of young storks on its very 
 summit rose like the masts of sunken ships. Some palms 
 lifted their tufted heads from the gardens, beyond which the 
 great plain extended from the mountains to the sea. The 
 tumulus near Mersyn, the port of Tarsus, was plainly visible. 
 Two hours from Mersyn are the ruins of Pompeiopolis, the 
 name given by Pompey to the town of Soli, after his conquest 
 of the Cilician pirates. From Soli, on account of the bad
 
 234 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 Greek spoken by its inhabitants, came the term " solecism." 
 The ruins of Potnpeiopolis consist of a theatre, temples, and a 
 number of houses, still in good preservation. The whole 
 ^oast, as far as Aleya, three hundred miles west of this, is said 
 to abound with ruined cities, and I regret exceedingly that 
 time will not permit me to explore it. 
 
 While searching for the antiquities about Tarsus, I accosted 
 a man in a Frank dress, who proved to be the Neapolitan 
 Consul. He told us that the most remarkable relic was the 
 Duniktash (the Round Stone), and procured us a guide. It 
 lies in a garden near the city, and is certainly one of the most 
 remarkable monuments in the East. It consists of a square 
 iuclosure of solid masonry, 350 feet long by 150 feet wide, the 
 walls of which are eighteen feet in thickness and twenty feet 
 high. It appears to have been originally a solid mass, without 
 entrance, but a passage has been broken in one place, and in 
 another there is a split or fissure, evidently produced by an 
 earthquake. The material is rough stone, brick and mortar, 
 Inside of the inclosure are two detached square masses of 
 masonry, of equal height, and probably eighty feet on a side, 
 without opening of any kind. One of them has been pierced 
 at the bottom, a steep passage leading to a pit or well, but the 
 sides of the passage thus broken indicate that the whole struo 
 ture is one solid mass. It is generally supposed that they 
 were intended as tombs : but of whom ? There is no sign by 
 which they may be recognized, and, what is more singular, nc 
 tradition concerning them. 
 
 The day we reached Tarsus Vas the first of the Turkish fast- 
 month of Ramazau the inhabitants having seen t'le new moon 
 the night before. At Adana, where they did not keep such 8
 
 TEC MOON OF RAMAZAM 235 
 
 slose look-oat, the fast had not commenced. During its con 
 tinuance, which is from twenty-eight to twenty-nine days, ac 
 Mussulman dares eat, driuk, or smoke, from an hour before 
 sunrise till half an houi after sunset. The Mohammedup 
 months are lunar, and each month makes the whole round of 
 the seasons, once in thirty-three years. When, therefore, the 
 Ramazan comes in midsummer, as at present, the fulfilment of 
 this fast is a great trial, even to the strongest and most devout. 
 Eighteen hours without meat or drink, and what is still worse 
 to a genuine Turk, without a pipe, is a rigid test of faith. 
 The rich do the best they can to avoid it, by feasting all night 
 aud sleeping all day, but the poor, who must perform their 
 daily avocations, as usual, suffer exceedingly. In walking 
 through Tarsus I saw many wretched faces in the bazaars, and 
 the guide who accompanied us had a painfully famished air. 
 Fortunately the Koran expressly permits invalids, children, and 
 travellers to disregard the fast, so that although we eat and 
 drink when we like, we are none the less looked upon as good 
 Mussulmans. About dark a gun is fired and a rocket sent up 
 from the mosque, announcing the termination of the day's fast. 
 The meals are already prepared, the pipes filled, the coffee 
 smokes in the finjans, and the echoes have not died away nor 
 the last sparks of the rocket become extinct, before half the 
 inhabitants are satisfying their hunger, thirst and smoke-lust. 
 
 We left Tarsus this morning, aud are now encamped among 
 the pines of Mount Taurus. The last flush of sunset is fading 
 f ro::a his eternal snows, and I drop my pen to enjoy the silend 
 jf twilight in this mountain solitude.
 
 230 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE PASS OF MOUNT TAURUS. 
 
 We enter the Taurus Turcomans Forest Scenery the Palace of Pan Khan Meiar- 
 Ink Morning among the Mountains The Gorge of the Cydnus The Cra^ of th 
 Portress The Cilician Gate Deserted Forts A Sublime Landscape The Gorge of the 
 Silicon The Second Gate Camp in the Defile Sunrise Journey up the Sihoon A 
 Change of Scenery A Pastoral Valley Kolii Kushla A Deserted Khan A Guest In 
 Ramazan Flowers The Plain of Karamania Barren Hills The Town of Eregli- 
 The Hadji again. 
 
 " Lo ! where the pass expands 
 Its stony jaws, the abrupt mountain breaks, 
 And seems, with its accumulated crags, 
 To overhang the world." SHKLLKT. 
 
 ERBGU, in Karamania, Juneffi, 1801. 
 
 STRIKING our tetit in the gardens of Tarsus, we again crossed 
 the Cydnus, and took a northern course across the plaiu. The 
 long line of Taurus rose before us, seemingly divided into four 
 successive ranges, the highest of which was folded in clouds ; 
 only the long streaks of snow, filling the ravines, being visible. 
 The outlines of these ranges were very fine, the waving line 
 of the summits cut here and there by precipitous gorges the 
 gateways of rivers that came down to the plain. In about two 
 hours, we entered the lower hills. They are barren and stony, 
 with a white, chalky soil ; but the valleys were filled with 
 myrtle, oleander, and lanristinus in bloom, and lavender grew
 
 THE OLKAN1ER TURCOMANS. 231 
 
 h great profusion on the hill-sides. The flowers 'A the olean 
 der gave out a delicate, almond-like fragrance, and grew in 
 such dense clusters as frequently to hide the foliage. I amused 
 myself with finding a derivation of the name of this beautiful 
 plant, which may answer until somebody discovers a better one. 
 Hero, when the corpse of her lover was cast ashore by tin 
 waves, buried him under an oleander bush, where she was 
 accustomed to sit daily, and lament over his untimely fate. 
 Now, a foreign horticulturist, happening to pass by when the 
 shrub was in blossom, was much struck with its beauty, and 
 asked Hero what it was called. But she, absorbed in grief, 
 and thinking only of her lover, clasped her hands, and sighed 
 out : " Leander ! Leander !" which the horticulturist 
 immediately entered in his note-book as the name of the shrub ; 
 and by that name it is known, to the present time. 
 
 For two or three hours, the scenery was rather tame, the 
 higher summits being obscured with a thunder-cloud. Towards 
 noon, however, we passed the first chain, and saw, across a 
 strip of rolling land intervening, the grand ramparts of the 
 second, looming dark and large under the clouds. A circular 
 watch-tower of white stone, standing on the summit of a pro- 
 montory at the mouth of a gorge on our right, flashed out 
 boldly against the storm. We stopped under an oak-tree to 
 take breakfast ; but there was no water ; and two Turks, who 
 were resting while their horses grazed in the meadow, told us 
 we should find a good spring half a mile further. We ascended 
 a long slope, covered with wheat-fields, where numbers of Tur- 
 coman reapers were busy at work, passed their black tents, 
 surrounded with droves of sheep and gouts, and reached a rude 
 itoue fountain cf good water, where two companies of these
 
 238 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN 
 
 people had stopped to rest, on their way to the mom tains. It 
 was the time of noon prayer, and they went through theii 
 devotions with great solemnity. We nestled deep in a bed of 
 myrtles, while we breakfasted ; for the sky was clouded, and thf 
 wind blew cool and fresh from the region of rain above ua 
 Some of the Turcomans asked us for bread, and were very 
 grateful when we gave it to them. 
 
 In the afternoon, we came into a higher and wilder region, 
 where the road led through thickets of wild olive, holly, oak, 
 and lauristinus, with occasional groves of pine. What a joy I 
 felt in hearing, once more, the grand song of my favorite tree 1 
 Our way was a woodland road ; a storm had passed over the 
 region in the morning ; the earth was still fresh and moist, and 
 there was an aromatic smell of leaves in the air. We turned 
 westward into the entrance of a deep valley, over which hung 
 a perpendicular cliff of gray and red rock, fashioned by nature 
 so as to resemble a vast fortress, with windows, portals and 
 projecting bastions. Francois displayed his knowledge of 
 mythology, by declaring it to be the Palace of Pan. While 
 we were carrying Dut the idea, by making chambers for the 
 Fanns and Nymphs in the basement story of x ,he precipice, the 
 path wound around the shoulder of the moun'-ain, and the glen 
 spread away before us, branching op into 1 iftier ranges, dis- 
 closing through its gateway of cliffs, rising out of the steeps 
 of pine forest, a sublime vista of blue mountain peaks, climb 
 ing to the topmost snows. It was a magnificent Alpine land- 
 scape, more glowing and rich than Switzerland, yet equalling il 
 in all the loftier characteristics of mountain scenery. Anothei 
 and greater precipice towered over us on the right, and th( 
 black eagles which had made their eyries in its niched and
 
 KHAX MEZARLUK. 289 
 
 
 
 cavenied vaults, were wheeling around its crest. A branch of 
 the Cydnus foamed along the bottom of the gorge, and som 
 Turcoman boys were tending their herds on its banks. 
 
 Further up the glen, we found a fountain of delicious water, 
 beside the deserted Khan of Mezarluk, and there encamped 
 for the night. Our tent was pitched on the mountain side, 
 near a fountain of the coolest, clearest and sweetest water 1 
 have seen in all the East. There was perfect silence among 
 the mountains, and the place was as lonely as it was sublime. 
 The night was cool and fresh ; but I could not sleep until 
 towards morning. When I opened my belated eyes, the tall 
 peaks on the opposite side of the glen were girdled below their 
 waists with the flood of a sparkling sunrise. The sky was 
 pure as crystal, except a soft white fleece that veiled the snowy 
 pinnacles of Taurus, folding and unfolding, rising and sinking, 
 as if to make their beauty still more attractive by the partial 
 concealment. The morning air was almost cold, but so pure 
 and bracing so aromatic with the healthy breath of the pines 
 that I took it down in the fullest possible draughts. 
 
 We rode up the glen, following the course of the Cyduus, 
 through scenery of the wildest and most romantic character 
 The bases of the mountains were completely enveloped in 
 forests of pine, but their summits rose in precipitous crags, 
 many hundreds of feet in height, hanging above our very heads 
 Even after the sun was five hours high, their shadows fell npon 
 as from the opposite side of the glen. Mixed with the pine 
 irero occasional oaks, an undergrowth of hawthorn in bloom, 
 and shrubs covered with yellow and white flowers. O'er these 
 the wild grape threw its rich festoons, filling the air with 
 exquisite fragrance.
 
 Z4t THE LANDS OF THE BARACEW. 
 
 Out of this glen, we passed into another, still narrower and 
 wilder. The road was the old Roman way, and in tolerable 
 condition, though it had evidently not been mended for many 
 centuries. In half an hour, the pass opened, disclosing an 
 enormous peak in front of us, crowned with the ruins of an 
 ancient fortress of considerable extent. The position was 
 almost impregnable, the mountain dropping on one side into a 
 precipics five hundred feet in perpendicular height. Under 
 the cliffs of the loftiest ridge, there was a terrace planted with 
 walnut-trees : a charming little hamlet in the wilderness. Wild 
 sycamore-trees, with white trunks and bright green foliage, 
 shaded the foamy twists of the Cydnus, as it plunged down its 
 difficult bed. The pine thrust its roots into the naked preci- 
 pices, and from their summits hung out over the great abyswg 
 below. I thought of (Enone's 
 
 -" tall, dark pines, that fringed the craggy ledge 
 
 High over the blue gorge, and all between 
 The snowy peak and snow-white cataract 
 Fostered the callow eaglet ;" 
 
 and certainly she had on Mount Ida no more beautiful tree* 
 than these. 
 
 We had doubled the Crag of the Fortress, when the pass 
 closed before us, shut in by two immense precipices of sheer, 
 barren rock, more than a thousand feet in height. Vast frag- 
 ments, fallen from above, choked up the entrance, whence the 
 Cyduus, spouting forth in foam, leaped into the defile. The 
 ancient road was completely destroyed, but traces of it were 
 to be seen on the rocks, ten feet above the present bed of the 
 rtream, and on the broken ma ->:es which had been hurled below
 
 THE CILICIAN GATE. 241 
 
 The path wound with difficulty among these wrecks, and then 
 merged into the stream itself, as we entered the gateway. A 
 violent wind blew in our faces as we rode through the strait, 
 which is not ten yards in breadth, while its walls rise to the 
 rogion of the clouds. In a few minutes we had traversed it, 
 aad stood looking back on the ehormous gap. There were 
 several Greek tablets cut in the rock above the old road, but 
 so defaced as to be illegible. This is undoubtedly the princi- 
 pal gate of the Taurus, and the pass through which the armies 
 of Cyrus and Alexander entered Cilicia. 
 
 Beyond the gate the mountains retreated, and we climbed 
 up a little dell, past two or three Turcoman houses, to the top 
 of a hill, whence opened a view of the principal range, now 
 close at hand. The mountains in front were clothed with dark 
 cedars to their very tops, and the snow-fields behind them 
 seemed da/zlingly bright and near. Our course for several 
 miles now lay through a more open valley, drained by the 
 upper waters of the Cydnus. On two opposing terraces of 
 the mountain chains are two fortresses, built by Ibraham 
 Pasha, but now wholly deserted. They are large and well- 
 constructed works of stone, and surrounded by ruins of stables, 
 ovens, and the rude houses of the soldiery. Passing between 
 these, we ascended to the shelf dividing the waters of the 
 Cydnus and the Sihoon. From the point where the slope 
 descends to the latter river, there opened before me one of the 
 most glorious landscapes I ever beheld. J stood at the 
 extremity of a long hollow or depression between the two 
 ranges of the Taurus not a valley, for it was divided by deep 
 cloven chasms, hemmed in by steeps overgrown with cedars. 
 On my right rose a sublime chain, soaring far oat of the region 
 
 11
 
 242 TliE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 of trees, and lifting its peaked summits of gray rock into the 
 ?ky. Another chain, nearly as lofty, but not so broken, nor 
 with such large, imposing features, overhung me on the left ; 
 and far in front, filling up the magnificent vista filling up all 
 between the lower steeps, crowned with pine, and the roum' 
 rhite clouds hanging on the verge of heaven were the shining 
 snows of the Taurus. Great G<xl, how shall I describe the 
 grandeur of that view ! How draw the wonderful outlines of 
 those mountains ! How paint the airy hue of violet-gray, the 
 soft white lights, the thousandfold pencillings of mellow shadow, 
 the height, the depth, the far-reaching vastness of the land 
 scape ! 
 
 In the middle distance, a great blue gorge passed transversely 
 across the two ranges and the region between. This, as I 
 rightly conjectured, was the bed of the Sihoou. Our road led 
 downward through groves of fragrant cedars, and we travelled 
 thus for two hours before reaching the river. Taking a north 
 ward course up his banks, we reached the second of the Pylt 
 CilicuK before sunset. It is on a grander scale than the first 
 gate, though not so startling and violent in its features. The 
 bare walls on either side fall sheer to the water, and the road, 
 crossing the Sihoon by a lofty bridge of a single arch, is cut 
 along the face of the rock. Near the bridge a subterranean 
 stream, almost as large as the river, bursts forth from the solid 
 heart of the mountain. On either side gigantic masses of rock, 
 with here and there a pine to adorn their sterility, tower to 
 Jit height of 6,000 feet, in some places almost perpendicular 
 from summit to base. They are worn and broken into all 
 fantastic forms. There are pyramids, towers, bastions, mina- 
 ret*, and long, sharp spires, splintered and jagged as the tor
 
 SUNRISE IN THE PASS. 243 
 
 rets of an iceberg. I Lave seen higher mountaii s, but I have 
 never seen any which looked so high as these. We camped on 
 a narrow plot of ground, in the very heart of the tremendous 
 gorge. A soldier, passing along at dusk, told us that a mer 
 chant and his servant were murdered in the same place last 
 winter, and advised us to keep watch. But we slept safely all 
 night, while the stars sparkled over the chasm, and slips of 
 misty cloud hung low on the thousand pinnacles of rock 
 
 When I awoke, the gorge lay in deep shadow ; but high up 
 on the western mountain, above the enormous black pyramids 
 that arose from the river, the topmost pinnacles of rock 
 sparkled like molten silver, in the full gush of sunrise. The 
 great mountain, blocking up the gorge behind us, was bathed 
 almost to its foot in the rays, and, seen through such a dark 
 vista, was glorified beyond all other mountains of Earth. The 
 air was piercingly cold and keen, and I could scarcely bear the 
 water of the Silicon on my sun-inflamed face. There was a 
 little spring not far off, from which we obtained sufficient water 
 to drink, the river being too muddy. The spring was but a 
 thread oozing from the soil ; but the Hadji collected it in hand- 
 fuls, which he emptied into his water-skin, and then brought 
 to us. 
 
 The morning light gave a still finer effect to the manifold 
 forms of the mountains than that of the afternoon sun. The 
 soft gray hue of the rocks shone clearly against the cloudless 
 sky, fretted all over with the shadows thrown by their inm>. 
 merable spires and jutting points, and by the natural arches 
 acooped out under the cliffs. After travelling less than au 
 Hour, wo passed the riven walls of the mighty gateway, and 
 rode aeain under the shade of pine forests. The height of tfw
 
 244 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 mountains now gradually diminished, and *heir sides, covered 
 with pine and cedar, became less broken and abrupt. The 
 sumrrits, nevertheless, still retained the same rocky spine, 
 shooting np into tall, single towers, or long lines of even para- 
 pets Occasionally, through gaps between, we caught glimpses 
 of the snow-fields, dazzlingly high and white. 
 
 After travelling eight or nine miles, we emerged from the 
 pass, and left the Sihoori at a place called Chiftlik Khan a 
 stone building, with a small fort adjoining, wherein fifteen 
 splendid bronze cannon lay neglected on their broken and rot- 
 ting carriages. As we crossed the stone bridge over the river, 
 a valley opened suddenly on the left, disclosing the whole rangt 
 of the Taurus, which we now saw on its northern side, a vast 
 stretch of rocky spires, with sparkling snow-fields between, ano 
 long ravines filled with snow, extending far down between the 
 dark blue cliffs and the dark green plumage of the cedars. 
 
 Immediately after passing the central chain of the Taurus, 
 the character of the scenery changed. The heights were 
 rounded, the rocky strata only appearing on the higher peaks, 
 and the slopes of loose soil were deeply cut and scarred by the 
 rains of ages. Both in appearance, especially in the scattered 
 growth of trees dotted over the dark red soil, and in their for- 
 mation, these mountains strongly resemble the middle ranges 
 of the Californian Sierra Nevada. We climbed a long, winding 
 glen, until we had attained a considerable height, when the 
 read reached a dividing ridge, giving us a view of a deep 
 valley, beyond which a chain of barren mountains rose to the 
 height of some five thousand feet. As we descended the rocky 
 path, a little caravan of asses and mules clambered up to meet 
 as, along the brinks of steep gulfs. The narrow strip of
 
 A PASTORAL VALLEY. 245 
 
 bottom laud along the stream was planted with rye, now in 
 head, and rolling in silvery waves before the wind. 
 
 After our noonday halt, we went over the hills to anothe: 
 stream, which came from the north-west. Its valley wa 
 broader and greener than that we had left, and the hills iucl>* 
 ing it had soft and undulating outlines. They were bare of 
 trees, but colored a pale green by their thin clothing of grass 
 and herbs. In this valley the season was so late, owing to its 
 height above the sea, that the early spring-flowers were yet 
 in bloom. Poppies flamed among the wheat, and the banks ol 
 the stream were brilliant with patches of a creeping plant, 
 with a bright purple blossom. The asphodel grew in great 
 profusion, and nn ivy-leaved shrub, covered with flakes of white 
 oloom, made the air faint with its fragrance. Still further up. 
 we came to orchards of walnut and plum trees, and vineyards 
 There were no houses, but the iiumbitants, who were mostly 
 Turcomans, live in villages during the winter, and in summer 
 pitch their tents on the mountains where they pasture their 
 flocks. Directly over this quiet pastoral vale towered the 
 Taurus, and I looked at once on its secluded loveliness and on 
 the wintry heights, whose bleak and sublime heads were 
 mantled in clouds. From no point is there a more imposing 
 view of the whole snowy range. Near the head of the valley 
 we passed a large Turcoman encampment, surrounded with 
 herds of sheep and cattle. 
 
 We halted for the evening at a place called Kolu-Kushla 
 an immense fortress-village, resembling Baias, and like it, 
 wholly deserted. Near it there is a small town of very 
 neat houses, which is also deserted, the inhabitants having 
 gone into the mountains with their flocks. I walked througi
 
 246 THE LAN "6 OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 the fortress, #hich is a massive building of stone, about 50t 
 feet square, erected by Sultaa Murad as a restiug-place for the 
 caravans to Mecca. It has two spacious portals, in which the 
 iron doors are still hanging, connected by a vaulted passage, 
 twenty feet high and forty wide, with bazaars oil each side. 
 Side gateways open into large courts, surrounded with a-ched 
 chambers. There is a mosque entire, with its pulpit and 
 galleries, and the gilded cresceut still glittering over its dome 
 Behind it is a bath, containing an entrance hall and half a 
 dozen chambers, in which the water-pipes and stone tanks still 
 remain. With a little alteration, the building would make f> 
 capital Phalanstery, where the Fourierites might try theii 
 experiment without contact with Society. There is no field 
 for them equal to Abia Minor a glorious region, abounding in 
 natural wealth, almost depopulated, and containing a great 
 number of Phalansteries ready built. 
 
 We succeeded in getting some eggs, fowls, and milk from ar 
 old Turcoman who had charge of the village. A man who 
 rode by on a donkey sold us a bag of yaourt (sour milk-curds), 
 which was delicious, notwithstanding the suspicious appearance 
 of the bag. It was made before the cream had been removed, 
 and was very rich and nourishing. The old Turcoman sat 
 down and watched us while we ate, but would not join us, as 
 these wandering tribes are very strict in keeping Ramaz;in. 
 When we had reached our dessert a plate of fine cherries 
 another white-bearded and dignified gentleman visited us. We 
 handed him the cherries, expecting that lie would take a ie\\ 
 and politely return the dish : but no such thing. He coollj 
 produced his handkerchief, emptied everything into it, and 
 marched off He also did not venture to eat, although we
 
 THE PLAIN OF KARAMAN'IA. 241 
 
 pointed to the Taurus, on whose upper snows the last gleam ol 
 daylight was just melting away. 
 
 We arose this morning in a dark, cloudy dawn. There waa 
 a heavy black storm hanging low in the west, and another was 
 gathering its forces along the mountains behind us. A cold 
 wind blew down the valley, and long peals of thunder rolled 
 graudly among the gorges of Taurus. An isolated hill, 
 crowned with a shattered crag which bore a striking resem- 
 blance to a ruined fortress, stood out black and sharp against 
 the far, misty, sunlit peaks. As far as the springs were yet 
 nndried, the land was covered with flowers. In one place I 
 saw a large square plot of the most brilliant crimson hue, 
 burning amid the green wheat-fields, as if some Tyrian mantle 
 had been flung there. The long, harmonious slopes and 
 rounded summits of the hills were covered with drifts of a 
 beautiful pnrple clover, and a diminutive variety of the achillea, 
 or yarrow, with glowing yellow blossoms. The leaves had a 
 pleasant aromatic odor, and filled the air with their refreshing 
 breath, as they were crushed under the hoofs of our horses. 
 
 We had now reached the highest ridge of the hilly country 
 along the northern base of Taurus, and saw, far and wide 
 before us, the great central plain of Karamania. Two isolated 
 mountains, at forty or fifty miles distance, broke the monotony 
 of the desert-like level : Kara Dagh in the west, and the snow- 
 capped summits of Hassan Dagh in the north-east. Beyond 
 thu latter, we tried to catch a glimpse of the famous Mons 
 Argaeus, at the base of which is Kaisariyeh, the ancient Caesarea 
 of Cappadocia. This mountain, which is 13,000 feet high, ifl 
 the loftiest peak of Asia Minor. The clouds hung low on the 
 horizon, aud the rains were falling, veiling it from our sight
 
 248 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 Our road, for the remainder of the day, was jver barren 
 hills, covered with scanty herbage. The sun shone out intense- 
 ly hot, and the glare of the white soil was exceedingly painful 
 to my eyes. The locality of Eregli was betrayed, some time 
 before we reached it, by its dark-green belt of fruit trees It 
 stands in the mouth of a narrow valley which winds down 
 from the Taurus, and is watered by a large rapid stream that 
 finally loses itself in the lakes and morasses of the plain. 
 There had been a heavy black thunder-cloud gathering, and as 
 we reached our camping-ground, under some fine walnut-trees 
 near the stream, a sudden blast of cold wind swept over the 
 town, filling the air with dust. We pitched the tent in all 
 haste, expecting a storm, but the rain finally passed to 
 the northward. We then took a walk through the town, 
 which is a forlorn place. A spacious khan, built apparently 
 for the Mecca pilgrims, is in ruins, but the mosque has an 
 exquisite minaret, eighty feet high, and still bearing traces of 
 the devices, in blue tiles, which once covered it. The shops 
 were mostly closed, and in those which were still open the 
 owners lay at full length on their bellies, their faces gaunl 
 with fasting. They seemed annoyed at our troubling them, 
 even with purchases. One would have thought that some 
 fearful pestilence had fallen upon the town. The cobblers 
 only, who somewhat languidly plied their implements, seamed 
 to retain a little life. The few Jews and Armenians smoked 
 their pipes in a tantalizing manner, in the very faces of the 
 poor Mussulmans. We bought an oka of excellent cherries, 
 which we were cruel enough to taste in the streets, before th 
 hungry eyes of the suffering merchants. 
 
 This evening the asses belonging to A he place were driven U
 
 A DERVISH. 849 
 
 from pasture four or five hundred iu all ; and such a show o; 
 curious asinine specimens as I never before beheld. A Dervish, 
 who was with us in Quarantine, at Adana, lias just arrived. He 
 had lost his teskere (passport), and on issuing forth purified 
 was cast into prison. Finally he found some one who knew 
 him, and procured his release. He had come on foot to this 
 placf in five days, suffering many privations, having been forty 
 eight hours without food. He is bound to Kouia, on a pil 
 grimage to the tomb uf Hazret Mevlana, the founder of the 
 sect of dancing Dervishes. We gave him food, iu return for 
 which he taught me the formula of his prayers. He tells me J 
 should always pronounce the name of Allah when my horse 
 stumbles, or I see a man in danger of his life, as the wor 1 has 
 a saving power. Hadji Youssuf, who has just been begging 
 for an advance of twenty piastres to buy grain for his horses, 
 swore " by the pardon of God " that he would sell the lame 
 horse at Konia and get a better one. Wf have lost all confi- 
 dence in the old villain's promises, but the poor beasts shall 
 not suffer for his delinquencies. 
 
 Our tent is in a charming spot, and, from without, makes a 
 picture to be remembered. The yellow illumination from 
 within strikes on the under sides of the walnut boughs, while 
 the moonlight silvers them from above. Beyond gardens 
 where the nightingales are singing, the tall minaret of Eregli 
 stands revealed in the vapory glow. The night is too sweet 
 and balmy for sleep, and yet I must close my eyes upon it, few 
 the hot plains of Karamauia await us to-morrow. 
 
 U*
 
 THE LANDS Of THE 1 SARACJZV. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THR PLAINS OF KARAMANIA. 
 
 rbe Plata* of Karatnama Afternoon Heat A Well Volcanic Phenomena- Kara 
 aounar A Grand Ruined Khan Moonlight Picture A Landscape of the Plalnn- 
 Mirages A Short Interview The Village of Ismil Third Day on the Plains- 
 Approach to Konia. 
 
 " A weary waste, expanding to the skies." GOLDSMITH. 
 
 KONIA, Capital of Karamania, Friday, June 26, 1854. 
 
 FRANCOIS awoke us at the break of day, at Eregli, as we 
 had a journey of twelve hours before us. Passing through the 
 town, we traversed a narrow belt of garden and orchard land, 
 and entered the great plain of Karamania. Our road led at 
 first northward towards a range called Karadja Dagh, and 
 then skirted its base westward. After three hours' travel we 
 passed a village of neat, whitewashed houses, which were 
 entirely deserted, all the inhabitants having gone off to the 
 mountains. There were some herds scattered over the plain, 
 near the village. As the day wore on, the wind, which had 
 been chill in the morning, ceased, and the air became hot and 
 sultry. The glare from the white soil was so painful ihat 1 
 was obliged to close my eyes, and so ran a continual risk of 
 falling asleep and tumbling from my horse. Thus, drowsy and 
 hall' unconscious of rny whereabouts, T rode on in the heat anc
 
 VOLCANIC PUENOMKNA. 351 
 
 arid silence of the plain until noon, when we reached a well 
 It was a shaft, sunk about thirty feet deep, with a long, slop 
 Ing gallery slanting off to the surface. The well was nearly 
 dry, but by descending the gallery we obtained a sufficient 
 supply of cold, pure water. We breakfasted in the shaded 
 doorway, sharing our provisions with a Turcoman boy, whc 
 was accompanying his father to Eregli with a load of salt 
 
 Our road now crossed a long, barren pass, between two 
 parts of Karadja Dagh. Near the northern side there was a 
 salt lake of one hundred yards in diameter, sunk in a deep 
 uatural basin. The water was intensely saline. On the other 
 side of the road, and a quarter of a mile distant, is an extinct 
 volcano, the crater of which, near two hundred feet deep, is a 
 salt lake, with a trachytic cone three hundred feet high rising 
 from the centre. From the slope of the mountain we over- 
 looked another and somewhat deeper plain, extending to the 
 north and west. It was bounded by broken peaks, all of 
 
 which betrayed a volcanic origin. Far before as we saw the, 
 
 
 tower on the hill of Kara-bouuar, our resting-place for the 
 
 night. The road thither was over a barren plain, cheered here 
 and there by patches of a cushion-like plant, which was covered 
 with pink blossoms. Mr. Harrison scared up some coveys of 
 the fraukolin, a large bird resembling the pheasant, and 
 enriched our larder with a dozen starlings. 
 
 Kara-bouuar is built on the slope of a mound, at the foot of 
 which stands a spacious mosque, visible far over the plain. It 
 has a dome, and t\vo tall, pencil-like towers, similar to those of 
 the Citadel-mosque of Cairo. Xear it are tne remains of a 
 magnificent khan-fortress, said to nave oeen ouilt by we eunuch 
 of one of the former Suit;ms. As tnere was no water in th*
 
 252 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 wells outside of the town, we eutered the khan and pitched Uu 
 tent in its grass-grown court Six square pillars of hewn stone 
 made an aisle to our door, and the lofty, roofless walls of the 
 court, 100 by 150 feet, inclosed us. Another court, of similai 
 size, communicated with it by a broad portal, and the remains 
 of baths and bazaars lay beyond. A handsome stone fountain, 
 with two streams of running water, stood in front of the khan 
 We were royally lodged, but almost starved in our splendor, 
 as only two or' three Turcomans remained out of two thousand 
 (who had gone off with their herds to the mountains), and they 
 were unable to furnish us with provisions. But for our franko- 
 lius and starlings we should have gone fasting. 
 
 The mosque was a beautiful structure of white limestone, 
 and the galleries of its minarets were adorned with rich ara- 
 besque ornaments. While the muezzin was crying his sunset 
 call to prayer, I entered the portico and looked into the inte 
 dor, which was so bare as to appear incomplete. As we sat 
 in our palace-court, after dinner, the moon arose, lighting up 
 the niches in the walls, the clusters of windows in the immense 
 eastern gable, and the rows of massive columns. The large 
 dimensions of the building gave it a truly grand effect, and but 
 for the whine of a distant jackal I could have believed that we 
 were sitting in the aisles of a roofless Gotiuc cathedral, in the 
 'leart of Europe. Francois was somewhat fearful of thieves 
 out the peace and repose of the place were so perfect that 1 
 would not allow any such apprehensions to disturb me. In 
 two minutes after I touched my bed I was insensible, and I did 
 Dot move a limb until sunrise. 
 
 Beyond Kara-bounar, there is a low, barren ridge, climbing 
 which, we overlooked an immense plain, uncultivated, appa-
 
 MIRAGES. 253 
 
 rently unfertile, and without a sign of life as far as the eyt 
 could reach. Kara Dagh, in the south, lifted nearer us its cluster 
 of dark summits ; to the north, the long ridge of Usedjik Dagh 
 (the Pigmy Mountain) stretched like a cape into the plain ; 
 Hassan Dagh, wrapped in a soft white cloud, receded behind 
 us, and the snows of Taurus seemed almost as distant as when 
 we first beheld them from the Syrian Gates. We rode for four 
 hours over the dead level, the only objects that met our eyes 
 being an occasional herd of camels in the distance. About 
 noon, we reached a well, similar to that of the previous day, 
 but of recent construction. A long, steep gallery led down to 
 the water, which was very cold, but had a villainous taste of 
 lime, salt, and sulphur. 
 
 After an hour's halt, we started again. The sun was 
 intensely hot, and for hours we jogged on over the dead level, 
 the bare white soil blinding our eyes with its glare. The dis- 
 tant hills were lifted above the horizon by a mirage. Long 
 sheets of blue water were spread along their bases, islanding 
 the isolated peaks, and turning into ships and boats the black 
 specks of camels far away. But the phenomena were by no 
 means on so grand a scale as I had seen in the Nubian Desert. 
 On the south-western horizon, we discerned the summits of the 
 Karaman range of Taurus, covered with snow. In the middle 
 of the afternoon, we saw a solitary tent upon the plain, from 
 which an individual advanced to meet as. As he drew nearer 
 we noticed that he wore white Frank pantaloons, similar to the 
 Turkish soldiery, with a jacket of brown cloth, and a heavj 
 sabre. When he was within convenient speaking distance, li 
 cried out : " Stop ' why are you running away from me ?'' 
 '' What do yon call running away ?'' rejoined Francois ; " we
 
 254 THK LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 are going on our journey." " Where do you couie from ?" he 
 then asked. " From there," said Fraugois, pointing behind us 
 " Where are you going ?" " There 1" and the provoking Greek 
 simply pointed forwards. " You have neither faith nor reli- 
 gion !" said the man, indignantly ; then, turning upon his heel, 
 he strode back across the plaiu. 
 
 About four o'clock, we saw a long Hue of objects rising 
 before us, but so distorted by the mirage that it was impossible 
 to know what they were. After a while, however, we decided 
 that they were houses interspersed with trees ; but the trees 
 proved to be stacks of hay and lentils, heaped on the flat roofs 
 This was Ismil, our halting-place. The houses were miserable 
 mud huts ; but the village was large, and, unlike most of those 
 we have seen this side of Taurus, inhabited. The people are 
 Turcomans, and their possessions appear to be almost entirely 
 in their herds. Immense numbers of sheep and goats were 
 pasturing on the plain. .There were several wells in the place, 
 provided with buckets attached to long swing-poles ; the water 
 was very cold, but brackish. Our tent was pitched on the 
 plain, on a hard, gravelly strip of soil. A crowd of wild-haired 
 Turcoman boys gathered in front, to stare at us, and the shep- 
 herds quarrelled at the wells, as to which should take his turu 
 at watering his flocks. In the e\euing a handsome old Turk 
 visited us, and, finding that we were bound to Constantinople, 
 requested Franjois to take a letter to his son, who was settled 
 there. 
 
 Francois aroused us this morning before the dawn, as we 
 had a journey of thirty-five miles before us. He was in a bad 
 humor ; for a man, whom he had requested to keep watch ovei 
 'us tent, while he went into the village, had stolen a fork and
 
 APPROACH TO RONIA, 255 
 
 spoon. The old Tark, who had returned as soon as we wew 
 stirring, went out to hunt the thief, but did not succeed in 
 finding him. The inhabitants of the village were up long 
 before sunrise, and driving away in their wooden-wheeled carts 
 to the meadows where they cut grass. The old Turk accom 
 panied us some distance, in order to show ns a nearer way, 
 avoiding a marshy spot. Our road lay over a vast plain, seem- 
 ingly boundless, for the lofty mountain-ranges that surrounded 
 it on all sides were so distant and cloud-like, and so lifted from 
 the horizon by the deceptive mirage, that the eye did not 
 recognize their connection with it. The wind blew strongly 
 from the north-west, and was so cold that I dismounted and 
 walked ahead for two or three hours. 
 
 Before noon, we passed two villages of mud huts, partly 
 inhabited, and with some wheat-fields around them. We 
 breakfasted at another well, which furnished us with a drink 
 that tasted like iced sea-water. Thence we rode forth again 
 into the heat, for the wind had fallen by this time, and the sun 
 ehone out with great force. There was ever the same dead 
 level, and we rode directly towards the mountains, which, to 
 ray eyes, seemed nearly as distant as ever At last, there was 
 a dark glimmer through the mirage, at their base, and a half- 
 hour's ride showed it to be a line of trees. In another hour, 
 we could distinguish a minaret or two, and finally, walls and 
 the atate.y domes of mosques. This was Konia, the andeu* 
 loouium, one of the most renowned cities of Asia Minor.
 
 S56 /HE uANDS OF THE SARACKft 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 SCENES IN KONIA 
 
 &ppro*ch to Konia i'omb of Hazret Mevlana Lodgings in a Khan An 
 Luxury A Night-Scene in Ramazan Prayers In the Mosque Romaics of th4 
 Ancient City View from the Mosque The Interior A Leaning Minaret Tb 
 Diverting History of the Muleteers. 
 
 " But they shook off the dust 01 their feet, and came unto Iconiura." ACTS, xm. 61 
 
 KONIA (Ancient Iconium), June 2T, 1852. 
 
 THE view of Konia from the plain is not striking until one has 
 approached within a mile of the suburbs, when the group of 
 mosques, with their heavy central domes lifted on clusters of 
 smaller ones, and their tall, light, glittering minarets, rising 
 above the foliage of the gardens, against the background of 
 airy hills, has a very pleasing effect. We approached through 
 a long line of dirty suburbs, which looked still more forlorn on 
 account of the Ramazan. Some Turkish officials, in shabby 
 Frank dresses, followed us to satisfy their curiosity by talkiug 
 with our Katurjees, or muleteers. Outside the city walls, we 
 passed some very large barracks for cavalry, built by Ibrahim 
 Pasha. On the plain north-east of the city, the battle between 
 him and the forces of the Sultan, resulting in the defeat of the 
 tter, was fought. 
 
 We next came upon two magnificent mosques, built of whitf
 
 THE TOMB OF HAZRET MEVLANA. 251 
 
 limestone, with a multitude of leaden domes and *ofty minarets, 
 adorned with galleries rich in arabesque ornaments. Attached 
 to one of them is the tomb of Hazret Mevlana, the founder of 
 the sect of Mevlevi Dervishes, which is reputed one of the 
 most sacred places in the East. The tomb is surmounted by a 
 tlome, upon which stands a tall cylindrical tower, reeded, with 
 channels between each projection, and terminating in a long, 
 tapering cone. This tower is made of glazed tiles, of the most 
 brilliant sea-blue color, and sparkles in the sun like a vast pillar 
 of icy spar in some Polar grotto. It is a most striking and 
 fantastic object, surrounded by a cluster of minarets and several 
 cypress-trees, amid which it seems placed as the central orna- 
 ment and crown of the group. 
 
 The aspect of the city was so filthy and uninviting that we 
 preferred pitching our tent ; but it was impossible to find a 
 place without going back upon the plain ; so we turned into 
 the bazaar, and asked the way to a khan. There was a toler- 
 able crowd in the street, although many of the shops were shut. 
 The first khan we visited was too filthy to enter ; but the 
 second, though most unpromising in appearance, turned out to 
 be better than it looked. The oda-bashi (master of the rooms) 
 thoroughly swept and sprinkled the narrow little chamber he 
 gave us, laid clean mats upon the floor, and, when our carpets 
 and beds were placed within, its walls of mud looked somewhat 
 comfortable. Its single window, with an iron grating iu lieu of 
 glass, looked upon an oblong court, on the second story, sur 
 rounded by the rooms of Armenian merchants. The main 
 court (the gate of which is always closed at sunset) is two 
 stories in height, with a rough wooden balcony running around 
 It, and a well of muddy water in the centre.
 
 258 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEV. 
 
 The oda-bashi lent us a Turkish table aud supplied us with 
 dinner from his own kitchen; kibabs, stewed beans, and cucom 
 ber salad. Mr. H, and I, forgetting the Ramazan, went Out 
 to hunt foi an iced sherbet; but all the coffee-shops were closed 
 until sunset. The people stared at our Egyptian costumes, 
 and a fellow in official dress demanded my teska e. Soon after 
 we returned, Francois appeared with a splendid lump of ice in 
 A basin and some lemons. The ice, so the khangee. said, is 
 taken from a lake among the mountains, which in winter 
 freezes to the thickness of a foot. Behind the lake is a natural 
 cavern, which the people fill with ice, and then close up. At 
 this season they take it out, day by day, and bring it down to 
 the city. It is very pure and thick, and justifies the Turkish 
 proverb in regard to Konia, which is celebrated for three 
 excellent things : " dooz, booz, kuz " salt, ice, and girls. 
 
 Soon after sunset, a cannon announced the close of the tast. 
 We waited an hour or two longer, to allow the people time to 
 eat, and then sallied out into the streets. Every minaret in 
 the city blazed with a crown of lighted lamps around its upper 
 gallery, while the long shafts below, and the tapering cones 
 above, topped with brazen crescents, shone fair in the moon- 
 light. It was a strange, brilliant spectacle. In the square 
 before the principal mosque we found a crowd of persons 
 frolicking around the fountain, in the light of a number of 
 torches on poles planted in the ground. Mats were spread on 
 the stones, aud rows of Turks of all classes sat thereon, smok 
 ing their pipes. Large earthea water-jars stood here aud there, 
 and the people drank so often and so long that they seemed 
 determined to provide against the morrow. The boys were 
 having their amusement in wrcst'ing, shouting and 'iriiuf off
 
 A NIGHT-SCEHE IN RAMAZAN. 868 
 
 aquibs, which they threw into the crowd. We kicked off om 
 slippers, sat down among the Turks, smoked a narghileh 
 drank a cup of coffee and an iced sherbet of raisin juice, and 
 enjoyed the Ramazan as well as the best of them. 
 
 Numbers of True Believers were drinking and washing them 
 selves at the picturesque fountain, and just as we rose tc 
 depart, the voice of a boy-muezzin, on one of the tallest mina- 
 rets, sent down a musical call to prayer. Immediately the boys 
 left off their sports and started on a run for the great mosque, 
 and the grave, gray-bearded Turks got up from the mats, 
 shoved on their slippers, and marched after them. We fol 
 lowed, getting a glimpse of the illuminated interior of the 
 building, as we passed; but the oda-bashi conducted us still 
 further, to a smaller though more beautiful mosque, surrounded 
 with a garden-court. It was a truly magical picture. We 
 entered the gate, and passed on by a marble pavement, under 
 trees and arbors of vines that almost shut out the moonlight, 
 to a paved space, in the centre whereof was a beautiful foun- 
 tain, in the purest Saracenic style. Its heavy, projecting cor- 
 nices and tall pyramidal roof rested on a circle of elegant 
 irches, surrounding a marble structure, whence the water 
 gushed forth in a dozen sparkling streams. On three sides it 
 was inclosed by the moonlit trees and arbors ; on the fourth 
 by the outer corridor of the mosque, the door of entrance being 
 txactly opposite. 
 
 Large numbers of persons were washing their hands and feet 
 at the fountain, after which they entered and knelt on the 
 floor. We stood unobserved in the corridor, and looked in on 
 the splendidly illuminated interior and the crowd at prayer, aT 
 bending their bodies to the earth at regular intervals and mnr
 
 260 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN 
 
 muring the name of Allah. They resembled a plain of recde 
 bending before the gusts of wind which precede a storm 
 When all had entered and were united in solemn prayer, we 
 returned, passing the grand mosque. I stole up to the doot ; 
 lifted the heavy carpet that hung before it, and looked in. 
 There was a Mevlevi Dervish standing in the entrance, but hie 
 eyes were lifted in neavenly abstraction, and he did not see me. 
 The interior was brilliantly lit by white and colored lamps, 
 suspended from the walls and the great central dome. It was 
 an imposing structure, simple in form, yet grand from its 
 dimensions. The floor was covered with kneeling figures, and 
 a deep voice, coming from the other end of the mosque, was 
 uttering pious phrases in a kind of chant. I satisfied my curi- 
 osity quickly, and we then returned to the khan. 
 
 Yesterday afternoon I made a more thorough examination 
 of the city. Passing through the bazaars, I reached the Serai, 
 or Pasha's Palace, which stands on the site of that of the Sul- 
 tans of loonium. It is a long, wooden building, with no pre- 
 tensions to architectural beauty. Near it there is a large and 
 ancient mosque, with a minaret of singular elegance. It is 
 about 1 20 feet high, with two hanging galleries ; the whole 
 built of blue and red bricks, the latter projecting so as to 
 form quaint patterns or designs. Several ancient buildings 
 near this mosque are surmounted with pyramidal towers, 
 resembling Pagodas of India. Following the long, crooked 
 lanes between mud buildings, we passed these curious struc- 
 tures and reached the ancient wall of the city. In one 
 of the streets lay a marble lion, badly executed, and appa- 
 rently of the time of the Lower Empire. In the wall were 
 Inserted many similar figures, with fragments of friezes and
 
 VIEW FROM THE MOSQTTE. 2(51 
 
 cornices. This is the work of the Seljook Kings, who, in build 
 ing the wall, took great pains to exhibit the fragments of the 
 ancient city. The number of altars they have preserved is 
 quite remarkable. On the square towers are sunken tablets, 
 containing long Arabic inscriptions. 
 
 The high walls of a ruined building in the southern part of 
 the city attracted us, and on going thither we found it *o be 
 an ancient mosque, standing on an eminence formed apparently 
 of the debris of other buildings. Part of the wall was alsc 
 ancient, and in some places showed the marks of an earth 
 quake. A long flight of steps led up to the door of the 
 mosque, and as we ascended we were rewarded by the most 
 charming view of the city and the grand plain. Konia lay at 
 our feet a wide, straggling array of low mud dwellings, 
 dotted all over with patches of garden verdure, while its three 
 superb mosques, with the many smaller tombs and places of 
 worship, appeared like buildings left from some former and 
 more magnificent capital Outside of this circle ran a belt of 
 garden land, adorned with groves and long lines of fruit trees ; 
 Btill further, the plain, a sea of faded green, flecked with the 
 softest cloud-shadows, and beyond all, the beautiful outlines 
 and dreamy tints of the different mountain chains. It was in 
 every respect a lovely landscape, and the city is unworthy 
 such surroundings. The sky, which in this region is of a pale, 
 soft, delicious blue, was dotted with scattered fleeces of whit 
 clouds, and there was an exquisite play of light and shade over 
 the hills. 
 
 There were half a dozen men and boys about the door, 
 amusing themselves with bursting percussion caps on the 
 stone. They addressed us as "hadn!" (pilgrims), begging
 
 262 THE LANDS 0? THE SARACEN. 
 
 for more caps. I told them I was not a Turk, bat an Arab 
 which they believed at once, and requested me to enter the 
 mosque. The interior had a remarkably fine effect. It was 
 maze of arches, supported by columns of polished black mar- 
 ble, forty in number. In' form it was nearly square, and 
 covered with a flat, wooden roof. The floor was covered with 
 a carpet, whereon several persons were lying at full length, 
 while an old man, seated in one of the most remote corners, 
 wab reading in a loud, solemn voice. It is a peculiar struc- 
 ture, which I should be glad to examine more in detail. 
 
 Not far from this eminence is a remarkable leaning minaret, 
 more than a hundred feet in height, while in diameter it can- 
 not be more than fifteen feet. In design it is light and ele- 
 gant, and the effect is not injured by its deviation from the 
 perpendicular, which I should judge to be about six feet. 
 From the mosque we walked over the mounds of old Iconium 
 to the eastern wall, passing another mosque, wholly in ruin, 
 but which must have once been more splendid than any now 
 standing. The portal is the richest specimen of Saracenic 
 sculpture I have ever seen : a very labyrinth of intricate orna- 
 ments. The artist must have seen the great portal of the 
 Temple of the Sun at Baalbec. The minarets have tumbled 
 down, the roof has fallen in, but the walls are still covered 
 with white and blue tiles, of the finest workmanship, resembling 
 a mosaic of ivory and lapis lazuli. Some of the chambers 
 seem to be inhabited, for two old men with white beards lay 
 in the shade, and were cot a little startled by oar suddei 
 appearance. 
 
 We returned to the great mosque, which we had visited on th 
 evening of our arrival, and listened for some time to the voie
 
 fHE MULETEEK3. 463 
 
 jf a mollah who was preaching an afternoon sermou to a small 
 and hungry congregation. We then entered the court before 
 the tomb of Hazret Mevlana. It was apparently forbidder 
 ground to Christians, but as the Dervishes did not seea to sus- 
 pect us we walked about boldly, and were about to enter, whet 
 an indiscretion of my companion frustrated our plans. For 
 getting his assumed character, he went to the fountain and 
 drank, although it was no later than the asser, or afternoon 
 prayer. The De-rvishes were shocked and scandalized by this 
 violation of the fast, in the very court-yard of their holiest 
 mosque, and we judged it best to retire by degrees. We sent 
 this morning to request an interview with the Pasha, but he 
 had gone to pass the day in a country palace, about three 
 hours distant. It is a still, hot, bright afternoon, and the 
 silence of the famished populace disposes us to repose. Our 
 riew is bounded by the mud walls of the khan, and I already 
 long for the freedom of the great Karamanian Plain. Here, 
 in the heart of Asia Minor, all life seems to stagnate. There 
 is sleep everywhere, and I feel that a wide barrier separates 
 me from the living world. 
 
 We have been detained here a whole day, through a chain 
 of accidents, all resulting from the rascality of our muleteers 
 on leaving Aleppo. The lame horse they palmed upon us was 
 inable to go further, so we obliged them to buy another ani- 
 mal, which they succeeded in getting for 350 piastres. We 
 advanced the money, although they were still in our debt, 
 hoping to work our way through with the new horse, and thai 
 ivoid the risk of loss or delay But this morning at sunrise 
 Hadji Youssuf comes with a woeful face to say that the new 
 horse has been stolen in the night, and we, who are ready tc
 
 264 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 start, must sit down and wait till he is recovered. I suspected 
 another trick, but when, after the lapse of three hours, Fran 
 c,ois found the hadji sitting on the ground, weeping, and Achmet 
 beating his breast, it seemed probable that the story was true. 
 All search for the horse being vain, Frangois went with them 
 to the shekh of the horses, who promised, in case it should 
 hereafter be found, to place it in the general pen, where they 
 would be sure to get it on their return. The man who sold 
 them the horse offered them another for the lame one and 150 
 piastres, and there was no other alternative but to accept it. 
 But we must advance the 150 piastres, and so, in mid-journey, 
 we have already paid them to the end, with the risk of their 
 horses breaking down or they, horses and all, absconding from 
 us. But the knavish varlets are hardly bold enough tor such 
 i climax of villany.
 
 SCBNKBT OF THE HELLS. 2Go 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE HEART OF ASIA MINOR. 
 
 >necety -I * Hills Ladik, the Ancient Laodicea The Plague of Gad-Flies Clamp at 
 Ilgiiu A natural Warm Bath The Gad-Flies Again A Summer Landscape Ak 
 gheher ihe Base of Sultan Dagh The Fountain of Midas A Drowsy Journey 
 the Town of Bolawadfln. 
 
 " By the forests, lakes, and fountains, 
 Though the many-folded mountains." SHBLUY. 
 
 BOLAWADCH, July 1, 1869. 
 
 OUR men brought all the beasts into the court-yard of the 
 khan at Konia, the evening before our departure, so that no 
 more were stolen during the night. The oda-bashi, indefatiga- 
 ble to the last in his attention to us, not only helped load 
 the mules but accompanied us some distance on our way. All 
 the merchants in the khan collected in the gallery to see us 
 start, and we made our exit in some state. The morning was 
 clear, fresh, and delightful. Turning away from the city walls, 
 we soon emerged from the lines of fruit-trees and interminable 
 fields of tomb-stones, and came out upon the great bare plain 
 of Karamania. A ride of three hours brought us to a long, 
 sloping hill, which gave us a view of the whole plain, and it# 
 circuit of mountains. A dark line in the distance marked the 
 gardens of Konia. On the right, near the centre of the plain, 
 
 12
 
 266 TI1K LANDS OF THK 8ARACKN. 
 
 the lake, now contracted to very narrow limits, glimmered in 
 the sun. Notwithstanding the waste and unfertile appearance 
 of the country, the soft, sweet sky that hangs over it, the 
 pore, transparent air, the grand sweep of the plain, and the 
 varied forms of the different mountain chains that encompass 
 it, make our journey an inspiring one. A descent of the hills 
 soon shut out the view ; and the rest of the day's journey lay 
 among them, skirting the eastern base of Allah Dagh. 
 
 The country improved in character, as we advanced. The 
 bottoms of the dry glens were covered with wheat, and shrub- 
 bery began to make its appearance on the mountain-sides lu 
 the afternoon, we crossed a watershed, dividing Karamania 
 from the great central plain of Asia Minor, and descended to a 
 village called Ladik, occupying the site of the ancient Laodi- 
 cea, at the foot of A.llah Dagh. The plain upon which we came 
 was greener and more flourishing than that we had left. Trees 
 were scattered here and there in clumps, and the grassy wastes, 
 stretching beyond the grain-fields, were dotted with herds of 
 cattle. Emir Dagh stood in the north-west, blue and distant 
 while, towards the north and north-east, the plain extended tc 
 the horizon a horizon fifty miles distant without a break 
 In that direction lay the great salt lake of Yiizler, and the 
 strings of camels we met on the road, laden with salt, were 
 returning from it. Ladik is surrounded with poppy-fields, bril 
 liant with white and purple blossoms. When the petals have 
 fallen, the natives go carefully over the whole field and make 
 inoisiofis in every stalk, whence the opium exudes. 
 
 We pitched our tent under a large walnut tree, which we 
 found standing in a deserted inclosure. The graveyard of the 
 village is studded with relics of the ancient town. There art
 
 THE ANCIENT LAODICKA. 261 
 
 pillars, cornices, entablatures, jambs, altars, mullious ami; 
 sculptured tablets, all of white marble, and many of them ip 
 an excellent state of preservation. They appear to date from 
 ihe early time of the Lower Empire, and the cross has not yet 
 been effaced from some which serve as head-stones for the Truo 
 Believers. I was particularly struck with the abundance of 
 altars, some of which contained entire and legible inscriptions. 
 In the town there is the same abundance of ruins. The lid 
 of a sarcophagus, formed of a single block of marble, now 
 serves as a water-trough, and the fountain is constructed of 
 ancient tablets. The town stands on a mound which appears 
 to be composed entirely of the debris of the former place, and 
 near the summit there are many holes which the inhabitants 
 have dug in their search for rings, seals and other relics. 
 
 The next day we made a journey of nine hours over a hilly 
 country lying between the ranges of Allah Dagh and Emir 
 Dagh. There were wells of excellent water along the road, at 
 intervals of an hour or two. The day was excessively hot and 
 sultry during the noon hours, and the flies were so bad as to 
 give great inconvenience to our horses. The animal I bestrode 
 kicked so incessantly that I could scarcely keep my seat. His 
 belly was swollen and covered with clotted blood, from their 
 bites. The hadji's mule began to show symptoms of illness, 
 and we had great difficulty in keeping it on its legs. Mr. 
 Harrison bled it in the mouth, as a last resource, and during 
 the afternoon it partly recovered. 
 
 An hour before sunset we reached Ilgiin, a town on the 
 plain, at the foot of one of the spurs of Emir Dagh. To the 
 west of it there is a lake of considerable size, which receives 
 he streams that flow thronjrh the town and water its fertiU
 
 268 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN 
 
 gaidens. We passed through the town and pitched our tent 
 upon a beautiful grassy meadow. Our customary pipe of 
 refreshment was never moi e heartily enjoyed than at this place. 
 Behind us was a barren hill, at the foot of which was a natural 
 hot bath, wherein a number of women and children were 
 amusing themselves. The afternoon heat had passed away, the 
 air was calm, sweet, and tempered with the freshness of coming 
 evening, and the long shadows of the hills, creeping over the 
 meadows, had almost reached the town. Beyond the line of 
 sycamore, poplar and fig-trees that shaded the gardens of 
 Ilgiin, rose the distant chain of Allah Dagh, and in the pale- 
 blue sky, not far above it, the dim face of the gibbous moon 
 showed like the ghost of a planet. Our horses were feeding 
 on the green meadow; an old Turk sat beside us, silent with 
 fasting, and there was no sound but the shouts of the children 
 in the bath. Such hours as these, after a day's journey made 
 in the drowsy heat of an Eastern summer, are indescribably 
 grateful. 
 
 After the women had retired from the bath, we were allowed 
 to enter. The interior consisted of a single chamber, thirty 
 feet high, vaulted and almost dark. In the centre was a large 
 basin of hot water, filled by four streams which poured into it 
 A. ledge ran aiound the sides, and niches in thie wall supplied 
 places for our clothes. The bath-keeper furnished us with 
 towels, and we undressed and plunged in. The water was 
 agreeably warm (about 90), had a sweet taste, and a very 
 slight sulphury smell. The vaulted hall redoubled the slight- 
 est noise, and a shaven Turk, who kept us company, sang in 
 lis delight, that he might hear the echo of his own voice 
 When we went back to the tent we found our visitor lying 01
 
 THE PLAGUE OF GAD-FLIES. 269 
 
 the ground, trying to stay his hunger It was rather too baa 
 in us to light our pipes, make a sherbet and drink and sinokc 
 in his face, while we joked him about the Ramazan ; and he aj 
 last got up and walked off, the picture of distress 
 
 We made an early start the next morning, and rode 01. 
 briskly over the rolling, grassy hills. A beautiful lake, with 
 an island in it, lay at the foot of Emir Dagh. After two hours 
 we reached a guard-house, where our teskeres were demanded, 
 and the lazy guardsman invited us in to take coffee, that he 
 might establish a right to the backsheesh which he could not 
 demand. He had seen us afar off, and the coffee was smoking 
 in the finjans when we arrived. The sun was already terribly 
 hot, and the large, green gad-flies came in such quantities that 
 I seemed to be riding in the midst of a swarm of bees. My 
 horse suffered very much, and struck out his hind feet so 
 violently, in his endeavors to get rid of them, that he racked 
 every joint in my body. They were not content with suck- 
 LLg his blood, but settling on the small segment of my calf, 
 exposed between the big Tartar boot and the flowing trowsers, 
 bit through my stockings with fierce bills. I killed hundreds 
 of them, to no purpose, and at last, to relieve my horse, tied a 
 bunch of hawthorn to a string, by which I swung it under his 
 belly and against the inner side of his flanks. In this way J 
 gave him some relief a service which he acknowledged by a 
 grateful motion of his head. 
 
 As we descended towards Ak-Sheher the country became 
 exceedingly rich and luxuriant. The range of Sultan Dagh 
 ^the Mountain of the Sultan) rose on our left, its sides covered 
 with a thick screen of shrubbery, and its highest peak dotted 
 with patches of snow; opposite, the lower range of Emir Dagh
 
 270 THE ULNDS OP THE SARACEN. 
 
 (the Mountain of the Prince) lay blue and bare in the sun 
 shine. The base of Sultan Dagh was girdled with groves of 
 fruit-trees, stretching out in long lines on the plain, with fields 
 of ripening wheat between. In the distance the large lake of 
 Ak-Sheher glittered in the sun. Towards the north-west, th 
 plain stretched away for fifty miles before reaching the hills. 
 It is evidently on a much lower level than the plain of Kouia ; 
 the heat was not only greater, but the season was further 
 advanced. Wheat was nearly readj for cutting, and the 
 poppy-fields where, the day previous, the men were making 
 their first incisions for opium, here had yielded their harvest 
 and were fast ripening their seed. Ak-Sheher is beautifully 
 situated at the entrance of a deep gorge in the mountains. It 
 is so buried in its embowered gardens that little, except the 
 mosque, is seen as you approach it. It is a large place, and 
 boasts a fine mosque, but contains nothing worth seeing. The 
 bazaar, after that of Konia, was the largest we had seen since 
 leaving Tarsus. The greater part of the shopkeepers lay at 
 full length, dozing, sleeping, or staying their appetites till the 
 sunset gun. We found some superb cherries, and plenty of 
 snow, which is brought down from the mountain. The 
 natives were very friendly and good-humored, but seemed sur- 
 prised at Mr. Harrison tasting the che fies, although I told 
 them we were upon a journey. Our tent was pitched under a 
 splendid walnut tree, outside of the town. The green mountain 
 *ose between us and the fading sunset, and the yellow moon 
 was hanging in the east, as we took our dinner at the tent- 
 door Turks were riding homewards on donkeys, with loads of 
 grass which they had been cutting in the meadows. The gun 
 was fired, and the shouts of the children announced the elos*
 
 THE BASE OF SULTAN DAGII. 271 
 
 of the day's fast, while the sweet, melancholy voice of a boy 
 muezzin called us to sunset prayer, from the minaret. 
 
 Leaving Ak-Sheher this morning, we rode along the bast 
 of Snltan Dagh The plain which we overlooked was magnifi- 
 cent. The wilderness of shrubbery which fringed the slopes 
 of the mountain gave place to great orchards and gardens, 
 interspersed with fields of grain, which extended far out on 
 the plain, to the wild thickets and wastes of reeds surrounding 
 the lake. The sides of Sultan Dagh were terraced and culti- 
 vated wherever it was practicable, and I saw some fields of 
 wheat high up on the mountain. There were many people 
 in the road or laboring in the fields ; and during the forenoon 
 we passed several large villages. The country is more thickly 
 inhabited, and has a more thrifty and prosperous air than any 
 part of Asia Minor which I have seen. The people are better 
 clad, have more open, honest, cheerful and intelligent faces, 
 and exhibit a genuine courtesy and good-will in their demeanor 
 towards us. I never felt more perfectly secure, or more certain 
 of being among people whom I could trust. 
 
 We passed under the summit of Sultan Dagh, which shone 
 out so clear and distinct in the morning sun, that I could 
 scarcely realize its actual height above the plain. From a tre- 
 mendous gorge, cleft between the two higher peaks, issued a 
 large stream, which, divided into a hundred channels, fertilize? 
 a wide extent of plain. About two hours from Ak-Sheher we 
 passed a splendid fountain of crystal water, gushing up beside 
 the road. I believe it is the same called by some travellers 
 the Fountain of Midas, but am ignorant wherefore the name ii 
 given it. We rode for several hours through a succession of 
 grand, rich landscapes. A smaller lake succeeded to that o1
 
 272 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 Ak-Sheher, Emir Dagh rose higher in the pale-blue sky, and 
 Sultan Dagh showed other peaks, broken and striped with 
 snow ; but around us were the same glorious orchards and 
 gardens, the same golden-green wheat *nd rustling phalanxes 
 of poppies armies of vegetable Round-heads, beside the 
 bristling and bearded Cavaliers. The sun was intensely hot 
 during the afternoon, as we crossed the plain, and I became so 
 drowsed that it required an agony of exertion to keep from 
 tumbling off my horse. We here left the great post-road to 
 Constantinople, and took a less frequented track. The plain 
 gradually became a meadow, covered with shrub cypress, flags, 
 reeds, and wild water-plants. There were vast wastes of luxu- 
 riant grass, whereon thousands of black buffaloes were feeding. 
 A stone causeway, containing many elegant fragments of 
 ancient sculpture, extended across this part of the plain, but 
 we took a summer path beside it, through beds of iris in bloom 
 a fragile snowy blossom, with a lip of the clearest golden 
 hue. The causeway led to a bare salt plain, beyond which we 
 came to the town of Bolawadiin, and terminated our day's 
 journey of forty miles. 
 
 Bolawadiin is a collection of mud houses, about a mile long, 
 situated on an eminence at the western base of Emir Dagh. 
 I went into the bazaar, which was a small place, and not very 
 well supplied, though, as it was near sunset, there was quite a 
 crowd of people, and the bakers were shovelling out their 
 fresh bread at a brisk rate. Every one took me for a 
 good Egyptian Mohammedan, and I was jostled right and left 
 among the turbans, in a manner that certainly would not have 
 happened me had I not also worn one. Mr. H., who had 
 fallen behind the caravan, came up after we had encamped
 
 BOT-AWADDN. 273 
 
 and might have wandered a long time without finding us, hu 4 
 for the good-natured efforts of the inhabitants to set him 
 aright. This evening he knocked over a hedgehog, oiistakiim 
 it for a cat. The poos creature was severely hurt, and its soli- 
 of distress, precisely like those of a little child, were to painful 
 to hear, that we were obliged to have it removed from tli' 
 /icirdty of the tent
 
 274 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THE FORESTS OF PHRYGIA. 
 
 the Frontier of Phrygia Ancient Quarries and Tombs We Enter the Pine Forests 4 
 Gnard- House Encampments of the Turcomans Pastoral Scenery A Summer V!l' 
 lage The Valley of the Tombs Rock Sepulchres of the Phrygian Kings The Titan'i 
 Camp The Valley of Kumbeh A Land of Flowers Turcoman Hospitality Th 
 Exiled Effendis The Old Turcoman A Glimpse of Arcadia A Landscape Inter 
 eated Friendship The Valley of the Pursek Arrival at Kiutahya. 
 
 u And round us all the thicket rang 
 To many a flute of Arcady." TECSTSOJT. 
 
 KIUTAHYA, Jvfy 5, 1858. 
 
 WE had now passed through the ancient provinces of Cilicia, 
 Cappadocia, and Lycaonia, and reached the confines of Phrygia 
 a rude mountain region, which was never wholly penetrated 
 by the light of Grecian civilization. It is still comparatively 
 a wilderness, pierced but by a single high-road, and almost 
 unvisited by travellers, yet inclosing in its depths many curious 
 relics of antiquity. Leaving Bolawadiiu in the morning, we 
 ascended a long, treeless mountain-slope, and in three or four 
 hours reached the dividing ridge the watershed of Asia 
 Minor, dividing the affluents of the Mediterranean and the 
 central lakes from the streams that flow to the Black Sea. 
 Looking back, Sultan Dagh, along whose base we had travelled 
 he previous day, lay high and blue in the background
 
 ANCIENT QUARRIES AND 1OKBS. 275 
 
 streaked with shining snow, and far away behind it arose 
 a still higher peak, hoary with the lingering winter. We 
 descended into a grassy plain, shut in ly a range of broken 
 mountains, covered to their summits with dark-green shrub- 
 bery, through which the strata of marble rock gleamed like 
 patches of snow. The hills in front were scarred with old 
 quarries, once worked for the celebrated Phrygian marble 
 There was neither a habitation nor a human being to be seen, 
 and the landscape had a singularly wild, lonely, and pictu- 
 resque air. 
 
 Turning westward, we crossed a high rolling tract, and 
 entered a valley entirely covered with dwarf oaks and cedare. 
 In spite of the dusty road, the heat, and the multitude of gad- 
 flies, the journey presented an agreeable contrast to the great 
 plains over which we had been travelling for many days. The 
 opposite side of the glen was crowned with a tall crest of shat- 
 tered rock, in which were many old Phrygian tombs. They 
 were mostly simple chambers, with square apertures. There 
 were traces of many more, the rock having been blown up or 
 quarried down the tombs, instead of protecting it, only fur- 
 nishing one facility the more for destruction. After an hour's 
 rest at a fountain, we threaded the windings of the glen to a 
 lower plain, quite shut in by the hills, whose ribs of marble 
 showed through the forests of oak, holly, cedar, and pine, which 
 dotted them. We were now fully entered into the hill-country, 
 and our road passed over heights and through hollows covered 
 witl picturesque clumps of foliage. It resembled some of the 
 wild western downs of America, and. but for the Phrygian 
 tombs, whose doorways stared at us from every rock, seemed 
 as little familiar with the presence of Man.
 
 976 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 Hadji Yonssuf, in stopping to arrange some of the baggage 
 lost his hold of his mule, and in spite of every effort to secure 
 her, the provoking beast kept her liberty for the rest of the 
 day. In vain did we head her off, chase her, coax her, set 
 traps for her : she was too canning to be taken in, and 
 marched along at her ease, running into every field of grain, 
 stopping to crop the choicest bunches of grass, or walking 
 demurely in the caravan, allowing the hadji to come within 
 arm's length before she kicked up her heels and dashed away 
 again. We had a long chase through the clumps of oak and 
 holly, but all to no purpose. The great green gad-flies 
 swarmed around us, biting myself as well as my horse 
 Hecatombs, crushed by my whip, dropped dead in the dust, 
 but the ranks were immediately filled from some invisible 
 reserve. The soil was no longer bare, but entirely covered 
 with grass and flowers. In one of the valleys I saw a large 
 patch of the crimson larkspur, so thick as to resemble a pool 
 of blood. While crossing a long, hot hill, we came upon a 
 little arbor of stones, covered with pine branches. It inclosed 
 an ancient sarcophagus of marble, nearly filled with water 
 Beside it stood a square cup, with a handle, rudely hewn out 
 of a piece of pine wood. This was a charitable provision for 
 travellers, and constantly supplied by the Turcomans who lived 
 in the vicinity. 
 
 The last two hours of our journey that day were through a 
 glorious forest of pines. The road lay in a winding glen, green 
 and grassy, and covered to the summits on both sides with 
 oeautiful pine trees, intermixed with cedar. The air had the 
 true northern aroma, and was more grateful than wine. Everj 
 turn of the glen disclosed a charming woodland view. It was
 
 THE GCAKD-HOU8B. 271 
 
 a wild valley ol the northern hills, filled with the burning 
 lustre of a summer sun, and canopied by the brilliant blue of 
 a summer sky. There were signs of the woodman's axe, and 
 the charred embers of forest camp-fires. I thought of the 
 kvely Mnadas in the pine forests behind Monterey, and could 
 really have imagined myself there. Towards evening we readied 
 a solitary guard-house, on the edge of the forest. The glen 
 here opened a little, and a stone fountain of delicious water 
 furnished all that we wanted for a camping-place. The hous } 
 was inhabited by three soldiers ; sturdy, good-humored fellows, 
 who immediately spread a mat in the shade for us and made us 
 some excellent coffee. A Turcoman encampment in the neigh- 
 borhood supplied us with milk and eggs. 
 
 The guardsmen were good Mussulmans, and took us for the 
 same. One of them asked me to let him know when the sun 
 was down, and I prolonged his fast until it was quite dark, 
 when I gave him permission to eat. They all had tolerable 
 Btallions for their service, and seemed to live pleasantly enough, 
 in their wild way. The fat, stumpy corporal, with his enor- 
 mously broad pantaloons and automaton legs, went down tc 
 the fountain with his musket, and after taking a rest and 
 sighting full five minutes, fired at a dove without hitting it 
 He afterwards joined us in a social pipe, and we sat on a car- 
 pet at the door of the guard-house, watching the splendid 
 moonrise through the pine boughs. When the pipes had 
 burned out I went to bed, and slept a long, sweet sleep until 
 dawn. 
 
 We knew that the tombs of the Phrygian Kings could not 
 be far off, and, on making inquiries of the corporal, found that 
 ke knew the place. It was not four hours distant, by a by-road
 
 278 THE LANDS OF THE SARACElf. 
 
 and as it would be impossible to reach it without a guide, ht 
 would give us one of his men, in consideration of a fee of 
 twenty piastres. The difficulty was evident, in a hilly, wooded 
 txwntry like this, traversed by a labyrinth of valleys ant? 
 ravines, and so we accepted the soldier. As we were about 
 leaving, an old Turcoman, whose beard was dyed a bright red, 
 came up, saying that he knew Mr. H. was a physician, and 
 could cure him of his deafness. The morning air was sweet 
 with the breath of cedar and pine, and we rode on through the 
 woods and over the open turfy glades, in high spirits. We 
 were in the heart of a mountainous country, clothed with ever- 
 green forests, except some open upland tracts, which showed a 
 thick green turf, dotted all over with park-like clumps, and 
 single great trees. The pines were noble trunks, often sixty 
 to eighty feet high, and with boughs disposed in all possible 
 picturesqueness of form. The cedar frequently showed a solid 
 white bole, three feet in diameter. 
 
 We took a winding footpath, often a mere track, striking 
 across the hills in a northern direction. Everywhere we met 
 the Turks of the plain, who are now encamped in the moun- 
 tains, to tend their flocks through the summer months. Herd? 
 of sheep and goats were scattered over the green pasture-slopes, 
 and the idle herd-boys basked in the morning sun, playing 
 lively airs on a reed flute, resembling the Arabic zumarra 
 Here and there was a woodman, busy at a recently felled tree 
 and we met several of the creaking carts of the country, haul- 
 ing logs All that we saw had a pleasant rural air, a smack 
 of primitive and unsophisticated life. From the higher ridges 
 over which we passed, we could see, far to the east and west, 
 other ranges of pine-covered mountains, and in the distance
 
 A TURCOMAN VILLAGE 279 
 
 the cloudy lines of loftier chains. The trunks of the pinei 
 were nearly all charred, and many of the smaller trees dead 
 from the fires which, later in the year, rage in these forests. 
 
 After four hours of varied and most inspiring travel, we 
 reached a district covered for the most part with oak woods a 
 more open though still mountainous region. There was a sum- 
 mer village of Turks scattered over the nearest slope proba- 
 bly fifty houses in all, almost perfect counterparts of Western 
 log-cabins. They were bnilt of pine logs, laid crosswise, and 
 covered with rough boards. These, as we were told, were the 
 dwellings of the people who inhabit the village of Khosref 
 Pasha Khan during the winter. Great numbers of sheep and 
 goats were browsing over the hills or lying around the doors 
 af the houses. The latter were beautiful creatures, with heavy, 
 curved horns, and long, white, silky hair, that entirely hid their 
 eyes. We stopped at a house for water, which the man 
 brought out in a little cask. He at first proposed giving us 
 yaourt, and his wife suggested kaimak (sweet curds), which we 
 agreed to take, but it proved to be only boiled milk. 
 
 Leaving the village, we took a path leading westward, 
 mounted a long hill, and again entered the pine forests 
 Before long, we came to a well-built country-house, somewhat 
 resembling a Swiss cottage. It was two stories high, and 
 there was an upper balcony, with cushioned divans, overlook- 
 ing a thriving garden-patch and some fruit-trees. Three or 
 foui men were weeding in the garden, and the owner came up 
 and welcomed us. A fountain of ice-cold water gushed into a 
 stone trough at the door, making a tempting spot for our 
 breakfast, but we were bent on reaching the tombs. There 
 were convenient out-houses for fowls, sheep, and cattle Th
 
 280 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 nerds were oat, grazing along the edges of the forest, and wt 
 beard the shrill, joyous melodies of the flutes blown by th 
 herd-boys. 
 
 We now reached a ridge, whence we looked down through 
 the forest upon a long valley, nearly half a mile wide, and boi 
 dered on the opposite side by ranges of broken sandstone 
 crags. This was th place we sought the Valley of the 
 Phrygian Tombs. Already we could distinguish the hewn 
 faces of the rocks, and the dark apertures to the chambers 
 within. The bottom of the valley was a bed of glorious 
 grass, blazoned with flowers, and redolent of all vernal 
 smells. Several peasants, finding it too hot to mow, had 
 thrown their scythes along the swarths, and were lying 
 in the shade of an oak. We rode over the new-cut hay, 
 np the opposite side, and dismounted at the face of the 
 crags. As we approached them, the number of chambers 
 hewn in the rock, the doors and niches now open to the 
 day, surmounted by shattered spires and turrets, gave the 
 whole mass the appearance of a grand fortress in ruins. The 
 crags, which are of a very soft, reddish-gray sandstone, 
 rise a hundred and fifty feet from their base, and their sum- 
 mits are worn by the weather into the most remarkable 
 forms. 
 
 The principal monument is a broad, projecting cliff, one 
 Mde of which has been cut so as to resemble the facade of a 
 temple. The sculptured part is about sixty feet high by sixty 
 in breadth, and represents a solid wall with two pilasters 
 it the ends, upholding an architrave and pediment, which 
 is surmounted by two large volutes. The whole face of the 
 Trail is covered with ornamei.ts resembling panel-work, not \o
 
 SEPULCHRES OF THE PHRYGIAN KINGS 281 
 
 regular squares, but a labyrinth of intricate designs It 
 the centre, at the bottom, is a shallow square recess, sur 
 rounded by an elegant, though plain moulding, but there is m. 
 appearance of an entrance to the sepulchral chamber, whicl 
 may be hidden in the heart of the rock. There is an inscrip 
 tion in Greek running up one side, but it is of a later date 
 than the work itself. On one of the tombs there is an inscrip- 
 tion : " To King Midas." These relics are supposed to date 
 from the period of the Gordian Dynasty, about seven centu- 
 ries before Christ. 
 
 A little in front of a headland, formed by the summit walls 
 of two meeting valleys, rises a mass of rocks one hundred feet 
 high, cut into sepulchral chambers, story above story, with 
 the traces of steps between them, leading to others still higher. 
 The whole rock, which may be a hundred and fifty feet long 
 by fifty feet broad, has been scooped out, leaving but narrow 
 partitions to separate the chambers of the dead These cham- 
 bers are all plain, but some are of very elegant proportions, 
 with arched or pyramidal roofs, and arched recesses at the 
 sides, containing sarcophagi hewn in the solid stone. There 
 are also many niches for cinerary urns. The principal tomb 
 had a portico, supported by columns, but the front is now 
 entirely hurled down, and only the elegant panelling and stone 
 joists of the ceiling remain. The entire hill was a succession 
 of tombs There is not a rock which does not bear traces of 
 them. I might have counted several hundred within a stone's 
 throw. The position of these curious remains in a lonely 
 /alley, shut in on all sides by dark, pine-covered mountains- 
 two of which are crowned with a natural acropolis of rock, 
 resembling a fortress increases the interest with which thej
 
 282 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 inspire the beholder. The valley on the western side, with ita 
 bed of ripe wheat in the bottom, its tall walls, towers, and 
 pinnacles of rock, and its distant vista of mountain and forest, 
 is the most picturesque in Phrygia. 
 
 The Turcoman reapers, who came up to see us and talk with 
 ns, said that there were the remains of walls on the summit of 
 the principal acropolis opposite us, and that, further up the 
 valley, there was a chamber with two columns in front. 
 Mr. Harrison and I saddled and rode off, passing along 
 a wall of fantastic rock-turrets, at the base of which was 
 a natural column, about ten feet high, and five in diameter 
 almost perfectly round, and upholding an immense reck, 
 shaped like a cocked hat. In crossing the meadow we saw 
 a Turk sitting in the sun beside a spring, and busily engaged 
 in knitting a stocking. After a ride of two miles we found 
 the chamber, hewn like the facade of a temple in an isolated 
 rock, overlooking two valleys of wild meadow-land. The 
 pediment and cornice were simple and beautiful, but the 
 columns had been broken away. The chambers were perfectly 
 plain, but the panel-work on the ceiling of the portico was 
 entire. 
 
 After passing three hours in examining these tcoibs, we 
 took the track which our guide pointed out as the road to 
 Kiutahya. We rode two hours through the forest, and came 
 out upon a wooded height, overlooking a grand, open valley, 
 rich in grain-fields and pasture land. While I was contemplat- 
 ting this lovely view, the road turned a corner of the ridge, 
 and lo ! before me there appeared (as I thought), above the 
 tops of the pines, high up' on the mountain side, a line of enor 
 mous tents Those snow-white cones, uprearing their sharp
 
 THE TITAN'S CAMP. 283 
 
 ipires, and spreading out their broad bases what could they be 
 but an encampment of monster tents ? Yet no ; they wert 
 pinnacles of white rock perfect cones, from thirty to one huri 
 dred feet in height, twelve in all, and ranged side by side along 
 the edge of the cliff, with the precision of a military camp. 
 They were ^.now-white, perfectly smooth and full, and their 
 bases touched What made the spectacle more singular, there 
 was no other appearance of the same rock on the mountain. 
 All around them was the dark-green of the pines, out of which 
 they rose like drifted horns of unbroken snow. I named this 
 singular phenomenon which seems to have escaped the 
 notice of travellers The Titan's Camp. 
 
 In another hour we reached a fountain near the village of 
 
 Kurnbeh, and pitched our tents for the night. The village, 
 
 
 which is half a mile in length, is built upon a singular crag, 
 
 which shoots up abruptly from the centre of the valley, rising 
 at one extremity to a height of more than a hundred feet. It 
 was entirely deserted, the inhabitants having all gone off to 
 the mountains with their herds. The solitary muezzin, who 
 cried the mughreb at the close of the fast, and lighted the 
 lamps on his minaret, went through with his work in most 
 anclerical haste, now that there was no one to notice him. We 
 sent Achmet, the katurgee, to the mountain camp of the villa- 
 gers, to procure a supply of fowls and barley. 
 
 We rose very early yesterday morning, shivering in the ^,old 
 air of the mountains, and just as the sun, bursting through the 
 pin,s, looked down the little hollow where our tents were 
 pitched, set the caravan in motion. The ride down the valley 
 was charming. The land was naturally rich and highly culti- 
 vated, which made its desertion the more singular. League?
 
 284 THE LAKDS OF THE SARACRW. 
 
 of wheat, rye and poppies spread around us, left for the snmmei 
 warmth to do its silent work. The dew sparkled on the fields 
 as we rode through them, and the splendor of the flowers ID 
 blossom was equal to that of the plains of Palestine. There 
 were purple, white and scarlet poppies ; the rich crimson lark- 
 spur ; the red anemone ; the golden daisy ; the pink convolvu- 
 lus ; and a host of smaller blooms, so intensely bright and 
 dazzling in their hues, that the meadows were richer than a 
 pavement of precious jewels. To look towards the sun, over 
 a field of scarlet poppies, was like looking on a bed of live 
 coals ; the light, striking through the petals, made them bum 
 as with an inward fire. Out of this wilderness of gorgeous 
 color, rose the tall spires of a larger plant, covered with great 
 yellow flowers, while here and there the snowy blossoms of a 
 clamp of hawthorn sweetened {he morning air. 
 
 A short distance beyond Kumbeh, we passed another group 
 of ancient tombs, one of which was of curious design. An 
 isolated rock, thirty feet in height by twenty in diameter, was 
 cut so as to resemble a triangular tower, with the apex bevelled. 
 A chamber, containing a sarcophagus, was hewn out of the 
 interior. The entrance was ornamented with double columns 
 in bas-relief, and a pediment. There was another arched 
 chamber, cut directly through the base of the triangle, with a 
 niche on each side, hollowed out at the bottom so as to form a 
 sarcophagus. 
 
 Leaving these, the last of the Phrygian ton bs, we struck 
 across the valley and ascended a high range of hills, covered 
 with pine, to an upland, wooded region. Here we found a 
 lummer village of log cabins, scattered over a grassy slope 
 The people regarded us with some curiosity, and the womei
 
 THE EXILED EFFENDIS. 285 
 
 hastily concealed their faces. Mr. H. rode up to a large ne? 
 house, and peeped in between the logs. There were se\era. 
 women inside, who started up in great confusion and threw 
 Dver their heads whatever article was most convenient. Au 
 old man, with a long white beard, neatly dressed in a green 
 jacket and shawl turban, came out and welcomed us. I asked 
 for kaimak, which he promised, and immediately brought out a 
 carpet and spread it on the ground. Then followed a large 
 basin of kaimak, with wooden spoons, three loaves of bread, 
 and a plate of cheese. We seated ourselves on the carpet, and 
 delved in with the spoons, while the old man retired lest hia 
 appetite should be provoked. The milk was excellent, nor 
 were the bread and cheese to be despised. 
 
 While we were eating, the Khowagee, or schoolmaster of the 
 community, a genteel little man in a round white turban, came 
 up to inquire of Fra^ois who we were. " That effendi in the 
 blue dress," said he, " is the Bey, is he not ?" " Yes," said F. 
 " And the other, with the striped shirt and white turban, is a 
 writer ?" [Here he was not far wrong.] " But how is it that 
 the effendis do not speak Turkish ?" he persisted. " Because," 
 said Fran9ois, " their fathers were exiled by Sultan Mahmoud 
 when they were small children. They have grown up in 
 Aleppo like Arabs, and have not yet learned Turkish ; but 
 God grant that the Sultan may not turn his face away froir 
 them, and that they may regain the rank their fathers once had 
 in Stamboul." " God grant it !" replied the Khowagee. 
 greatly interested in the story. By this time we had eaten our 
 full share of the kairaak, which was finished by Fran9ois and 
 the katurgees. The old mau now came up, mounted on a 
 ion mare, stating that he was bound for Kiutahya, and wai
 
 286 THI LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 uelighted with the prospect of travelling in such good .^ 
 
 I gave one of his young children some money, as the kai'mak 
 
 u us tendered out of pure hospitality, and so we rode off. 
 
 Oar new companion was armed to the teeth, having a loug gun 
 with a heavy wooden stock and nondescript lock, and a sword 
 of excellent metal. It was, in fact, a weapon of the old Greek 
 oni] tire, and the cross was still enamelled in gold at the root of 
 the blade, in spite of all his efforts to scratch it out. He waa 
 something of a fakeer, having made a pilgrimage to Mecca and 
 Jerusalem. He was very inquisitive, plying Francois with 
 questions about the government. The latter answered that 
 we were not connected with the government, but the old fellow 
 shrewdly hinted that he knew better we were persons of rank, 
 travelling incognito. He was very attentive to us, offering us 
 water at every fountain, although he believed us to be good 
 Mussulmans. We found him of some service as a guide, short 
 ening our road by taking by-paths through the woods. 
 
 For several hours we traversed a beautifully wooded region 
 of hills. Graceful clumps of pine shaded the grassy knolls, 
 where the sheep and silky-haired goats were basking at rest, 
 and the air was filled with a warm, summer smell, blown from 
 the banks of golden broom. Now and then, from the thickets 
 of laurel and arbutus, a shrill shepherd's reed piped some 
 joyous woodland melody. Was it a Faun, astray among the 
 hills ? Green dells, open to the sunshine, and beautiful as 
 dreams of Arcady, divided the groves of pine. The sky over 
 head was pure and cloudless, clasping the landscape with it*, belt 
 of peace and silence. Oh, that delightful region, haunted by 
 all the bright spirits of the immortal Grecian Song ! Chased 
 away from the rest of the earth, here they have found a homt
 
 A PHRYGIAN LANDSCAPE. 281 
 
 here secret altars remain to them from the times that ar 
 departed ! 
 
 Out of these woods, we passed into a lonely plain, inclosed 
 by piny hills that brightened in the thin, pure ether. In the 
 distance were some shepherds' tents, and musical goat-bells tin- 
 kled along the edges of the woods. From the crest of a lofty 
 ridge beyond this plain, we looked back over the wild solitudes 
 wherein we had been travelling for two days long ranges of 
 dark hills, fading away behind each other, with a perspective 
 that hinted of the hidden gulfs between. From the western 
 slope, a still more extensive prospect opened before us. Over 
 ridges covered with forests of oak and pine, we saw the valley of 
 the Pursek, the ancient Thyrnurius, stretching far away to the 
 misty lioe of Keshish Dagh. The mountains behind Kintahya 
 loomed up high and grand, making a fine feature in the middle 
 distance We caught but fleeting glimpses of the view through 
 the trees ; and then, plunging into the forest again, descended 
 to a cultivated slope, whereon there was a little village, now 
 deserted. The grave-yard beside it was shaded with large 
 'dar-trees, and near it there was a fountain of excellent water. 
 " Here," said the old man, " you can wash and pray, and then 
 rest awhile under the trees." Francois excused us by saying 
 that, while on a journey, we always bathed before praying ; 
 but, not to slight his faith entirely, I washed my hands and face 
 before sitting down to our scanty breakfast of bread and 1 
 water. 
 
 Our path now led down through long, winding glens, over 
 grown with oaks, from which the wild yellow honeysuckles fei 1 
 in a shower of blossoms. As we drew near the valley, the old 
 tnan began to hint that his presence had been of great service
 
 288 TFE LANDS 07 THB SARACE1C. 
 
 to as, and deserved recompense. " God knows," said he to 
 Francois, "in what corner of the mountains you might now be 
 if I had not accompanied you." " Oh," replied Fraiujois, " there 
 are always plenty of people among the woods, who would ha ye 
 been equally as kind as yourself in showing us the way." He 
 then spoke of the robbers in the neighborhood, and pointed out 
 some graves by the road-side, as those of persons who had 
 been murdered. " But," he added, "everybody in these parts 
 knows me, and whoever is in company with me is always safe." 
 The Greek assured him that we always depended on ourselves 
 for our safety. Defeated on these tacks, he boldly affirmed 
 that his services were worthy of payment. " But," said Fran- 
 c,ois, " you told us at the village that you had business in Kiu- 
 tahya, and ^ juld be glad to join us for the sake of having 
 company on the road." " Well, then," rejoined the old fellow, 
 making a last effort, " I leave the matter to your politeness. 
 " Certainly," replied the imperturbable dragoman, " we couFd 
 not be so impolite as to offer money to a man of your wealth 
 and station ; we could not insult you by giving you alms." 
 The old Turcoman thereupon gave a shrug and a grunt, made 
 a sullen good-by salutation, and left us. 
 
 It was nearly six o'clock when we reached the Pursek. 
 There was no sign of the city, but we could barely discern an old 
 fortress on the lofty cliff which commands the town. A long 
 stone bridge crossed the river, which here separates into half a 
 dozen channels. The waters are swift and clear, and wind 
 away in devious mazes through the broad green meadows. We 
 hurried on, thinking we saw minarets in the distance, but they 
 proved to be poplars. The sun sank lower and lower, and 
 finally went down before there was any token of our being ic
 
 A31UVAL AT KIUTAHYA. 289 
 
 the vicinity of the city. Soon, however, a line of tiled roofs 
 appeared along the slope of a hill on our left, and turning its 
 base, we saw the city before ns, filling the mouth of a deep 
 valley or gorge, which opened from the mountains. 
 
 But the horses are saddled, and Francois tells me it is time 
 to put up my pen. We are off, over the mountains, tc the old 
 Grreek city of (Ezan;, in tne valley of the Rhyndacus
 
 290 THE I.AND^ Ut THE 
 
 KIUTAHTA AND THE RUINS OP (BZAlfl. 
 
 Entrance into Kiutahya The New Khan An Unpleasant Discovery Klutahya The 
 Citadel Panorama trjm the Walls The Gorge of the Mountains Camp in t 
 Meadow The Valley of the Rhyndacus Chavdiir The Ruins of CEzan! The Acro- 
 polis and Temple The Theatre and Stadium Ride down the Valley Camp at Daghjr 
 KAi. 
 
 44 There is a temple in ruin stands, 
 Fashioned by long-forgotten hands ; 
 Two or three columns and many a stone, 
 Marble and granite, with grass o'ergrown ! 
 Out upon Time ! it will leave no more 
 Of the things to come than the things before !" 
 
 KOI, on the Rhyndacus, July 6, 1S52. 
 
 ON entering Kiutahya, we passed the barracks, which were 
 the residence of Kossuth and his companions in exile. Beyond 
 them, we came to a broad street, down which flowed the vilest 
 stream of filth of which even a Turkish city could ever boast. 
 The houses on either side were two stories high, the upper 
 part of wood, with hanging balconies, over which shot the 
 eaves of the tiled roofs. The welcome cannon had just 
 sounded, announcing the close of the day's fast. The coffee- 
 shops were already crowded with lean and hungry customers, 
 the pipes were filled and lighted, and the coffee smoked in the 
 finjans. In half a minute such whiffs arose on all sides as it 
 would have cheered the heart if a genuine smoker to l>ehold
 
 THE NEW KHAN. 291 
 
 Out of these cheerful places we passed into otner streets which 
 were entirely deserted, the inhabitants being at dinner. It 
 had a weird, uncomfortable effect to ride through streets 
 where the clatter of our horses' hoofs was the only sound of 
 life. At last we reached the entrance to a bazaar, and near il 
 a khan a new khan, very neatly built, and with a spare rooir 
 so much better than we expected, that we congratulated our- 
 selves heartily. We unpacked in a hurry, and Francois rac 
 off to the bazaar, from which he speedily returned with some 
 roast kid, cucumbers, and cherries. We lighted two lamps, I 
 borrowed the oda-bashi's narghileh, and Francois, learning that 
 it was our national anniversary, procured us a flask of Greek 
 wine, that we might do it honor. The beverage, however, 
 resembled a mixture of vinegar and sealing-wax, and we con- 
 tented ourselves with drinking patriotic toasts, in two finjaus 
 of excellent coffee. But in the midst of our enjoyment, hap- 
 pening to cast my eye on the walls, I saw a sight that turned 
 all our honey into gall. Scores on scores nay, hundreds on 
 hundreds of enormous bed-bugs swarmed on the plaster, and 
 were already descending to our beds and baggage. To sleep 
 there was impossible, but we succeeded in getting possession of 
 one of the outside balconies, where we made our beds, aftei 
 searching them thoroughly. 
 
 In the evening a merchant, who spoke a little Arabic, came 
 up to me and asked : "Is not your Excellency's friend the 
 lakim pasha!" (chief physican). I did not venture to asseut, 
 but replied : " No ; he is a sowakh." This was beyond hia 
 comprehension, and he went away with the impression that 
 Mr. H. was much greater than a hakim pasha. I slept soundlj 
 on my out-doors bed, but was awakened towards morning by
 
 292 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 two tremendous claps of thunder, echoing in the gorge, and the 
 rattling of rain on the roof of the khan. 
 
 I spent two or three hours next morning in taking a survey 
 of Kiutahya. The town is much larger than I had supposed : 
 I should judge it to contain from fifty to sixty thousand inhabi 
 tauts. The situation is remarkable, and gives a picturesque 
 effect to the place when seen from above, which makes one 
 forget its internal filth. It is built in the mouth of a gorge, 
 and around the bases of the hills on either side. The lofty 
 mountains which rise behind it supply it with perpetual springs 
 of pure water. At every dozen steps you come upon a foun- 
 tain, and every large street has a brook in the centre. The 
 houses are all two and many of them three stories high, with 
 hanging balconies, which remind me much of Switzerland 
 The bazaars are very extensive, covering all the base of the hill 
 on which stands the ancient citadel. " The goods displayed were 
 mostly European cotton fabrics, quincaillerie, boots and slippers, 
 pipe-sticks and silks. In the parts devoted to the produce of 
 the country, I saw very fine cherries, cucumbers and lettuce, 
 and bundles of magnificent clover, three to four feet high. 
 
 We climbed a steep path to the citadel, which covers thq 
 summit of an abrupt, isolated hill, connected by a shoulder 
 with the great range. The walls are nearly a mile in circuit, 
 consisting almost wholly of immense circular buttresses, placed 
 so near each other that they almost touch. The connecting 
 walls are broken down on the northern side, so that from below 
 the buttresses have the appearance of enormous shattered 
 columns. They are built of rough stones, with regular layers 
 of tiat, burnt bricks. On the highest part of the hill stands 
 the fortress, or stronghold, a place which must have beer
 
 THE CITADEL OF KIOTAHrA. 298 
 
 almost impregnable before the invention of caanon. The struc- 
 ture probably dates from the ninth or tenth century, but U 
 built on the foundations of more ancient edifices. The old 
 Greek city of Cotyaeum (whence Kiutahya) probably stood 
 ipon this hill. Within the citadel is an upper town, contain- 
 ing about a hundred houses, the residence, apparently of poor 
 families. 
 
 From the circuit of the walls, on every side, there are grand 
 views over the plain, the city, and the gorges of the moun- 
 tains behind. The valley of the Pursek, freshened by the last 
 night's shower, spread out a sheet of vivid green, to the pine- 
 covered mountains which bounded it on all sides. Around 
 the city it was adorned with groves and gardens, and, in the 
 direction of Brousa, white roads went winding away to other 
 gardens and villages in the distance. The mountains of 
 Phrygia, through which we had passed, were the loftiest in 
 the circle that inclosed the valley. The city at our feet pre- 
 sented a thick array of red-tiled roofs, out of which rose here 
 and there the taper shaft of a minaret, or the dome of a 
 mosque or bath. From the southern side of the citadel, we 
 looked down into the gorge which supplies Kiutahya with 
 water a wild, desert landscape of white crags and shattered 
 oeaks of gray rock, hanging over a narrow winding bed of the 
 greenest foliage. 
 
 Instead of taking the direct road to Brousa, we decided 1 1 
 make a detour of two days, in order tc visit the ruins of the old 
 Greek city of (Ezaui, which are thirty -six miles south of Kiu- 
 tahya. Leaving at noon, we ascended the gorge behind the 
 city, by delightfully embowered paths, at first under the eavei 
 of superb walnut-trees, and then through wild thickets of wiL
 
 294 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 low, hazel, privet, and other shrubs, tangled togeiher with lh 
 odorous white honeysuckle. Near the city, the mount ain-sidci 
 were bare white masses of gypsum and other rock, in many 
 places with the p irest chrome-yellow hue ; but as we advanced, 
 they were clothed to the summit with copsewood. The streams 
 that foamed down these pereuuial heights were led into buried 
 channels, to come to light again in sparkling fountains, pouring 
 into ever-full stone basins. The day was cool and cloudy, and 
 the heavy shadows which hung on the great sides of the moun- 
 tain gateway, heightened, by contrast, the glory of the sunlit 
 plain seen through them. 
 
 After passing the summit ridge, probably 5,000 feet above 
 the sea, we came upon a wooded, hilly region, stretching away 
 in long misty lines to Murad Dagh, whose head was spotted 
 with snow. There were patches of wheat and rye in the hol- 
 lows, and the bells of distant herds tinkled occasionally among 
 the trees. There was no village on the road, and we were OP 
 the way to one which we saw in the distance, when we came 
 upon a meadow of good grass, with a small stream running 
 through it. Here we encamped, sending Achmet, the katur- 
 gee, to the village for milk and eggs. The ewes had just been 
 milked for the suppers of their owners, but they went over the 
 flock again, stripping their udders, which greatly improved 
 the quality of the milk. The night was so cold that I could 
 scarcely sleep during the morning hours. There was a chill, 
 heavy dew on the meadow ; but when Francois awoke me at 
 gunris?, the sky was splendidly clear and pure, and the earlj 
 beams had a little warmth in them. Our coffee, before start 
 ing, made with sheep's milk, was the richest I ever drank. 
 
 After riding for two hours across broad, wild ridges, coverec
 
 THE RUINS UF lEZAM. 295 
 
 trith cedar, we reached a height overlooking the valley of the 1 
 Rhyndacus, or rather the plain whence he draws his sources 
 a circular level, ten or twelve miles in diameter, and contract- 
 ing towards the west into a narrow dell, through which hi* 
 raters find outlet ; several villages, each embowered in gar 
 ilens, were scattered along the bases of the hills that inclose it 
 We took the wrong road, but were set aright by a herdsman, 
 und after threading a lane between thriving grain-fields, were 
 cheeved by the sight of the Temple of (Ezani, lifted on its 
 acropolis above the orchards of Chavdiir, and standing out 
 sharp and clear against the purple ot the hills. 
 
 Our approach to the city was marked b) the blocks of sculp- 
 tured marble that lined the way : elegant mouldings, cornices, 
 and enta'blatures, thrown together with common stone to make 
 walls between the fields. The village is built on both sides of 
 the Rhyndacus ; it is an ordinary Turkish hamlet, with tiled 
 roofs and chimneys, and exhibits very few of the remains of 
 the old city in its composition. This, I suspect, is owing to 
 the great size of the hewn blocks, especially of the pillars, 
 cornices, and entablatures, nearly all of which are from twelve 
 to fifteen feet long. It is from the size and number of these 
 scattered blocks, rather than from the buildings which still 
 partially exist, that one obtains an idea of the size and splen- 
 dor of the ancient (Ezani. The place is filled with fragments, 
 especiallj of columns, of which there are several hundred, 
 nearly all finely fluted. The Rhyndacus is still spanned by an 
 ancient bridge of three arches, and both banks are lined with 
 pieis of hewn stone. Tall poplars and massy walnuts of the 
 richest green shade the clear waters, and there are many pic- 
 turesque combinations of foliagt- and ruin death and life
 
 296 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 which would charm a painter's eye. Near the bridge we 
 stopped to examine a pile of immense fragments which hare 
 been thrown together by the Turks pillars, cornices, altars, 
 pieces of a frieze, with bulls' heads bound together by hanging 
 garlands, and a large square block, with a legible tablet. It 
 resembled an altar in form, and, from the word " Artemidoron, 11 
 appeared to have belonged to some temple to Diana. 
 
 Passing through the village we came to a grand artificial 
 platform on its western side, called the Acropolis. It is of 
 solid masonry, five hundred feet square, and averaging ten feet 
 in height. On the eastern side it is supported on rude though 
 massive arches, resembling Etruscan workmanship. On the 
 top and around the edges of this platform lie great numbers of 
 fluted columns, and immense fragments of cornice and archi- 
 trave In the centre, on a foundation platform about eight 
 feet high, stands a beautiful Ionic temple, one hundred feet in 
 length. On approaching, it appeared nearly perfect, except 
 the roof and so many of the columns remain standing that its 
 ruined condition scarcely injures the effect. There are seventeen 
 columns on the side and eight at the end, Ionic in style, fluted, 
 and fifty feet in height. About half the cella remains, with an 
 elegant frieze and cornice along the top, and a series of tablets, 
 set in panels of ornamental sculpture, running along the sides. 
 The front of the cella includes a small open peristyle, with twc 
 composite Corinthian columns at the entrance, making, with 
 those of the outer colonnade, eighteen columns standing. The 
 tablets contain Greek inscriptions, perfectly legible, where the 
 itono has not been shattered. Under the temple there are large 
 vaults, which we found filled up with young kids, who had 
 gone in there to escape the heat of tin 1 sun. The portico wan
 
 TH THEATRE AND STADIUM. 291 
 
 occupied by sheep, which at first refused to make room for us, 
 tad gave strong olfactory evidence of their partiality for the 
 temple as a resting-place. 
 
 On the side of a hill, about three hundred yards to the 
 north, are the remains of a theatre. Crossing some patches of 
 barley and lentils, we entered a stadium, forming an extension 
 of the theatre that is, it took the same breadth and direction, 
 so that the two might be considered as one grand work, more 
 than 'one thousand feet long by nearly four hundred wide. 
 The walls of the stadium are hurled down, except an entrance 
 of five arches of massive masonry, on the western side. We 
 rode up the artificial valley, between high, grassy hills, com- 
 pletely covered with what at a distance resembled loose boards, 
 but which were actually the long marble seats of the stadium. 
 Urging our horses over piles of loose blocks, we reached the 
 base of the theatre, climbed the fragments that cumber the 
 main entrance, and looked on the spacious arena and galleries 
 within. Although greatly ruined, the materials of the whole 
 structure remain, and might be put together again. It is a 
 grand wreck ; the colossal fragments which have tumbled from 
 the arched proscenium fill the arena, and the rows of seats, 
 though broken and disjointed, still retain their original order 
 It is somewhat more than a semicircle, the radius being about 
 one hundred and eighty feet. The original height was upwards 
 of fifty feet, and there were fifty rows of seats in all, 
 each row capable of seating two hundred persons, so that 
 the number of spectators who could be accommodated was 
 eight thousand. 
 
 The fragments cumbering the arena were enormous, and 
 highly interesting from their character. There were rid 
 
 13*
 
 298 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 blocffg of cornice, ten feet long ; fluted and reeded pillars 
 great arcs of heavily-carved sculpture, which appeared to havt 
 served as architraves from pillar to pillar, along the face of 
 the proscenium, where there was every trace of having been a 
 colonnade ; and other blocks sculptured with figures of nni- 
 tnals in alto-relievo. There were generally two figures on each 
 block, and among those which could be recognized were the 
 dog and the lion. Doors opened from the proscenium into the 
 retiring-rooms of the actors, under which were the vaults 
 where the beasts were kept. A young fox or jackal started 
 from his siesta as we entered the theatre, and took refuge 
 under the loose blocks. Looking backwards through the 
 stadium from the seats of the theatre, we had a lovely view of 
 the temple, standing out clear and bright in the midst of the 
 summer plain, with the snow-streaked summits of Murad Dagb 
 in the distance. It was a picture which I shall long remem- 
 oer. The desolation of the magnificent ruins was made all 
 the more impressive by the silent, solitary air of the region 
 around them. 
 
 Leaving Chavdur in the afternoon, we struck northward, 
 down the valley of the Rbyndacus, over tracts of rolling land, 
 interspersed with groves of cedar and pine. There were so 
 many branch roads and crossings that we could not fail to go 
 wrong ; and after two or three hours found ourselves in 
 the midst of a forest, on the broad top of a mountain, without 
 nny road at all. There were some herdsmen tending their 
 flocks near at hand, but they could give us no satisfactory 
 direction. We thereupon took our own course, and soon 
 brought up on the brink of a precipice, overhanging a deep 
 ralley. Away to the eastward we caught a glimpse of the
 
 JAMP AT DAGHJE KOI. 209 
 
 Rhyndacns, and the wooden minaret of a little village on nis 
 banks. Following the edge of the precipice,. we came at last 
 to a glen, down which ran a rough footpath that finally 
 conducted us, by a long road through the forests, to thf. 
 Tillage of Daghje Koi, where we are now encamped. 
 
 The place seems to be devoted to the making of flints, and 
 the streets are filled with piles of the chipped fragments. Our 
 tent is pitched on the bank of the river, in a barren meadow 
 The people tell us that the whole region round about has just 
 been visited by a plague of grasshoppers, which have destroyed 
 their crops. Our beasts have wandered off to the hills, 
 in search for grass, and the disconsolate Hadji is hunting 
 them. Achmet, the katurgee, lies near the fire, sick ; Mr 
 Harrison complains of fever, and Francois moves about lan- 
 guidly, with a dismal countenance. So here we are in th soli 
 tndes of Bithynia, but there is no God but God, ano that 
 which is destined comes to pass.
 
 300 THE LANDS OF THK SARACEN. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 THE MTSIAN OLYMPUS. 
 
 I9ruey Down the Valky The Plague of Grasshoppers A Defile The Town cf Tau 
 shanlii The Camp of Famine We leave tne Rhyndacus The Base cf Olympus- 
 Primeval Forests The Guard-House Scenery of the Summit Forests of Beech- 
 Saw-Mills Descent of the Mountain The View of Olympus Morning The Land of 
 Harvest Aineghiol A Showery Ride The Plain of Brousa The Structure of Olym 
 pus We reach Brousa The Tent is Furled. 
 
 " I looked yet farther and higher, and saw in the heavens a silvery cloud that stood 
 fast, and still against the breeze ; * * * * and so it was as a sign and a testimony 
 almost as a call from the neglected gods, that I now saw and acknowledged the snowy 
 crown of the Mysian Olympus !" KINQOKK. 
 
 BROCSA, July 9, 1852. 
 
 PROM Daghje Koi, there were two roads to Taushanlu, but the 
 people informed us that the one which led across the moun- 
 tains was difficult to find, and almost impracticable. We 
 therefore took the river road, which we found picturesque in 
 the highest degree. The narrow dell of the Rhyndacus wound 
 through a labyrinth of mountains, sometimes turning at sharp 
 angles between craggy buttresses, covered with forests, and 
 sometimes broadening out into a sweep of valley, where the 
 villagers were working in companies among the grain and 
 poppy fields. The banks of the stream were lined with oak, 
 willow and sycamore, and forests of pine, descending from the 
 mountains, frequently overhung the road. We met numbers
 
 THE PLAGUE OF GRASSHOPPERS. 301 
 
 of peasants, going to and from the fields, and once a company 
 of some twenty women, who, on seeing us, clustered together 
 like a flock of frightened sheep, and threw their mantles over 
 their heads. They had curiosity enough, however, to peep at 
 ns as we went by, and I made them a salutation, whicL they 
 returned, and then burst into a chorus of hearty laughter. All 
 this region was ravaged by a plague of grasshoppers. The 
 earth was black with them in many places, and our horses 
 ploughed up a living spray, as they drove forward through the 
 meadows. Every spear of grass was destroyed, and the wheat 
 and rye fields were terribly cut up. We passed a large crag 
 where myriads of starlings had built their nests, and every 
 starling had a grasshopper in his mouth. 
 
 We crossed the river, in order to pass a narrow. defile, by 
 which it forces its way through the rocky heights of Dumanidj 
 Dagh. Soon after passing the ridge, a broad and beautiful 
 valley expanded before us. It was about ten miles in breadth, 
 nearly level, and surrounded by picturesque ranges of wooded 
 mountains. It was well cultivated, principally in rye and pop- 
 pies, and more thickly populated than almost any part of 
 Europe. The tinned tops of the minarets of Taushanlii shone 
 over the top of a hill in front, and there was a large towj 
 nearly opposite, on the other bank of the Rhyndacus, and 
 seven small villages scattered about in various directions. Most 
 of the latter, however, were merely the winter habitations of 
 the herdsmen, who are now living in tents on ths mountain 
 tops All over the valley, the peasants were at work in the 
 harvest-fields, cutting and binding grain, gathering opium from 
 the poppies, or weeding the young tobacco. In the south, over 
 the rim of the hill? that shut in this pastoral solitude, rose th
 
 302 THE LANDS OK THE SARACEN. 
 
 long blue summits of Urus Dagh. We rode into Taushanlii 
 which is a long town. Glling up a hollow between two stony 
 hills. The houses are all of stone, two stories high, with tiled 
 roofs and chimneys, so that, but for the clapboarded and 
 shingled minarets, it would answer for a North-Geruiaii 
 tillage. 
 
 The streets were nearly deserted, and even in the bazaars, 
 w hich are of some extent, we found but few persons. Those 
 few, however, showed a laudable curijsity with regard to us, 
 clustering about us whenever we stopped, and staring at 
 us with provoking pertinacity. We had some difficulty iu 
 procuring information concerning the road, the directions being 
 so contradictory that we were as much in the dark as ever. 
 We lost half an hour in wandering among the hills ; and, after 
 travelling four hours over piny uplands, without finding the 
 village of Kara Koi, encamped on a dry plain, on the western 
 bank of the river. There was not a spear of grass for the 
 beasts, everything being eaten up by the grasshoppers, and 
 there were no Turcomans near who could supply us with food. 
 So we dined on hard bread and black coffee, and our forlorn 
 beasts walked languidly about, cropping the dry stalks of weeds 
 and the juiceless roots of the dead grass. 
 
 We crossed the river next morning, and took a road follow- 
 ing its course, and shaded with willows and sycamores. The 
 lofty, wooded ranges of the Mysiau Olympus lay before us 
 s.iul our day's work was to pass them. After passing the vil- 
 lage of Kara Koi, we left the valley of the Rhyudacus, and 
 commenced ascending one of the long, projecting spurs thrust 
 oat from the main chain of Olympus. At first we rode 
 through thickets of scrubby cedar, but soon came to magnifi
 
 PRIMEVAL FORESTS 303 
 
 cent pine k/rests, that grow taller and sturdier tnt higher we 
 clomb. A superb mountain landscape opened behind us. The 
 valleys sank deeper and deeper, and at last disappeared behind 
 the great ridges that heaved themselves out of the wildernesi 
 of smaller hills. All these ridges were covered with forests , 
 and as we looked backwards out of the tremendous gulf up the 
 sides of which we were climbing, the scenery was wholly wild 
 and uncultivated. Our path hung on the imminent side 
 of a chasm so steep that one slip might have been destructioc 
 to both horse and rider. Far below us, at the bottom of the 
 chasm, roared an invisible torrent. The opposite side, vapory 
 p rom its depth, rose like an immense wall against Heaven. 
 The pines were eveu grander than those in the woods of 
 Phrygia. Here they grew taller and more dense, hanging 
 their cloudy boughs over the giddy depths, and clutching with 
 desperate roots to the almost perpendicular sides of the gorges. 
 In many places they were the primeval forests of Olympus, 
 and the Hamadryads were not yet frightened from their haunts 
 Thus, slowly toiling up through the sublime wilderness, 
 breathing the cold, pure air of those lofty regions, we came at 
 last to a little stream, slowly trickling down the bed of the 
 gorge. It was shaded, not by the pine, but by the Northern 
 beech, with its white trunk and close, confidential boughs, 
 made for the talks of lovers and Jhe meditations of poets. 
 Here we stopped to breakfast, but there was nothing for the 
 poor beasts to eat, and they waited for us droopingly, with 
 their heads thrust together. While we sat there three 
 camels descended to the stream, and after them a guard with 
 a long gun He was a well-made man, with a brown face, 
 keen, black eye, and piratical air, and would have made a
 
 804 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 hero of modern romance. Higher up we came to a guard 
 house, on a little cleared space, surrounded by beech forests 
 It was a rough stone hut, with a white flag planted on a pole 
 before it, and a miniature water-wheel, running a miniature 
 paw at a most destructive rate, beside the door. 
 
 Continuing our way, we entered on a region such as I had 
 no idea could be found in Asia. The mountains, from the 
 bottoms of the gorges to their topmost summits, were covered 
 with the most superb forests of beech I ever saw masses of 
 impenetrable foliage, of the most brilliant green, touched here 
 and there by the darker top of a pine. Our road was through 
 a deep, dark shade, and on either side, up and down, we saw 
 but a cool, shadowy solitude, sprinkled with dots of emerald 
 light, and redolent with the odor of damp earth, moss, and 
 dead leaves. It was a forest, the counterpart of which could 
 only be found in America such primeval magnitude of growth, 
 such wild luxuriance, such complete solitude and silence ! 
 Through the shafts of the pines we had caught glorious 
 glimpses of the blue mountain world below us ; but now the 
 beech folded us in its arms, and whispered in our ears the 
 legends of our Northern home. There, on the ridges of the 
 Mysian Olympus, sacred to the bright gods of Grecian song, I 
 found the inspiration of our darker and colder clime and age. 
 " O gloriosi spinti degli boschi /" 
 
 I could scarcely contain myself, from surprise and joy. 
 Frui^ois failed to find French adjectives sufficient for his admi- 
 ration, and even our cheating katurgees were touched by the 
 spirit of the scene. On either side, whenever a glimpse could 
 be had through the bonirlis, wo looked upon leaning walls of 
 trees, whose tall, rounded tops basked in the sunshine, whil
 
 THE SUMMIT OF OLYMPUS. 306 
 
 their bases were wrapped in the shadows cast by themselves 
 Thus, folded over each other like scales, or feathers on 8 
 falcon's wing, they clad the mountain. The trees were taller, 
 and had a darker and more glossy leaf than the American 
 beech. By and by patches of blue shone between the boughs 
 before us, a sign that the summit was near, and before one 
 o'clock we stood upou the narrow ridge forming the crest of 
 the mountain. Here, although we were between five and six 
 thousand feet above the sea, the woods of beech were a 
 hundred feet in height, and shut out all view. On the 
 northern side the forest scenery is even grander than on the 
 southern. The beeches are magnificent trees, straight as an 
 arrow, and from a hundred to a hundred and fifty feet in height 
 Only now and then could we get any view beyond the shadow) 
 depths sinking below us, and then it was only to see similai 
 mountain ranges, buried in foliage, and rolling far behind each 
 other into the distance. Twice, in the depth of the gorge, we 
 saw a saw-mill, turned by the snow-cold torrents. Piles of 
 pine and beechen boards were heaped around them, and the 
 sawyers were busily plying their lonely business. The axe of 
 the woodman echoed but rarely through the gulfs, though many 
 large trees lay felled by the roadside. The rock, which 
 occasionally cropped out of the soil, was white marble, and 
 there was a shining precipice of it, three hundred feet high, on 
 the opposite side of the gorge. 
 
 After four hours of steady descent, during the last hoar of 
 which we passed into a forest entirely of oaks, we reached the 
 first terrace at the base of the mountain. Here, as I was 
 riding in advance of the caravan, I met a company of Turkish 
 officers, who saluted me with an inclination of the most pro
 
 308 THE LANDS OF THP SARACFN. 
 
 found reverence. I replied with due Oriental gravity, whicl 
 seemed to justify their respect, for when they met Fra^oia, 
 tfho is everywhere looked upon as a Turkish janissary, th&y 
 asked : "Is not your master a Shekh el-Islam ?" " You art 
 right : he is," answered the unscrupulous Greek A Shekh 
 el-Islam is a sort of high-priest, corresponding in dignity to a 
 Cardinal in the Roman Catholic Church. It is rather singular 
 that I am generally taken for a Secretary of some kind, or a 
 Moslem priest, while my companion, who, by this time, has 
 assumed the Oriental expression, is supposed to be either medi- 
 cal or military. 
 
 We had no sooner left the forests and entered the copse- 
 wood which followed, than the blue bulk of Olympus suddenly 
 appeared in the west, towering far into the sky. It is a niagni- 
 ficent mountain, with a broad though broken summit, streaked 
 with snow. Before us, stretching away almost to his base, lay 
 a grand mountain slope, covered with orchards and golden 
 harvest-fields. Through lanes of hawthorn and chestnut trees 
 in blossom, which were overgrown with snowy clematis and 
 made a shady roof above our heads, we reached the little 
 village of Orta Koi, and encamped in a grove of pear-trees. 
 There was grass for our beasts, who were on the brink of 
 starvation, and fowls and cucumbers for ourselves, who had 
 been limited to bread and coffee for two days. But as one 
 necessity was restored, another disappeared. We had smoked 
 the last of our delicious Aleppo tobacco, and that which the 
 villagers gave us was of very inferior quality. Nevertheless, 
 the pipe which we smoked with them in the twilight, beside the 
 marble fountain, promoted that peace of mind which is tb 
 wsetest preparative of slumber.
 
 THE LAND OF HAKVEST. 301 
 
 Francois was determined to fiuish our journey to-day. He 
 had a preseutimeut that we should reach Brousa, although I 
 expected nothing of the kind. He called us long before th 
 lovely pastoral valley in which we lay had a suspicion of the 
 sun, but just in time to see the first rays strike the high head 
 of Olympus. The long lines of snow blushed with an opaline 
 radiance against the dark-blue of the morning sky, and all the 
 forests and fields below lay still, and cool, and dewy, lapped ic 
 dreams yet unrecalled by the fading moon. I bathed my face 
 in the cold well that perpetually poured over its full brim, 
 drank the coffee which FranQois had already prepared, sprang 
 into the saddle, and began the last day of our long pilgrimage. 
 The tent was folded, alas ! for the last time ; and now fare- 
 well to the freedom of our wandering life ! Shall I ever feel 
 it again ? 
 
 The dew glistened on the chestnuts and the walnuts, on the 
 wild grape-vines and wild roses, that shaded our road, as we fol- 
 lowed the course of an Olympian stream through a charming 
 dell, into the great plain below. Everywhere the same bounti- 
 ful soil, the same superb orchards, the same ripe fields of wheat 
 and barley, and silver rye. The peasants were at work, men 
 and women, cutting the grain with rude scythes, binding it into 
 sheaves, and stacking it in the fields. As we rode over the 
 plain, the boys came running out to us with handfuls of grain, 
 saluting us from afar, bidding us welcome as pilgrims, wishing 
 as as many years of prosperity as there were kernels in then 
 sheaves, and kissing the hands that gave them the harvest-toll. 
 The whole landscape had an air of plenty, peace, and content- 
 ment. The people all greeted us cordially; and once a Mevlevi 
 Dervish and a stately Turk, riding in company, saluted me sc
 
 308 THE LANDS OF THK SARACER. 
 
 respectfully, stopping to speak with me, that 1 quite regretted 
 being obliged to assume an air of dignified reserve, and rid 
 away from them. 
 
 Ere long, we saw the two white minarets of Aineghiol, 
 above the line of orchards in front of us, and, in three houn 
 after starting, reached the place. It is a smiJl town, not par 
 ticularly clean, but with brisk-looking bazaars. In one of the 
 houses, I saw half-a-dozen pairs of superb antlers, the spoils 
 of Olympian stags. The bazaar is covered with a trollised 
 roof, overgrown with grape-vines, which hang enormous bunches 
 of young grapes over the shop-boards. We were cheered by 
 the news that Brousa was only eight hours distant, and I now 
 began to hope that we might reach it. We jogged on as fast 
 as we could urge our weary horses, passed another belt of 
 orchard land, paid more harvest-tolls to the reapers, and com 
 menced ascending a chain of low hills which divides the plait' 
 of Aineghiol from that of Brousa. 
 
 At a fountain called the ' ' mid-day konnak" we met some 
 travellers coming from Brousa, who informed us that we couid 
 get there by the time of asser prayer. Rounding the north- 
 eastern base of Olympus, we now saw before us the long head 
 laud which forms his south-western extremity. A storm was 
 arising from the sea of Marmora, and heavy white clouds set- 
 tled on the topmost summits of the mountain. The wind began 
 to blow fresh and cool, and when we had reached a height 
 overlooking the deep valley, in the bottom of which lies the 
 picturesque village of Ak-su, there were long showery iines 
 coming up from the sea, and a filmy sheet of gray rain 
 descended between us and Olympus, throwing his vast bulk far 
 Into the background. At Ak-su, the first shower met us, pour
 
 THE PI.AIX OK BROl'SA. 309 
 
 tag so fast and thick that we were obliged to put on our capotes 
 and halt under a walnut-tree for shelter. But it soon passe-1 
 over, laying the dust, for the time, and making the air sweet 
 and cool. 
 
 We pushed forward ever heights covered with young forests 
 of oak, which are protected by the government, in order that 
 they may furnish ship-timber. On the right, we looked down 
 into magnificent valleys, opening towards the west into the 
 the plain of Brousa ; but when, in the middle of the afternoon, 
 we reached the last height, and saw the great plain itself, the 
 climax was attained. It was the crown of all that we had yet 
 Been. This superb plain or valley, thirty miles long, by five in 
 breadth, spread away to the westward, between the mighty 
 mass of Olympus on the one side, and a range of lofty moun- 
 tains on the other, the sides of which presented a charming 
 mixture of forest and cultivated land. Olympus, covered with 
 woods of beech and oak, towered to the clouds that concealed 
 his snowy head ; and far in advance, under the last cape he 
 threw out towards the sea, the hundred minarets of Brousa 
 stretched in a white and glittering line, like the masts of a 
 navy, whose hulls were buried in the leafy sea. No words can 
 describe the beauty of the valley, the blending of the richest 
 cultivation with the wildest natural luxuriance. Here were 
 gardens and orchards ; there groves of superb chestnut-trees 
 in blossom ; here, fields of golden grain or green pasture-land ; 
 there, Arcadian thickets overgrown with clematis and wild 
 rose ; here, lofty poplars growing beside the streams ; there, 
 spiry cypresses looking down from the slopes : and all blended 
 In one whole, so rich, so grand, so gorgeous, tl at I scarcely 
 Breathed when it first burst upon me.
 
 310 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEK 
 
 And nuw we descended to its level, and rode westward along 
 the base of Olympus, grandest of Asian mountains Thii 
 after-storm view, although his head was shrouded, was sublime 
 His base is a vast sloping terrace, leagues in length, restm 
 bliug the flights* of steps by which the ancient temples were 
 approached. From this foundation rise four mighty pyramids, 
 two thousand feet in height, and completely mantled with 
 forests. They are very nearly regular in their form and size, 
 and are flanked to the east and west by headlands, or abut- 
 ments, the slopes of which are longer and more gradual, as it 
 to strengthen the great. structure. Piled upon the four pyra- 
 mids are others nearly as large, above whose green pinnacles 
 appear still other and higher ones, bare and bleak, and cluster- 
 ing thickly together, to uphold the great central dome of snow. 
 Between the bases of the lowest, the streams which drain the 
 gorges of the mountain issue forth, cutting their way through 
 the foundation terrace, and widening their beds downwards to 
 the plain, like the throats of bugles, where, in winter rains, 
 they pour forth the hoarse, grand monotone of their Olympian 
 music. These broad beds are now dry and stony tracts, dotted 
 ill over with clumps of dwarfed sycamores and threaded by 
 the summer streams, shrunken in bulk, but still swift, cold, and 
 clear as ever. 
 
 We reached the city before night, and Francois is glad to 
 find his presentiment fulfilled. We have safely passed through 
 the untravelled heart of Asia Minor, and are now almost iu 
 gight of Europe. The camp-fire is extinguished ; the tent is 
 furled. We are no longer happy nomads, masquerading in 
 Moslem garb. We shall soon become prosaic Christians, and 
 meekly hold out our wrists for the handcuffs of Civilization
 
 THE TENT IS FTRLBTP 
 
 311 
 
 A.h, prate as we will of the progress of the rac , we are but 
 forging additional fetters, unless we preserve thaf lealthy phy- 
 sical development, those pare pleasures of mere .nimal exist 
 ence, which are now only to be found among out r.mi-barbaric 
 brethren. Oar progress is nervous, when it si -aid be mus- 
 cular.
 
 312 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 BROUSA AND THE SEA OF MARMORA. 
 
 The City of Bronsa Return to Civilisation Storm The Kalputcha Hammam -A Bol 
 Bath A Foretaste of Paradise The Streets and Bazaars of Brousa The Mosque 
 The Tombs of the Ottoman Sultans Disappearance of the Katurgees We start foi 
 Meudania The Sea of Marmora Moudania Passport Difficulties A Greek Caique 
 Breakfast with the Fishermen A Torrid Voyage The Princes' Islands Prinkiio- 
 Distant View of Constantinople We enter the Golden Horn. 
 
 "And we glode fast o'er a pellucid plain 
 Of waters, azure with the noontide ray. 
 Ethereal mountains shone around a fane 
 Stood in the midst, beyond green isles which lay 
 On the blue, sunny deep, resplendent far away." 
 
 SHKLLBT. 
 
 OoirsTAimsopLB, Monday, July 12, 1852 
 
 BEFORE entering Brousa, we passed the whole length of the 
 town, which is built on the side of Olympus, and on three 
 bluffs or spurs wjiich project from it. The situation is more 
 picturesque than that of Damascus, and from the remarkable 
 number of its white domes and minarets, shooting upward from 
 the groves of chestnut, walnut, and cypress-trees, the city is 
 even more beautiful There are large mosques on all the most 
 prominent points, and, near the centre of the city, the ruins of 
 an ancient castle, built upon a crag. The place, as we rode 
 along, presented a shifting diorama of delightful views. The 
 hotel is at the extreme western end of the city, not far from it*
 
 RKTURN TO CIVILIZATION STORM 813 
 
 celebrated hot baths. It is a new building, in European style, 
 and being built high on the slope, commands one of the most 
 glorious prospects I ever enjoyed from windows made with 
 hands. What a comfort it was to go up stairs into a clean, 
 bright, cheerful room ; to drop at full length on a bread divan ; 
 to eat a Christian meal ; to smoke a narghileh of the softest 
 Persian tobacco ; and finally, most exquisite o? all luxuries, to 
 creep between cool, clean sheets, on a curtained bed, and find 
 : t impossible to sleep on account of the delicious novelty of the 
 sensation 1 
 
 At night, another storm came up from the Sea of Marmora 
 Tremendous peals of thunder echoed in the gorges of Olympus 
 and sharp, broad flashes of lightning gave us blinding glimpses 
 of the glorious plain below. The rain fell in heavy showers, 
 but our tent-life was just closed, and we sat securely at our 
 windows and enjoyed the sublime scene. 
 
 The sun, rising over the distant mountains of Isnik, shone 
 full in my face, awaking me to a morning view of the valley, 
 which, freshened by the night's thunder-storm, shone wonder- 
 fully bright and clear. After coffee, we went to see the baths, 
 which are on the side of the mountain, a mile from the hotel 
 The finest one, called the Kalputcha Hammam, is at the base 
 of the hill. The entrance hall is very large, and covered by two 
 lofty domes. In the centre is a large marble urn-shaped foun- 
 tain, pouring out an abundant flood of cold water. Out of ' 
 this, we passed into an immense rotunda, filled with steam and 
 traversed by long pencils of light, falling from holes in the roof. 
 A small but very beautiful marble fountain cast up a jet of cold 
 water in the centre. Beyond this was still another hall, of the 
 .ame size, but with a circular basin, twenty-five feet in diame 
 
 14
 
 814 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 ter, in the centre. The floor was marble mosaic, and the basit 
 was lined with brilliantly-colored tiles. It was kept constantly 
 fall by the natural hot streams of the mountain. There were 
 a number of persons in the pool, but the atmosphere was 9-1 
 hot that we did not long disturb them by our curiosity. 
 
 We then ascended to the Armenian bath, which is the 
 neatest of all, but it was given up to the women, and we were 
 therefore obliged to go to a Turkish one adjoining. The room 
 into which we were taken was so hot that a violent perspira- 
 tion immediately broke out all over my body, and by the time 
 the ddleks were ready to rasp me, I was as limp as a wet towel, 
 and as plastic as a piece of putty. The man who took me was 
 sweated away almost to nothing ; his very bones appeared tc 
 have become soft and pliable. The water was slightly sulphu- 
 reous, and the pailfuls which he dashed over my head were so 
 hot that they produced the effect of a chill a violent nervous 
 shudder. The temperature of the springs is 180 Fahrenheit, 
 and I suppose the tank into which he afterwards plunged me 
 must have been nearly up to the mark. When, at last, I was 
 laid on the couch, my body was so parboiled that I perspired 
 at all pores for full an hour a feeling too warm and unpleasant 
 at first, but presently merging into a mood which was wholly 
 rapturous and heavenly. I was like a soft whi ,e cloud, that 
 rests all of a summer afternoon on the peak of a distant moun- 
 tain. I felt the couch on which I lay no more than the cloud 
 might feel the cliffs on which it lingers so airily. I saw 
 nothing but peaceful, glorious sights ; spaces of clear blue 
 sky ; stretches of quiet lawns ; lovely valleys threaded by the 
 gentlest of streams ; azure lakes, unruffled by a breath ; 
 calms far out on mid-ocean, and Alpine peaks bathed in the
 
 THE STREETS OF BROUSA. 315 
 
 3ush of an autumnal sunset. My mind retraced all GUI jour- 
 ney from Aleppo, and there was a balo over every spot I had 
 visited. I dwelt with rapture on the piny hills of Phrygia, en 
 the gorges of Taurus, on the beechen solitudes of Olympus 
 Would to heaven that I might describe those scenes as I then 
 felt them ! All was revealed to me : the heart of Nature lay 
 bare, and I read the meaning and knew the inspiration of hei 
 every mood. Then, as my frame grew cooler, and the fragrant 
 clouds of the narghileh, which had helped my dreams, dimin- 
 ished, I was like that same summer cloud, when it feels a 
 gentle breeze and is lifted above the hills, floating along inde 
 pendent of Earth, but for its shadow. 
 
 Brousa is a very long, straggling place, extending for three 
 or four miles along the side of the mountain, but presenting a 
 very picturesque appearance from every point. The houses 
 are nearly all three stories high, built of wood and unburnt 
 bricks, and each story projects over the other, after the manner 
 of German towns of the Middle Ages. They have not the 
 hanging balconies which I have found so quaint and pleasing 
 in Kiutahya. But, especially in the Greek quarter, many of 
 them are plastered and painted of some bright color, which 
 gives a gay, cheerful appearance to the streets. Besides, 
 Brousa is the cleanest Turkish town I have seen. The moun- 
 tain streams traverse most of the streets, and every heavy rain 
 washes them out thoroughly. The whole city has a brisk, 
 active air, and the workmen appear both more skilful and 
 more industrious than in the other parts of Asia Minor. I 
 noticed a great many workers in copper, iron, and wood, aud 
 an extensive manufactory of shoes and saddles. Brousa, how- 
 ever, is principally noted for its silks, which are pioduoed in
 
 31ft THE LANDS OF THE ?ARACEN 
 
 this valley, and others to the South and East. The manufac 
 tories are near the city. I looked over some of the fabrics iu 
 the bazaars, but found them nearly all imitations of European 
 stuffs, woven in mixed silk and cotton, and even more costly 
 than the silks of Damascus. 
 
 We passed the whole length of the bazaars, and then, 
 turning up one of the side streets on our right, crossed a 
 deep ravine by a high stone bridge. Above and below 
 as there were other bridges, under which a stream flowed 
 down from the mountains. Thence we ascended the height, 
 whereon stands the largest and one of the oldest mosques in 
 Brousa. The position is remarkably fine, commanding a view 
 of nearly the whole city and the plain below it. We entered 
 the court-yard boldly, Fran9ois taking the precaution to speak 
 to me only in Arabic, as there was a Turk within. Mr. H. 
 went to the fountain, washed his hands and face, but did not 
 dare to swallow a drop, putting on a most dolorous expression 
 of countenance, as if perishing with thirst. The mosque was 
 a plain, square building, with a large dome and two minarets. 
 The door was a rich and curious specimen of the staladitic 
 style, so frequent in Saracenic buildings. We peeped into the 
 windows, and, although the mosque, which does not appear to 
 be in common use, was darkened, saw enough to show that the 
 interior was quite plain. 
 
 Just above this edifice stands a large octagonal tomb, sur- 
 mounted by a dome, and richly adorned with arabesque cornices 
 and coatings of green and blue tiles. It stood in a small gar- 
 den inclosure, and there was a sort of porter's lodge at the 
 entrance. As we approached, an old gray-bearded man in a 
 green turban came out, and, on Fran9ois requesting <mtranc
 
 THE TOMBS OF THE OTTOMAN SULTANS. 811 
 
 for ns, took a key arid conducted us to the building. He hac 
 not the slightest idea of our being Christians. We took ofl 
 our slippers before touching the lintel of the door, as the place 
 was particularly holy. Then, throwing open the door, the ola 
 man lingered a few moments after we entered, so as not to dis- 
 turb our prayers a mark of great respect. We advanced to 
 the edge of the parapet, turned our faces towards Mecca, and 
 imitated the usual Mohammedan prayer on entering a nosque, 
 by holding both arms outspread for a few moments, the i bring 
 ing the hands together and bowing the face upon theoa. This 
 done, we leisurely examined the building, and the oil man was 
 ready enough to satisfy our curiosity. It was a r'ch and ele- 
 gant structure, lighted from the dome. The wo'is were lined 
 with brilliant tiles, and had an elaborate cornir e, with Arabic 
 inscriptions in gold. The floor was covered with a carpet, 
 whereon stood eight or ten ancient coffins, surrounding a larger 
 one which occupied a raised platform in the centre. They were 
 all of wood, heavily carved, and many of them entirely covered 
 with gilded inscriptions These, according to the old man, 
 were the coffins of the Ottoman Sultans, who had reigned at 
 Brousa previous to the taking of Constantinople, with some 
 members of their families There were four Sultans, among 
 whom were Mahomet I., and a certain Achmet. Orchan, the 
 founder of the Ottoman dynasty, is buried somewhere ia 
 Brousa, and the great central coffin may have been his. Fran- 
 cois and I talked entirely in Arabic, and the old man asked : 
 " Who are these Hadjis ?" whereupon F immediately answered ; 
 " They are Effendis from Baghdad." 
 
 We had intended making the ascent of Olympus, but the 
 lunmit was too thickly covered with clouds. On the morning
 
 318 THK LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 of the second day, therefore, we determined to take up the lin 
 of march for Constantinople. The last scene of our strange, 
 eventful history with the katurgees had just transpired, by 
 their deserting us, being two hundred piastres in our debt. 
 They left their khan on the afternoon after our arrival, ostensi- 
 bly for the purpose of taking their beasts out to pasture, and 
 were never heard of more. We let them go, thankful that 
 they had not played the trick sooner. We engaged fresh 
 horses for Mondania, on the Sea of Marmora, and dispatched 
 Fran9ois in advance, to procure a caique for Constantinople 
 while we waited to have our passports signed. But after 
 waiting an hour, as there was no appearance of the precious 
 documents, we started the baggage also, under the charge of a 
 surroudjee, and remained alone. Another hour passed by, and 
 yet another, and the Bey was still occupied in sleeping off his 
 hunger. Mr. Harrison, ir> desperation, went to the office, and 
 after some delay, received the passports with a vise, but not, as 
 we afterwards discovered, the necessary one. 
 
 It was four o'clock by the time we left Brousa. Our horses 
 were stiff, clumsy pack-beasts ; but, by dint of whips and the 
 sharp shovel-stirrups, we forced them into a trot and made 
 them keep it. The road was well travelled, and by asking 
 everybody we met : "Bou ybl Moudania yedermi 1" (" Is this 
 the way to Moudania?"), we had no difficulty in finding it. 
 The plain in many places is marshy, and traversed by several 
 gtreams. A low range of hills stretches across, and nearly 
 closes it, the united waters finding their outlet by a narrow 
 valley to the north From the top of the hill we had a grand 
 riew, looking back over the plain, with the long line of Bronsa'? 
 minarets glittering through the interminable groves at the foo'
 
 THE SEA OF MARMORA. 819 
 
 of the mountain Olympus now showed a superb outline , th 
 clouds hung about his shoulders, but his snowy head was 
 bare. Before us lay a broad, rich valley, extending in front to 
 the mountains of Moudania. The country was well cultivated 
 with large farming establishments here and there. 
 
 The sun was setting as we reached the summit ridge, where 
 stood a little guard-house. As we rode over the crest, Olym- 
 pus disappeared, and the Sea of Marmora lay before us, spread- 
 ing out from the Gulf of Moudania, which was deep and blue 
 among the hills, to an open line against the sunset. Beyond 
 that misty line lay Europe, which I had not seen for nearly 
 nine months, and the gulf below me was the bound of ray tent 
 and saddle life. But one hour more, old horse ! Have pati- 
 ence with my Ethiopian thong, and the sharp corners of my 
 Turkish stirrups : but one hour more, and I promise never to 
 molest you again ! Our path was downward, and I marvel 
 that the poor brute did not sometimes tumble headlong with 
 me. He had been too long used to the pack, however, and his 
 habits were as settled as a Turk's. We passed a beautiful 
 village in a valley on the right, and came into ol^e groves and 
 vineyards, as the dusk was creeping on. It was a lovely 
 country of orchards and gardens, with fountains spouting by 
 the wayside, and country houses perched on the steeps. In 
 another h 3ur, we reached the* sea-shore. It was now nearly 
 dark, but we could see the tower of Moudania somr distance tc 
 the west. 
 
 Still in a continual trot, we rode on ; and as we Irew near, 
 Mr. H. fired his gun to announce our approach. At the 
 entrance of the town, we found the sourrudjee waitiiw? to con- 
 duce us. We clattered through the rough street? for whai
 
 320 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 seemed an endless length of time. The Rumazan gau had just 
 fired, the minarets were illuminated, and the coffee-houses were 
 filled with people. Finally, Francois, who had been almost ir 
 despair at our non-appearance, hailed us with the welcome 
 news that he had engaged a ca'ique, and that our baggage waa 
 already embarked. We only needed the vises of the authori- 
 ties, in order to leave. He took our teskeres to get them, and 
 we went upon the balcony of a coffee-house overhanging the 
 sea, and smoked a narghileh. 
 
 But here there was another history. The teskeres had not 
 been properly vised at Brousa, and the Governor at first 
 decided to send us back. Taking Fran9ois, however, for a 
 Turk, and finding that we had regularly passed quarantine, he 
 signed them after a delay of an hour and a half, and we left 
 the shore, weary, impatient, and wolfish with twelve hours' 
 fasting. A cup of Brousan beer and a piece of bread brought 
 as into a better mood, and I, who began to feel sick from the 
 rolling of the caique, lay down on my bed, which was spread 
 at the bottom, and found a kind of uneasy sleep. The sail was 
 hoisted at first, to get us across the mouth of the Gulf, but 
 soon the Greeks took to their oars They were silent, how- 
 ever, and though I only slept by fits, the night wore away 
 rapidly. As the dawn was deepening, we ran into a little 
 bight in the northern side of a promontory, where a picturesque 
 Greek village stood at the foot of the mountains. The houses 
 were of wood, with balconies overgrown with grape-vines, and 
 there was a fountain of cold, excellent water on the very beach. 
 Some Greek boatmen were smoking in the portico of a cafe on 
 shore and two fishermen, who had been out before dawn tc 
 catch sardines, were emptying their nets of the spoil. Oui
 
 A TORRID VOYAGE. 821 
 
 men kindled a fire on the sand, and roasted us a dish of the 
 fish. Som<; of the last night 3 hunger remained, and the meal 
 had enough of that seasoning to be delicious. 
 
 After giving our men an hour's rest, we set off for the 
 Princes' Islands, which now appeared to the north, over the 
 glassy plain of the sea. The Gulf of Iskmid, or Nieornedia, 
 opened away to the east, between two mountain headlands. 
 The morning was intensely hot and sultry, and but for the pro- 
 tection of an umbrella, we should have suffered greatly. There 
 was a fiery blue vapor on the sea, and a thunder-cloud hid the 
 shores of Thrace. Now and then came a light puff of wind, 
 whereupon the men would ship the little mast, and crowd ou 
 au enormous quantity of sail. So, sailing and rowing, we 
 neared the islands with the storm, but it advanced slowly 
 enough to allow a sight of the mosques of St. Sophia and Sul- 
 tan Achrned, gleaming far and white, like icebergs astray on a 
 torrid sea. Another cloud was pouring its rain over the Asian 
 shore, and we made haste to get to the lauding at Prinkipo 
 before it could reach us. From the south, the group of islands 
 is not remarkable for beauty. Only four of them Prinkipo, 
 Chalki, Prote, and Antigone are inhabited, the other five 
 being merely barren rocks. 
 
 There is an ancient convent on the summit of Priukipo, 
 where the Empress Irene the contemporary of Charlemagne 
 is buried. The town is on the northern side of the island, and 
 wnsists mostly of the summer residences of Greek and Arme- 
 niaL merchants. Many of these are large and stately houses 
 surrounded with handsome gardens. The streets are shaded 
 with sycamores, and the number of coffee-houses shows that 
 the place is much frequented ou festal days. A company of 
 H*
 
 822 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEX. 
 
 drunken Greeks -were singing in violation of all metre and bar 
 mony a discord the more remarkable, since nothing could b 
 more affectionate than their conduct towards each other. 
 Nearly everybody was in Frank costume, and our Oriental 
 habits, especially the red Tartar boots, attracted much obser 
 vation. I began to feel awkward and absurd, and longed to 
 show myself a Christian once more. 
 
 Leaving Priukipo, we made for Constantinople, whose long 
 array of marble domes and gilded spires gleamed like a far 
 mirage over the waveless sea. It was too faint and distant 
 and dazzling to be substantial. It was like one of those imagi- 
 nary cities which we build in a cloud fused in the light of the 
 setting sun. But as we ueared the point of Chalcedon, running 
 along the Asian shore, those airy piles gathered form and sub- 
 stance. The pinnacles of the Seraglio shot up from the midst 
 of cypress groves ; fantastic kiosks lined the shore ; the mina- 
 rets of St. Sophia and Sultan Achmed rose more clearly against 
 the sky ; and a fleet of steamers and men-of-war, gay with flags, 
 marked the entrance of the Golden Horn. We passed the 
 little bay where St. Chrysostora was buried, the point of Chal- 
 cedon, and now, looking up the renowned Bosphorus, saw the 
 Maiden's Tower, opposite Scutari. An enormous pile, the 
 barracks of the Anatolian soldiery, hangs over the high bank, 
 and, as we row abreast of it, a fresh breeze comes up from the 
 Sea of Marmora. The prow of the caique is turned across the 
 stream, the sail is set, and we glide rapidly and noiselessly over 
 the Bosphorus and into the Golden Horn, between the banks 
 of the Frank and Moslem Pera and Stamboul. Where on 
 the earth shall we find a panorama more magnificent ? 
 
 The air was filled with the shouts and noises of the great
 
 W* ENTER THE GOLDEN HORN. 325 
 
 Oriental metropolis ; the water was alive with caiques and 
 little steamers ; and all the world of work and trade, which 
 had grown almost to be a fable, welcomed us back to its rest- 
 less heart. We threaded our rather perilous way over the 
 populous waves, and landed in a throng of Custom-Hous* 
 officers and porters, on the wharf at Galata
 
 THE LANDS JT THE SARACEN 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 THE NIGHT OF PREDESTINATION. 
 
 Constantinople in Ramaian The Origin of the Fast Nightly Illumination*- The Night 
 of Predestination The Golden Horn at Night Illumination of the Si-orei The 
 Cannon of Constantinople A Fiery Panorama The Sultan's Caique Close of tl.r 
 Celebration A Turkish Mob The Dancing Dervishes. 
 
 " Skies full of splendid moons and shooting stars, 
 And spouting exhalations, diamond fires." EJUTS. 
 
 Wednf-doy, Jiuy 14, 1362. 
 
 CONSTANTINOPLE, during the month of Ramazan, presents a 
 very different aspect from Constantinople at other times. The 
 city, it is true, is much more stern and serious during the day; 
 there is none of that gay, careless life of the Orient which you 
 see in Smyrna, Cairo, and Damascus ; but when once the sun- 
 set gun has fired, and the painful fast is at an end, the picture 
 changes as if by magic. In all the outward symbols of their 
 religion, the Mussulmans show their joy at being relieved from 
 what they consider a sacred duty. During the day, it is quite 
 a science to keep the appetite dormant, and the people not only 
 abstain from eating and drinking, but as much as possible from 
 the sight of food. In the bazaars, you se the famished mer- 
 chants either sitting, propped back against their cushions, with 
 the shawl about their stomachs, tightened so as to prevent the 
 void under it from being so sensibly felt, or lying at full length
 
 THE ORIGIN OF RAMAZAN. 326 
 
 in the vain attempt to sleep. It is whispered here that many 
 of the Turks will both eat and smoke, when there is no chanc* 
 of detection, but no one would dare infringe the fast in public. 
 Most of the mechanics and porters are Armenians, and tba 
 boatmen are Greeks. 
 
 I have endeavored to ascertain the origin of this fast mouth. 
 The Syrian Christians say that it is a mere imitation of an 
 incident which happened to Mahomet. The Prophet, having 
 lost his camels, went day after day seeking them in the Desert, 
 taking no nourishment from the time of his departure in the 
 morning until his return at sunset. After having sought them 
 thus daily, for the period of one entire moon, he found them, 
 and in token of joy, gave a three days' feast to the tribe, now 
 imitated in the festival of Bairam, which lasts for three days 
 after the close of Ramazan. This reason, however, seems too 
 trifling for such a rigid fast, and the Turkish tradition, that the 
 Koran was sent down from heaven during this month, offers a 
 more probable explanation. During the fast, the Mussulmans, 
 as is quite natural, are much more fanatical than at other 
 times. They are obliged to attend prayers at the mosque 
 every night, or to have a mollah read the Koran to them at 
 their own houses. All the prominent features of their religion 
 are kept constantly before their eyes, and their natural aver 
 sion to the Giaour, or Infidel, is increased tenfold. I have 
 heard of several recent instances in which strangers have been 
 ftxpcsed to insults and indignities. 
 
 At dusk the minarets are illuminated ; a peal of cannon from 
 the Arsenal, echoed by others from the forts along the Bos 
 phams, relieves the suffering followers of the Prophet, and aftei 
 an hour of silence, during which they are all at home, feast
 
 326 THE LAXDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 ing, the streets are filled with uoisy crowds, and every coffea 
 shop is thronged. Every night *here are illuminations along 
 the water, which, added to the crowns of light sparkling on 
 the hundred minarets aud domes, give a magical effect to th 
 night view of the city. Towards midnight there is again a 
 season of comparative quiet, most of the inhabitants having 
 retired to rest ; but, about two hours afterwards a watchman 
 comes along with a big drum, which he beats lustily before the 
 doors of the Faithful, in order to arouse them in time to eat 
 again before the daylight-gun, which announces the commence- 
 ment of another day's fast. 
 
 Last night was the holiest night of Islam, being the twenty 
 fifth of the fast. It is called the Leilet-d-Kadr, or Night of the 
 Predestination, the anniversary of that on which the Koran was 
 miraculously communicated to the Prophet. On this night 
 the Sultan, accompanied by his whole suite, attends service at 
 the mosque, and on his return to the Seraglio, the Sultana 
 Valide, or Sultana-Mother, presents him with a virgin from one 
 3f the noble families of Constantinople. Formerly, St. Sophip 
 was the theatre of this celebration, but this year the Sultan 
 chose the Mosque of Tophaneh, which stands on the shore 
 probably as being nearer to his imperial palace at Beshiktashe, 
 on the Bosphorus. I consider myself fortunate in having 
 reached Constantinople in season to witness this ceremony, and 
 the illumination of the Golden Horn, which accompanies it. 
 
 After sunset the mosques crowning the hills of Stamboul, the 
 mosque of Tophaneh, on this side of the water, and the Turkish 
 men-of-war and steamers afloat at the mouth of the Golden 
 Horn, began to blaze with more than their usual brilliance 
 The outlines of the minarets and domes were drawn iu light oc
 
 THE GOLDEN HORN AT NI3HT. 881 
 
 the deepening gloom, and the masts and yards of the vesad 
 were hung with colored lanterns. Prom the battery in front 
 of the mosque and arsenal of Tophaneh a blaze of intense lighi 
 streamed out over the water, illuminating the gliding forms of 
 a thousand caiques, and the dark hulls of the yessels lying at 
 anchor. The water is the best place from which to view tli 
 illumination, and a party of us descended to the landing-place. 
 The streets of Tophaneh were crowded with swarms of Turks, 
 Greeks and Armenians. The square around the fountain was 
 brilliantly lighted, and venders of sherbet and kaimak were 
 ranged along the sidewalks. In the neighborhood of the 
 mosque the crowd was so dense that we could with difficulty 
 make our way through. All the open space next the water was 
 filled up with the clumsy arabas, or carriages of the Turks, in 
 which sat the wives of the Pashas and other dignitaries. 
 
 We took a caique, and were soon pulled out into the midst oi 
 a multitude of other caiques, swarming all over the surface of 
 the Golden Horn. The view from this point was strange, 
 fanfristic, yet inconceivably gorgeous. In front, three or four 
 large Turkish frigates lay in the Bosphorus, their hulls and 
 spars outlined in fire against the dark hills and distant twink- 
 ling lights of Asia. Looking to the west, the shores of the 
 Golden Horn were equally traced by the multitude of lani]^ 
 that covered them, and on either side, the hills on which the 
 city is built rose from the water masses of dark buildings, 
 ioHed all over with shafts and domes of the most brilliant 
 light. The gateway on Seraglio Point was illuminated, as well 
 as the quay in front of the mosque of Tophaneh, all the can- 
 aons of the battery being covered with lamps. The commonest 
 objects shared in the .splendor, t-ven a large lever used foi
 
 328 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 hoisting goods being hung with lanterns from top to bottOtt 
 The mosque was a nass of light, and between the tall minaret-, 
 flanking it, burned the inscription, in Arabic characters, " Long 
 life to you, our Sovereign !" 
 
 The discharge of a cannon announced the Sultan's departure 
 from his palace, and immediately the guns on the frigates and 
 the batteries on both shores took up the salute, till the grand 
 echoes, filling the hollow throat of the Golden Horn, crashed 
 from side to side, striking the hills of Scutari and the point of 
 Chalcedon, and finally dying away among the summits of the 
 Princes' Islands, out on the Sea of Marmora. The hulls of the 
 frigates were now lighted up with intense chemical fires, and 
 an abundance of rockets were spouted from their decks. A 
 large Drummond light on Seraglio Point, and another at the 
 Battery of Tophaneh, poured their rival streams across the 
 Golden Horn, revealing the thousands of caiques jostling each 
 other from shore to shore, and the endless variety of gay cos- 
 tumes with which they were filled. The smoke of the cannon 
 banging in the air, increased the effect of this illumination, and 
 became a screen of auroral brightness, through which the 
 superb spectacle loomed with large and unreal features. It 
 was a picture of air a phantasmagoric spectacle, built of 
 luminous vapor and meteoric fires, and hanging in the dark 
 round of space. In spite of ourselves, we became eager and 
 excited, half fearing that the whole pageant would dissolve the 
 next moment, and leave no trace behind. 
 
 Meanwhile, the cannon thundered from a dozen batteries, and 
 the rockets burst into glittering rain over our heads. Grander 
 discharges I never heard ; the earth shook and trembled undei 
 Uie mighty bursts of suiml. and the reverberation which rat
 
 ILLUMINATION OF THE SHORES. 829 
 
 tied along the bill of Galata, broken by the scattered building* 
 into innumerable fragments of sound, resembled the crash of a 
 thousand falling houses. The distant echoes from Asia and the 
 islands in the sea filled up the pauses between the nearer peals, 
 and we seemed to be in the midst of some great naval engage- 
 ment. But now the caique of the Sultan is discerned, approach- 
 ing from the Bosphorus. A signal is given, and a sunrise of 
 intense rosy and golden radiance suddenly lights up the long 
 arsenal and stately mosque of Tophaneh, plays over the tall 
 buildings on the hill of Pera, and falls with a fainter lustre on 
 the Genoese watch-tower that overlooks Galata. It is impos- 
 sible to describe the effect of this magical illumination. The 
 mosque, with its taper minarets, its airy galleries, and its great 
 central dome, is built of compact, transparent flame, and in the 
 shifting of the red and yellow fires, seems to flicker and waver 
 in the air. It is as lofty, and gorgeous, and unsubstantial as 
 the cloudy palace in Cole's picture of " Youth." The long 
 white front of the arsenal is fused in crimson heat, and burns 
 against the dark as if it were one mass of living coal. And 
 over all hangs the luminous canopy of smoke, redoubling its 
 lustre on the waters of the Golden Horn, and mingling with 
 
 the phosphorescent gleams that play around the oars of the 
 
 
 caiques. 
 
 A long barge, propelled by sixteen oars, glides around the 
 dark corner of Tophaueh, and shoots into the clear, brilliant 
 space in front of the mosque It is not lighted, and passes 
 with great swiftness towards the brilliant landing-place. There 
 are several persons seated under a canopy in the stern, and we 
 are trying to decide which is the Sultan, when a second boat, 
 driven by twenty-four oarsmen, comes in sight. The men ris>
 
 330 THB LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 op at each stroke, and the long, sharp craft flies over the sur- 
 face of the water, rather than forces its way through it. A 
 gilded crown surmounts the long, curved prow, and a light 
 though superb canopy covers the stern Under this, we cstcb 
 a glimpse of the Sultan and Grand Vizier, as they appear for an 
 instant like black silhouettes against the burst of light on shore. 
 After the Sultan had entered the mosque, the fires dimin- 
 ished and the cannon ceased, though the illuminated masts, 
 minarets and gateways still threw a brilliant gleam over the 
 scene. After more than an hour spent in devotion, he again 
 entered his caique and sped away to greet his new wife, amid a 
 fresh discharge from the frigates and the batteries on both 
 shores, and a new dawn of auroral splendor. We made haste 
 to reach the landing-place, in order to avoid the crowd of 
 caiques ; but, although we were among the first, we came near 
 being precipitated into the water, in the struggle to get ashore. 
 The market-place at Tophaueh was so crowded that nothing 
 but main force brought us through, and some of our party had 
 *heii pockets picked. A number of Turkish soldiers and police- 
 tticu were mixed up in the melee, and they were not sparing of 
 blows when they came in contact with a Giaour. In making 
 my way through, I found that a collision with one of the sol- 
 diers was inevitable, but I managed to plump against him witb 
 such force as to take the breath out of his body, and was out 
 of his reach before he had recovered himself. I saw several 
 Turkish women striking right and left in their endeavors to 
 escape, and place their hands against the faces of those who 
 opposed them, pushing chem asHe. This crowd was contrived 
 by thieves, for the purpose of plunder, and, from what I have 
 gince learned, must have beei very successful
 
 THE DANCiNG DERVISHES SSI 
 
 I visited to-day the College of the Mevlevi Dervishes al 
 Pera, and witnessed their peculiar ceremonies. They assemble 
 in a large hall, where they take their seats in a serai-circle, 
 facing the shekh. After going through several times with the 
 usual Moslem prayer, they move in slow march around the 
 room, while a choir in the gallery chants Arabic phrases in a 
 manner very similar to the mass in Catholic churches. I could 
 distinguish the sentences " God is great," " Praise be to God," 
 and other similar ejaculations. The chant was accompanied 
 with a drum and flute, and had not lasted long before the Der- 
 vishes set themselves in a rotary motion, spinning slowly around 
 the shekh, who stood in the centre. They stretched both arms 
 out, dropped their heads on one side, and glided around with a 
 steady, regular motion, their long white gowns spread out and 
 floating on the air. Their steps were very similar to those of 
 the modern waltz, which, it is possible, may have been derived 
 from the dance of the Mevlevis. Baron Von Hammer finds 
 in this ceremony an imitation of the dance of the spheres, in 
 the ancient Samothracian Mysteries ; but I see no reason tc 
 go so far back for its origin. The dance lasted for about 
 twenty minutes, and the Dervishes appeared very much 
 exhausted at the close, as they are obliged to observe the fast 
 very strictly.
 
 832 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 THE SOLEMNITIES OF BAIRAM 
 
 n Appearance of the New Moon The Festival of Bairam The Interiur of tli 
 Seraglio The Pomp of the Sultan's Court Reschid Pasha The Sultan's DwatC 
 Arabian Stallions The Imperial Guard Appearance of the Sultan The Inner Court 
 Return of the Procession The Sultan on his Throne The Homage of the Pashas 
 An Oriental Picture Kissing the Scarf The Shekh el-Islam The Descendant of 
 the Caliphs Bairam Commences. 
 
 , July 19, 1852. 
 
 SATURDAY was the last day of the fast-month of Ramazan, and 
 yesterday the celebration of the solemn festival of Bairam 
 took place. The moon changed on Friday morning at 11 
 o'clock, but as the Turks have no faith in astronomy, and do 
 not believe the moon has actually changed until they see it, all 
 good Mussulmea were obliged to fast an additional day. Had 
 Saturday been cloudy, and the new moon invisible, I am no 
 sure but the fast would have been still further prolonged. A 
 good look-out was kept, however, and about four o'clock on 
 Saturday afternoon some sharp eyes saw the young crescent 
 above the sun. There is a hill near Gemlik. on the Gulf of 
 Moudania, about fifty miles from here, whence the Turks 
 believe the new moon can be first 3eeu. The families who live 
 on this hill are exempted from taxation, in consideration of 
 their keeping a watch for the moon, at the close of Ramazan
 
 THE FESTIVAL OF BAIRAM. 
 
 A. series of signals, from hill to hill, is in readiness, and the 
 news is transmitted to Constantinople in a very short time 
 Then, when the muezzin proclaims the asstr, or prayer two 
 hours before sunset, he proclaims also the close of Ramazan. 
 All the batteries fire a salute, and the big guns along the 
 water announce the joyful news to all parts of the city. The 
 forts on the Bosphorus take up the tale, and both shores, from 
 the Black Sea to the Propontis, shake with the burden of 
 their rejoicing At night the mosques are illuminated for the 
 last lime, for it is only during Ramazau that they are lighted, 
 or open for night service. 
 
 After Ramazau, comes the festival of Bairam, which lasts 
 three days, and is a season of unbounded rejoicing. The 
 bazaars are closed, no Turk does any work, but all, clothed in 
 their best dresses, or in an entire new suit if they can afford it, 
 pass the time in feasting, in paying visits, or in making excur- 
 sions to the shores of the Bosphorus, or other favorite spots 
 around Constantinople The festival is inaugurated by a 
 solemn state ceremony, at the Seraglio and the mosque of 
 Sultan Achmed, whither the Sultan goes in procession, accom- 
 panied by all the officers of the Government. This is the last 
 remaining pageant which has been spared to the Ottoman 
 monarchs by the rigorous reforming measures of Sultan Mah- 
 moud, and shorn as it is of much of its former splendor, it 
 probably surpasses in brilliant effect any spectacle which anj 
 other European Court can present. The ceremonies which take 
 place inside of the Seraglio were, until within three or four 
 years, prohibited to Frank eyes, and travellers were obliged to 
 content themselves with a view of the procession, as it passed 
 to the mosque. Through the kindness of Mr. Brown, of the
 
 334 THE LAND2 OF THE SARACEX. 
 
 American Embassy, I was enabled to witness the <ntire solen? 
 nity, in all its details. 
 
 As the procession leaves the Seraglio at sunrise, we rose witl 
 the first streak of dawn, descended to Tophaneh, and crossed 
 to Seraglio Poiut, where the cavass of the Embassy was ii: 
 waiting for us. He conducted us through the guards, into the 
 garden of the Seraglio, and up the hill to the Palace. The 
 Capudan Pasha, or Lord High Admiral, had just arrived in a 
 splendid caique, and pranced up the hill before us on a magni- 
 ficent stallion, whose trappings blazed with jewels and gold 
 lace. The rich uniforms of the different officers of the army 
 and marine glittered far and near under the dense shadows of 
 the cypress trees, and down the dark alleys where the morning 
 twilight had not penetrated. We were ushered into the great 
 outer court-yard of the Seraglio, leading to the Sublime Porte. 
 A double row of marines, in scarlet jackets and white 
 trowsers, extended from one gate to the other, and a very 
 excellent brass band played " Sumii la tromba " with much 
 spirit. The groups of Pashas and other officers of high rank 
 with their attendants, gave the scene a brilliant character of 
 festivity. The costumes, except those of the secretaries and 
 servants, were after the European model, but covered with a 
 lavish profusion of gold lace. The horses were all of the 
 choicest Eastern breeds, and the broad housings of their sad- 
 dles of blue, green, purple, and crimson cloth, were enriched 
 with gold lace, rubies, emeralds and turquoises. 
 
 The cavass took us into a chamber near the gate, and com 
 manding a view of the whole court. There we found Mr 
 Browu and his lady, with several officers from the U. S 
 Btcamer San Jacinto. At 'his moment the sun, appearing
 
 THE PROCESSION TO THE MOSQUE. 335 
 
 above the hill of Bulgurlu, behind Scutari, threw his earliest 
 rays upon the gilded pinnacles of the Seraglio. The commo- 
 tion in the long court-yard below increased. The marines were 
 formed into exact line, the horses of the officers clattered on 
 the rough pavement as thev dashed about to expedite the 
 arrangements, the crowd pressed closer to the line of the pro- 
 cession, and in five minutes the grand pageant was set in 
 motion. As the first Pasha made his appearance under the 
 dark archway of the interior gate, the band struck up the 
 MarseUlaist (which is a favorite air among the Turks), and the 
 soldiers presented arms. The court-yard was near two hun- 
 dred yards long, and the line of Pashas, each surrounded with 
 the officers of his staff, made a most dazzling show. The lowest 
 in rank came first. I cannot recollect the precise order, nor the 
 names of all of them, which, in fact, are of little consequence, 
 while power and place are such uncertain matters in Turkey 
 
 Each Pasha wore the red fez on his head, a frock-coat of 
 blue cloth, the breast of which was entirely covered with gold 
 lace, while a broad band of the same decorated the skirts, and 
 white pantaloons. One of the Ministers, Mehemet Ali Pasha, 
 the brother-in-law of the Sultan, was formerly a cooper's 
 apprentice, but taken, when a boy, by the late Sultan Mali- 
 moud, to be a playmate for his son, on account of his extraor- 
 dinary beauty. Reschid Pasha, the Grand Viziei , is a man of 
 about sixty years of age. He is frequently called Giaour, or 
 Infidel, by the Turks, on account of his liberal policy, which 
 has made him many enemies. The expression of his face 
 denotes intelligence, bat lacks the energy necessary to accom- 
 plish great reforms. His son, a boy of about seventeen, alreadj 
 possesses the rank of Pasha, and is affianced to the Sultan's
 
 886 THK LANDS OF THE SARACEN 
 
 daughter, a child of ten or twelve years old. He is a fat 
 oaudsome youth, with a sprightly face, and acted his part it 
 the ceremonies with a nonchalance which made him appeal 
 graceful beside his stiff, dignified elders 
 
 After the Pashas came the entire household of the Sultan, 
 including even his eunuchs, cooks, and constables. The Kislar 
 Aga, or Chief Eunuch, a tall African in resplendent costume, 
 is one of the most important personages connected with the 
 Court. The Sultan's favorite dwarf, a little man about forty 
 years old and three feet high, bestrode his horse with as conse 
 quential an air as any of them. A few years ago, tnis man 
 took a notion to marry, and applied to the Sultan for a wife. 
 The latter gave him permission to go into his harem and take 
 the one whom he could kiss. The dwarf, like all short men, 
 was ambitious to have a long wife. While the Sultau's five hun- 
 dred women, who knew the terms according to which the dwarf 
 was permitted to choose, were laughing at the amorous uiiiu- 
 nikin, he went up to one of the tallest and handsomest of them, 
 and struck her a sudden blow on the stomach. She collapsed 
 with the pain, and before she could recover he caught her by the 
 neck and gave her the dreaded kiss. The Sultan kept his word, 
 and the tall beauty is now the mother of the dwarfs children. 
 
 The procession grows more brilliant as it advances, and the 
 profound inclination nc.ade by the soldiers at the further end of 
 the court, announces the approach of the Sultan himself. First 
 come three led horses, of the noblest Arabian blood gloricui 
 features, worthy to represent 
 
 " The horse that guide the golden eye of heaven. 
 And snort the morning from their nostrils, 
 Making their fiery gait above the glades."
 
 THE SflTAN. 887 
 
 Their eyes were more keen and lustrous than the diamonds 
 which studded their head-stalls, and the wealth of emeralds, 
 rnbies, and sapphires that gleamed on their trappings would 
 hare bought the possessions of a German Prince. After them 
 came the Sultan's body-guard, a company of tall, strong men, 
 in crimson tunics and white trousers, with lofty plumes of pea- 
 cock feathers in their hat? Some of them carried crests of 
 green feathers, fastened upon long staves. These superb horses 
 and showy guards are the only relics of that barbaric pomp 
 which characterized all State processions during the time of the 
 Janissaries. In the centre of a hollow square of plume-bearing 
 guards rode Abdul-Medjid himself, on a snow-white steed 
 Every one bowed profoundly as he passed along, but he neither 
 looked to the right or left, nor made the slightest acknowledg- 
 ment of the salutations. Turkish etiquette exacts the most rigid 
 indifference on the part of the Sovereign, who, on all public 
 occasions, never makes a greeting. Formerly, before the change 
 of costume, the Sultan's turbans were carried before him in the 
 processions, and the servants who bore them inclined them to one 
 side and the other, in answer to the salutations of the crowd. 
 
 Sultan Abdul-Medjid is a man of about thirty, though he 
 looks older. He has a mild, amiable, weak face, dark eyes, a 
 prominent nose, and short, dark brown mustaches and beard. 
 His face is thin, and wrinkles are already making their appear- 
 ance about the corners of his mouth and eyes. Bat for a cer- 
 tain vacancy of expression, he would be called a handsome 
 man. He sits on his horse with much ease and grace, though 
 ".here is a slight stoop in his shoulders. His legs are crooked, 
 owing to which cause he appears awkward when on his feet, 
 though he wears a long cloak to conceal the deformity. Sea 
 
 15
 
 33$ THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN*. 
 
 suul indulgence has weakened a constitution not naturally 
 strung, and increased that mildness \viiidi has n-\v become a 
 defect in his character. He is not stern enough TO in- just, and 
 his subjects are less fortunate under his easy rule than under 
 the rod of his savage father, Mahmoud. lie \v.,s dressed in a 
 style of the utmost richness and elegance. He wore a red 
 Turkish fez. with an immense rosette of brilliants, and a long, 
 floating plume of bird-of-paradise feathers. The diamond in 
 the centre of the rosette is of unusual size; it was picked up 
 some years ago in the Hippodrome, and probably belonged to 
 the treasury of the Greek Emperors. The breast and collar 
 of his coat were oiie mass of diamonds, aud sparkled in thf 
 early sun with a thousand rainbow gleams. His mantle oi 
 dark-blue cloth hung to his knees, concealing the deformity of 
 his legs. He wore white pantaloons, wbite kid gloves, and 
 patent leather boots, thrust into his golden stirrups. 
 
 A few officers of the Imperial househol 1 followed behind the 
 Sultan, and the procession then terminated. Including the 
 soldiers, it contained from two to three thousand persons. The 
 marines lined the way to the mosque of Sultan Achmed, 
 and a great crowd of spectators filled up the streets and the 
 square of the Hippodrome. Coffee was served to us, after 
 which we were all conducted into the inner court of the Serag- 
 lio, to await the return of the cortege. This court is not more 
 that half the size of the outer one but is shaded with large 
 sycamores, embellished with fountains, and surrounded with 
 light and elegant galleries, in pure Saracenic style. The pio 
 ture which it presented was therefore far richer and more 
 characteristic of the Orient than the outer court, where the 
 architecture is almost wholly after Italian models. The portals
 
 THE SULTAN ON HIS THBONB. 339 
 
 at either end rested on slender pillars, over which projected 
 broad eaves, decorated with elaborate carved and gilded work 
 and above all rose a dome, surmounted by the Crescent. On 
 the right, the tall chimneys of the Imperial kitchens towered 
 above the walls. The sycamores threw their broad, cooJ 
 shadows over the court, and groups of servants, in gala dresses, 
 loitered about the corridors. 
 
 After waiting nearly half an hour, the sound of music and the 
 appearance of the Sultan's body-guard proclaimed the return 
 of the procession. It came in reversed order, headed by the 
 Sultan, after whom followed the Grand Vizier and other Minis- 
 ters of the Imperial Council, and the Pashas, each surrounded 
 by his staff of officers. The Sultun dismounted at the entrance 
 to the Seraglio, and disappeared through the door. He was 
 ab.svnt for more than half an hour, during which time he 
 received the congratulations of his family, his wives, and the 
 principal personages of his household, all of whom came to kiss 
 his feet. Meanwhile, the Pashas ranged themselves in a semi- 
 circle around the arched and gilded portico. The servants of 
 the Seraglio brought out a large Persian carpet, which they 
 spread on the marble pavement. The throne, a large square 
 seat, richly carved and covered with gilding, was placed in the 
 centre, and a dazzling piece of cloth-of-gold thrown over the 
 back of it. When the Sultan re-appeared, he took his seat 
 thereon, placing his feet on a small footstool. The ceremony 
 of kissing his feet now commenced. The first who had this 
 honor was the Chief of the Emirs, an old man in a green robe, 
 embroidered with pearls. He advanced to the throne, knelt, 
 kissed the Sultan's patent-leather boot, and retired backward 
 from the presence
 
 340 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 The Ministers and Pashas followed in single file, and, aftei 
 they had made the salutation, took their stati ns on the righ 
 band of the throne. Most of them were fat, and their glitter- 
 ing frock-coats were buttoned so tightly that they seemed ready 
 to burst. It required a great effort for them to rise from their 
 knees. During all this time, the band was playing operatic 
 airs, and as each Pasha knelt, a marshal, or master of ceremo- 
 nies, with a silver wand, gave the signal to the Imperial Guard, 
 who shouted at the top of their voices : " Prosperity to our 
 Sovereign 1 May he live a thousand years 1" This part of the 
 ceremony was really grand and imposing. All the adjuncts 
 were in keeping : the portico, wrought in rich arabesque 
 designs ; the swelling domes and sunlit crescents above ; the 
 sycamores and cypresses shading the court ; the red tunics and 
 peacock plumes of the guard ; the monarch himself, radiant 
 with jewels, as he sat in his chair of gold all these features 
 combined to form a stately picture of the lost Orient, and for 
 the time Abdul-Medjid seemed the true representative of 
 Caliph Haroun Al-Raschid. 
 
 After the Pashas had finished, the inferior officers of the 
 Army, Navy, and Civil Service followed, to the number of at 
 least a thousand. They were not considered worthy to touch 
 the Sultan's person, but kissed his golden scarf, which was held 
 out to them by a Pasha, who stood on the left of the throne. 
 Tht Grand Vizier had his place on the right, and the Chief of 
 the Eunuchs stood behind him. The kissing of the scarf occu- 
 pied an hour. The Sultan sat quietly during al 1 this time, his 
 face expressing a total indifference to all that was going on. 
 The most skilful physiognomist could cot have found in it the 
 shadow of an expression. If this wag the etiquette prescribed
 
 TEE SHEKH EL-ISLAM. 341 
 
 for him, he certainly acted it with marvellous siill and 
 snccess. 
 
 The long line of officers at length came to an end, and 1 
 fancied that the solemnities were now over ; but after a pause 
 appeared the Shekh d-Islam, or High Priest of the Mahometan 
 religion. His authority in religious matters transcends that of 
 the Sultan, and is final and irrevocable. He was a very 
 venerable man, of perhaps seventy-five years of age, and his 
 tottering steps were supported by two mollahs. He was 
 dressed in a long green robe, embroidered with gold and pearls, 
 over which his white beard flowed below his waist. In hi? 
 turban of white cambric was twisted a scarf of cloth-of-gold. 
 He kissed the border of the Sultan's mantle, which salutation 
 was also made by a long line of the chief priests of the mosquea 
 of Constantinople, who followed him. These priests were 
 dressed in long robes of white, green, blue, and violet, many 
 of them with collars of pearls and golden scarfs wound about 
 their turbans, the rich fringes falling on their shoulders. They 
 were grave, stately men, with long gray beards, and the wis- 
 dom of age and study in their deep-set eyes. 
 
 Among the last who came was the most important personage 
 of all. This was the Governor of Mecca (as I believe he is 
 called), the nearest descendant of the Prophet, and the succes- 
 sor to the Caliphate, in case the family of Othman becomes 
 extinct. Sultan Mahmoud, on his accession to the throne, was 
 the last descendant of Orchan, the founder of the Ottoman 
 Dynasty, the throne being inherited only by the male heirs. 
 He left two sons, who are both living, Abdul-Medjid having 
 departed from the practice of his predecessors, each of whom 
 nis brothers, in order to make his own sovereignty secure
 
 842 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 He has one son, Muzad, who is about ten years old, so thai 
 there are now three males of the family of Orchan. In case 
 of their death, the Governor of Mecca would become Caliph, 
 and the sovereignty would be established in his family. He U 
 a swarthy Arab, of about, fifty, with a bold, fierce face. He 
 wore a superb dress of green, the sacred color, and was fol 
 lowed by his two sons, young men of twenty and twenty-two 
 As he advanced to the throne, and was about to kneel and kiss 
 the Sultan's robe, the latter prevented him, and asked politely 
 after his health the highest mark of respect in his power to 
 show. The old Arab's face gleamed with such a sudden gush 
 of pride and satisfaction, that no flash of lightning could have 
 illumined it more vividly. 
 
 The sacred writers, or transcribers of the Koran, closed the 
 procession, after which the Sultan rose and entered the Serag- 
 lio. The crowd slowly dispersed, and in a few minutes the 
 grand reports of the cannon on Seraglio Point announced the 
 departure of the Sultan for his palace on the Bosphorus. The 
 festival of Bairam was now fairly inaugurated, and all Stam- 
 boul was given up to festivity. There was no Turk so poor 
 that he did not in some sort share in the rejoicing. Our 
 Fourth could scarcely show more flags, let off more big guns 
 or send forth greater crow Is of excursionists than this Moslem 
 holiday.
 
 SOJOURN AT CONSTANTINOPLE 343 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 THE MOSQUES OF CONSTANTINOP1. K. 
 
 itoourr. at Constantinople Semi-European Character of the City The Mo'qiu Pro 
 curing a Firman The Seraglio The Library The Ancient Throne-Room Admit 
 tance to St. Sophia Magnificence of the Interior The Marvellous Dome Th 
 Mosque of Sultan Achmed The Sulemanye Great Conflagrations Political Mean- 
 ing of the Fires Turkish Progress Decay of the Ottoman Power. 
 
 "Is that indeed Sophia's far-famed dome, 
 Where first the Faith was led in triumph home, 
 Like some high bride, with banner and bright sign, 
 And melody, and flowers f " AUBREY DB VEB 
 
 CONSTAHTTNOPLK, 7Verf<7y, Avf/uft 8, 1852. 
 
 PHE length of ray stay iu Constantinople has enabled me tc 
 visit many interesting spots in its vicinity, as well as to fami- 
 liarize myself with the peculiar features of the great capital. 
 I have seen the beautiful Bosphorus from steamers and cai- 
 ques ; ridden up the valley of Buyukdere, and through the 
 chestnut woods of Belgrade ; bathed in the Black Sea, under 
 the lee of the Symplegades, where the marble altar to Apollo 
 still invites an oblation from passing mariners ; walked ovei 
 the flowery meadows beside the " Heavenly Waters of Asia ;' 
 galloped around the ivy-grown walls where Dandolo and Maho- 
 met II. conquered, and the last of the Palaeologi fell ; aud 
 dreamed away many an afternoon-hour under the funereal 
 cypresses of Pera, and beside the Delphian tripod in the Hip
 
 344 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN 
 
 podrome The historic interest of these spots is familiar t* 
 all, uor, with oiie exception, have their natural beauties beet 
 exaggerated by travellers. This exception is the village of 
 Belgrade, over which Mary Montague went into raptures, and 
 set the fashion for tourists ever since. I must confess to having 
 been wofully disappointed. The village is a miserable cluster 
 of rickety houses, on an open piece of barren laud, surrounded 
 by the forests, or rather thickets, which keep alive the springs 
 that supply Constantinople with water. We reached there 
 with appetites sharpened by our morning's ride, expecting to 
 find at least a vender of kibabs (bits of fried meat) in so 
 renowned a place ; but the only things to be had were raw salt 
 mackerel, and bread which belonged to the primitive geological 
 formation. 
 
 The general features of Constantinople and the Bosphorus 
 are so well known, that I am spared the dangerous task of 
 painting scenes which have been colored by abler pencils. Von 
 Hammer, Lamartine, Willis, Miss Pardoe, Albert Smith, and 
 chou, most inimitable Thackeray 1 have made Pera and Scutari, 
 the Bazaars and Baths, the Seraglio and the Golden Horn, aa 
 familiar to our ears as Cornhill and Wall street. Besides, 
 Constantinople is not the true Orient, which is to be found 
 rather in Cairo, in Aleppo, and brightest and most vital, in 
 Damascus. Here, we tread European soil ; the Franks are 
 fust crowding out the followers of the Prophet, and Stamboul 
 itself, were its mosques and Seraglio removed, would differ little 
 in outward appearance from a third-rate Italian town. The 
 Sultan lives in a palace with a Grecian portico ; the pointed 
 Saracenic arch, the arabesque sculptures, the latticed balconies, 
 give place to clumsy imitations of Palladio, and every fire thai
 
 THE MOSQUE. 845 
 
 Bleeps away a recollection of the palmy times of Ottoman 
 rale, sweeps it away forever. 
 
 But the Mosque that blossom of Oriental architecture, 
 with its crowning domes, like the inverted bells of the lotus, 
 and its reed-like minarets, its fountains and marble courts can 
 only perish with the faith it typifies. I, for one, rejoice thai, 
 so long as the religion of Islam exists (and yet, may its time 
 be short I), no Christian model can shape its houses of worship 
 The minaret must still lift its airy tower for the muezzin ; the 
 dome must rise like a gilded heaven above the prayers of the 
 Faithful, with its starry lamps and emblazoned phrases ; the 
 fountain must continue to pour its waters of purification. A 
 reformation of the Moslem faith is impossible. When it begins 
 to give way, the whole fabric must fall. Its ceremonies, as 
 well as its creed, rest entirely on the recognition of Mahomet 
 as the Prophet of God. However the Turks may change in 
 other respects, in all that concerns their religion they must 
 continue the same. 
 
 Until within a few years, a visit to the mosques, especially 
 the more sacred ones of St. Sophia and Sultan Achmed, was 
 attended with much difficulty. Miss Pardoe, according to her 
 own account, risked her life in order to see the interior of St. 
 Sophia, which she effected in the disguise of a Turkish Effendi. 
 1 accomplished the same thing, a few days since, but without 
 recourse to any such romantic expedient. Mr. Brown, the 
 interpreter of the Legation, procured a firman from the Grand 
 Vizier, on behalf of the officers of the San Jacinto, and kindly 
 invited me, with several other American and English travellers, 
 to join the party. During the mouth of Rarnazan, no firman.' 
 are given, and as at this time there are few travellers in Con- 
 id
 
 346 TUE LAXDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 slantinople, we should otherwise have been subjected to a hear) 
 expense. The cost of a firman, including backsheesh to ttu 
 priests and doorkeepers, is 700 piastres (about $33). 
 
 We crossed the Golden Horn in caiques, and first visited the 
 gardens and palaces on Seraglio Point. The Sultan at presei.t 
 resides in his summer palace of Beshiktashe, on the Bosphorus, 
 and only occupies the Serai Bornou, as it is called, during the 
 winter months. The Seraglio covers the extremity of the 
 promontory on which Constantinople is built, and is nearly 
 three miles in circuit. The scattered buildings erected by dif- 
 ferent Sultans form in themselves a small city, whose domes 
 and pointed turrets rise from amid groves of cypress and pine 
 The sea-wall is lined with kiosks, from whose cushioned win- 
 dows there are the loveliest views of the European and Asian 
 shores. The newer portion of the palace, where the Sultan 
 now receives the ambassadors of foreign nations, shows the 
 influence of European taste in its plan and decorations. It is 
 by no means remarkable for splendor, and suffers by contrast 
 with many of the private houses in Damascus and Aleppo. 
 The building is of wood, the walls ornamented with detestable 
 frescoes by modern Greek artists, and except a small but 
 splendid collection of arms, and some wonderful specimens of 
 Arabic chirography, there is nothing to interest the visitor. 
 
 In ascending to the ancient Seraglio, which was founded by 
 Mahomet II., on the site of the palace of the Palaologi, we 
 passed the Column of Theodosius, a plain Corinthian shaft, 
 about fifty feet high. The Seraglio is now occupied entirely 
 oy the servants and guards, and the greater part of it shows a 
 aeglect amounting almost to dilapidation. The Saracenic cor 
 ridors scrrounding its courts are supported by pillars of ma>
 
 THE SERAGLIO. 341 
 
 Die, granite, and porphyry, the spoils of the Christian capital 
 We were allowed to walk about at leisure, and inspect the dif 
 ferent compartments, except the library, which unfortunately 
 was locked. This library was for a long time supposed tc 
 contain many lost treasures of ancient literature among other 
 things, the missing booKs of Livy but the recent researches of 
 Logothetos, the Prince of Samos, prove that there is little of 
 value among its manuscripts. Before the door hangs a wooden 
 globe, which is supposed to be efficacious in neutralizing the 
 influence of the Evil Eye. There are many ancient altars and 
 fragments of pillars scattered about the courts, and the Turks 
 have even commenced making a collection of antiquities, which, 
 with the exception of two immense sarcophagi of red porphyry, 
 contains nothing of value. They show, however, one of the 
 brazen heads of the Delphian tripod in the Hippodrome, which, 
 they say, Mahomet the Conqueror struck off with a single blow 
 ttf his sword, on entering Constantinople. 
 
 The most interesting portion of the Seraglio is the ancient 
 throne-room, now no longer used, but still guarded by a com- 
 pany of white eunuchs. The throne is an immense, heavy 
 bedstead, the posts of which are thickly incrusted with rubies, 
 turquoises, emeralds, and sapphires. There is a funnel-shaped 
 chimney-piece in the room, a master-work of Benevenuto Cel- 
 lini. There, half a century ago, the foreign ambassadors 
 were presented, after having been bathed, fed, and clothed with 
 a rich mantle in the outer apartments. They were ushered 
 into the imperial presence, supported by a Turkish official on 
 either side, in order that they might show no signs of breaking 
 down under the load of awe and revereuee they were supposed 
 to feel. In the outer Court, adjoining the Sublime Pcrte, is
 
 348 THE LAXDS OF THE SARACEN 
 
 the Chapel of the Empress Jreiie, now converted into at 
 armory, which, for its size, is the most tasteful and picturesque 
 collection of weapons I have ever seen. It is especially rich in 
 Saracenic armor, and contains many superb casques of inlaid 
 gold. In a large glass case in the chancel, one sees the keys 
 of some thirty or forty cities, with the date of their capture. 
 It is not likely that another will ever be added to the list 
 
 We now passed out through the Sublime Porte, and direct- 
 ed our steps to the famous Aya Sophia the temple dedicated 
 by Justinian to the Divine Wisdom. The repairs made to the 
 outer walls by the Turks, and the addition of the four mina- 
 rets, have entirely changed the character of the building, with- 
 out injuring its effect. As a Christian Church, it must have 
 been less imposing than in its present form. A priest met us at 
 the entrance, and after reading the firman with a very discon- 
 tented face, informed us that we could not enter until the mid- 
 day prayers were concluded. After taking off our shoes, how- 
 ever, we were allowed to ascend to the galleries, whence we 
 looked down on the bowing worshippers. Here the majesty 
 of the renowned edifice, despoiled as it now is, bursts at once 
 upon the eye. The wonderful flat dome, glittering with its 
 golden mosaics, and the sacred phrase from the Koran : God 
 M the Light of the Heavens and the. Earth" swims in the air, 
 one hundred and eighty feet above the marble pavement. On 
 the eastern and western sides, it rests on two half domes 
 which again rise from or rest upon a group of three small half- 
 domes, so that the entire roof of the mosque, unsupported by a 
 pillar, seems to have been dropped from above on the walls, 
 rather than to have been built up from them. Around the 
 adifice run an upper and a lower gallery, which alone preserve
 
 THE MOSQUE OF ST. SOPHIA. 349 
 
 the peculiarities of the Byzantine style These galleries arc 
 supported by the most precious columns which ancient art 
 could afford : among them eight shafts of green marble, froib 
 the Temple of Diana, at Ephesus ; eight of porphyry, from the 
 Temple of the Sun, at Baalbek ; besides Egyptian granite from 
 the shrines of Isis and Osiris, and Pentelican marble from the 
 sanctuary of Pallas Athena. Almost the whole of the inte 
 rior has been covered with gilding, but time has softened its 
 brilliancy, and the rich, subdued gleam of the walls is in per- 
 fect harmony with the varied coloring of the ancient marbles. 
 
 Under the dome, four Christian seraphim, executed in 
 mosaic, have been allowed to remain, but the names of the four 
 archangels of the Moslem faith are inscribed underneath. 
 The bronze doors are still the same, the Turks having taken 
 great pains to obliterate the crosses with which they were 
 adorned. Around the centre of the dome, as on that of Sul- 
 tan Achmed, may be read, in golden letters, and in all the 
 intricacy of Arabic penmanship, the beautiful "erse : " God 
 is the Light of the Heavens and the Earth. His wisdom is 
 a light on the wall, in which burns a lamp covered with glass. 
 The glass shines like a star, the lamp is lit with the oil of a 
 blessed tree. No Eastern, no Western oil, it shines for who- 
 ever wills." After the prayers were over, and we had descend- 
 ed to the floor of the mosque, I spent the rest of my time 
 under the dome, fascinated by its marvellous lightness and 
 beauty. The worshippers present looked at us with curiosity, 
 but without ill-will ; and before we left, one of the priests came 
 slyly with some fragments of the ancient gilded mosaic, which 
 he was heathen enough to sell, and we to buy. 
 
 From St. Sophia we went to Sultau Achmed, which faces
 
 >50 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEi: 
 
 I lie Hippodrome, and is one of the stateliest p les of Constant! 
 nopie It is avowedly an imitation of St. Sophia, and thf 
 lurks consider it a more wonderful work, because the dome is 
 seven feet higher. It has six minarets, exceeding in this 
 respect all the mosques of Asia. The dome rests on fouf 
 immense pillars, the bulk of whicL quite oppresses the light 
 galleries running around the walls. This, and the uniform 
 white color of the interior, impairs the effect which its bold 
 style and imposing dimensions would otherwise produce. The 
 outside view, with the group of domes swelling grandly above 
 the rows of broad-armed sycamores, is much more satisfactory. 
 In the tomb of Sultan Achmed, in one corner of the court, we 
 Baw his coffin, turban, sword, and jewelled harness. I had 
 just been reading old Sandys' account of his visit to Constan- 
 tinople, in 1610, during this Sultan's reign, and could only 
 think of him as Sandys represents him, in the title-page to his 
 book, as a fat man, with bloated cheeks, iu a long gown and big 
 turban, and the words underneath : " Achmed, sive Tyrannus." 
 The other noted mosques of Constantinople are tb? Yet: 
 Djami, or Mosque of the Sultana Valide, on the shore of the 
 Golden Horn, at the end of the bridge to G-alata ; that of 
 Sultan Bajazet ; of Mahomet II., the Conqueror, and of his 
 son, Suleyman the Magniflceut, whose superb mosque well 
 deserves this title. I regret exceedingly that our time did not 
 allow us to view the interior, for outwardly it not only sur- 
 passes St Sophia, and all other mosques in the city, but is 
 undoubtedly one of the purest specimens of Oriental architecture 
 axtaut. It stands on a broad terrace, ou one of the seven hills 
 of Stainboul. and its exquisitely proportioned domes and mina- 
 rets shine as if crystalized ir the blue of the air. It is a type
 
 ORIENTAL ART. 351 
 
 of Oriental, as the Parthenon is of Grecian, ai.d the Cologne 
 Cathedral of Gothic art. As I saw it the other nigLt, lit bj 
 the flames of a conflagration, standing out red and clear against 
 the darkness, I felt inclined to place it on a level with either 
 of those renowned structures. It is a product of the rich 
 fancy of the East, splendidly ornate, and not without a high 
 degree of symmetry yet here the symmetry is that of orna- 
 ment alone, and not the pure, absolute proportion of forms 
 which we find in Grecian Art. It requires a certain degree of 
 enthusiasm nay, a slight inebriation of the imaginative facul- 
 ties in order to feel the sentiment of this Oriental Architec- 
 ture. If I rightly express all that it says to me, I touch the 
 verge of rapsody. The East, in almost all its aspects, is so 
 essentially poetic, that a true picture of it must be poetic in 
 spirit, if not in form. 
 
 Constantinople has been terribly ravaged by fires, no less 
 than fifteen having occurred during the past two weeks 
 Almost every night the sky has been reddened by burning 
 houses, and the minarets of the seven hills lighted with an 
 illumination brighter than that of the Bairam. All the space 
 from the Hippodrome to the Sea of Marmora has been swept 
 away ; the lard, honey, and oil magazines on the Golden Horn, 
 with the bazaars adjoining ; several large blocks on the hill of 
 Galata, with the College of the Dancing Dervishes ; a part of 
 Scutari, and the College of the Howling Dervishes, all have 
 disappeared ; and to-day, the ruins of 3, TOO houses, which were 
 destroyed last night, stand smoking in the Greek quarter 
 behind the aqueduct of Valens. The entire amount of build- 
 ings consumed in these two weeks is estimated at between Jim 
 ma nx thousand ! The fire or the hill of Galata threatened to
 
 352 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN 
 
 destroy a great part of the suburb ot Pera. It came, sweep 
 ing over the brow of the hill, towards my hotel, turning thi 
 tall cypresses iu the burial ground into shafts of angry flame, 
 and eating away the crackling dwellings of hordes of hapless 
 1 urks. I was in bed, from a sudden attack of fever, but seoing 
 the other guests packing up their effects and preparing ti 
 leave, I was obliged to do the same ; and this, in my weak 
 state, brought on such a perspiration that the ailment left me 
 The officers of the United States steamer San Jacinto, and 
 the French frigate Charlemagne, came to the rescue with their 
 men and fire-engines, and the flames were finally quelled. The 
 proceedings of the Americans, who cut holes in the roofs and 
 played through them upon the fires within, were watched by 
 the Turks with stupid amazement. " Mashallah !" said a fat 
 Bimbashi, as he stood sweltering in the heat ; " The Franks 
 are a wonderful people." 
 
 To those initiated into the mysteries of Turkish politics, 
 these fires are more than accidental ; they have a most weighty 
 significance. They indicate either a general discontent with 
 the existing state of affairs, or else a powerful plot against the 
 Sultan and his Ministry. Setting fire to houses is, in fact, the 
 Turkish method of holding an " indignation meeting," and from 
 the rate with which they are increasing, the political crisis 
 must be near at hand. The Sultan, with his usual kindness of 
 heart, has sent large quantities of tents and other supplies to 
 the guiltless sufferers ; but no amount of kindness can soften 
 the rancor of these Turkish intrigues. Reschid Pasha, the 
 present Grand Vizier, and the leader of the party of Progress, 
 is the person against whom this storm of opposition is now 
 gathering.
 
 DECAY OF THE OTTOMAN POWER. 353 
 
 In spite of all efforts, the Ottoman Power is rapidly waiting 
 away. The life of the Orient is nerveless and effete ; the 
 native strength of the nice has died out, and all attempts tc 
 resuscitate it by the adoption of European institutions produce 
 mere galvanic spasms, which leave it more exhausted than 
 before. The rosy-colored accounts we have had of Turkish 
 Progress are for the most part mere delusions. The Sultan is 
 a well-meaning but weak man, and tyrannical through his very 
 weakness. Had he strength enough to break through the 
 meshes of falsehood and venality which are woven so close 
 about him, he might accomplish some solid good. But Turkish 
 rule, from his ministers down to the lowest cadi, is a monstrous 
 system of deceit and corruption. These people have not the 
 most remote conception of the true aims of government ; they 
 only seek to enrich themselves and their parasites, at the 
 expense of the people and the national treasury. When we 
 add to this the conscript system, which is draining the pro- 
 vinces of their best Moslem subjects, to the advantage of the 
 Christians and Jews, and .the blindness of the Revenue Laws, 
 which impose on domestic manufactures double the duty levied 
 on foreign products, it will easily be foreseen that the next 
 half-century, or less, will completely drain the Turkish Empire 
 of its last lingering energies. 
 
 Already, in effect, Turkey exists only through the jealousy 
 of the European nations. The treaty of Unkiar-iskelessi, in 
 1833, threw her into the hands of Russia, although the influ 
 ence of England has of late years reigned almost exclusively 
 in her councils. These are the two powers who are lowering 
 at each other with sleepless eyes, in the Dardanelles and the 
 Rosphorus. The people, and most probably the government
 
 354 
 
 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEX. 
 
 is strongly preposessed in favor of the English ; bat tne Ras 
 sian Bear has a heavy paw, and when he puts it irto the scale, 
 all other weights kick the beam. It will be a le ng and warj 
 struggle, and no man can prophecy the result. Tl e Turks are 
 a people easy to govern, were even the imperfect laws, now in 
 existence, fairly administered. They would thrive t\nd improve 
 ander a bettor state of things ; tut I cannot avoid the convic- 
 tion -^hat the regeneration of the East will never be effected al 
 their
 
 EVBARCATION 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 FABEWELL TO THE ORIENT MALTA. 
 
 fctiar : in Farewell to the Orient Leaving Constantinople A Wreck The Da* 
 dandles Homeric Scenery Smyrna Revisited The Grecian Isles Voyage to Malta 
 Detention La Valetta The Maltese The Climate A Boat for Sicily. 
 
 " Farewell, ye mountains, 
 
 By glory crowned 
 Ye sacred fountain!) 
 
 Of Gods renowned ; 
 Ye woods and highlands, 
 
 Where heroes dwell; 
 Ye seas and islands, 
 
 Farewell ! Farewell !" FRITHIOF'S SAGA. 
 
 Is THK DABDANELI ES, Saturday, Aiiffust 7, 1809. 
 
 AT last, behold me fairly embarked for Christian Europe, tc 
 which I bade adieu in October last, eager for the unknown 
 wonders of the Orient. Since then, nearly ten months have 
 passed away, and those wonders are now familiar as every-day 
 experiences. I set out, determined to be satisfied with no 
 slight taste of Eastern life, but to drain to the bottom its 
 beaker of mingled sunshine and sleep. All this has been 
 accomplished ; and if I have not wandered so far, nor enriched 
 myself with such varied knowledge of the relics of ancient 
 history, as I might have purposed or wished, I have at least 
 learned to know the Turk and the Arab, been soothed by the 
 patience inspired by their fatalism, and warmed by the gorge- 
 ous gleams of fancy that animate their poetry and religion
 
 358 THE LANDS OP THE SARACEN 
 
 These ten months of my life form an episode which seems to 
 belong to a separate existence. Just refined enough to be 
 poetic, and just barbaric enough to be freed from all conven 
 tioLal fetters, it is as grateful to brain and soul, as an Eastern 
 bath to the body. While I look forward, not without pleasure, 
 to the luxuries and conveniences of Europe, I relinquish with a 
 yigh the refreshing indolence of Asia. 
 
 We have passed between the Castles of the two Continents, 
 guarding the mouth of the Dardanelles, and are now entering 
 the Grecian Sea. To-morrow, we shall touch, for a few 
 hours, at Smyrna, and then turn westward, on the track of 
 Ulysses and St. Paul. Farewell, then, perhaps forever, to the 
 bright Orient ! Farewell to the gay gardens, the spicy bazaars, 
 to the plash of fountains and the gleam of golden-tipped mina- 
 rets ! Farewell to the perfect morns, the balmy twilights, the 
 still heat of the blue noons, the splendor of moon and stars ! 
 Farewell to the glare of the white crags, the tawny wastes of 
 dead sand, the valleys of oleander, the hills of myrtle and 
 spices ! Farewell to the bath, agent of purity and peace, and 
 parent of delicious dreams to the shebook, whose fragrant 
 fumes are breathed from the lips of patience and contentment 
 to the narghileh, crowned with that blessed plant which 
 grows in the gardens of Shiraz, while a fountain more delight- 
 ful than those of Samarcand bubbles in its crystal bosom ! 
 Farewell to the red cap and slippers, to the big turban, the 
 flowing trousers, and the gaudy shawl to squatting on broad 
 divans, to sipping black coffee in acorn cups, to grave faces and 
 talaam aleiknoms, and touching of the lips and forehead I Fare- 
 well to the evening meal in the tent door, to the couch on the 
 friendly earth, to the yells of the muleteers, to the deliberate
 
 THE SEA OF MARMORA. 851 
 
 marches of the ploddiug horse, and the endless rocking of the 
 dromedary that kuoweth his master ! Farewell, finally, tc 
 annoyance without auger delay without vexation, indolence 
 without ennui, endurance without fatigue, appetite without 
 intemperance, enjoyment without pall ! 
 
 LA VALRTA, MALTA, Saturday, August 14, 1852. 
 
 My last view of Stamboul was that of the mosques of- St 
 Sophia and Sultan Achnied, shining faintly in the moonlight, 
 as we steamed down the Sea of Marmora. The Caire left at 
 nine o'clock, freighted with the news of Reschid Pasha's 
 deposition, and there were no signs of conflagration in all the 
 long mi Irs of the city that lay behind us. So we speculated 
 uo more on the exciting topics of the day, but went below and 
 took a vapor bath in our berths ; for I need not assure you 
 that the nights on the Mediterranean at this season are any- 
 thing but chilly. And here I must note the fact, that the 
 French steamers, while dearer than the Austrian, are more 
 cramped in their accommodations, and filled with a set of most 
 uncivil servants. The table is good, and this is the only thing 
 to be commended. In all other respects, I prefer the Lloyd 
 vessels. 
 
 Early next morning, we passed the promontory of Cyzicus, 
 and the Island of Marmora, the marble quarries of which give 
 Dame to the sea. As we were approaching the entrance to the 
 Dardanelles, we noticed an Austrian brig drifting in the cur- 
 rent, the whiff of her flag indicating distress. Her rudder was 
 entirely gone, and she was floating helplessly towards the Thra- 
 eian coast. A boat was immediately lowered and a hawsei 
 sarried to her bows, by which we towed he) a short distance ;
 
 858 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 but our steam engine did not like this drudgery, and snapped 
 the rope repeatedly, so that at last we were obliged to lea?e 
 her to her fate. The lift we gave, however, had its effect, and 
 by dexterous naanoeuvering with the sails, the captain brought 
 her safely into the harbor of Gallipoli, where she dropped 
 anchor beside us, 
 
 Beyond Gallipoli, the Dardanelles contract, and the opposing 
 continents rise into lofty and barren hills. In point of natural 
 beanty, this strait is greatly inferior to the Bosphorus. It 
 lacks the streams and wooded valleys which open upon the 
 latter. The country is but partially cultivated, except around 
 the town of Dardanelles, near the mouth of the strait. The 
 si'',e of the bridge of Xerxes is easily recognized, the conforma- 
 t)3n of the different shores seconding the decision of anti- 
 quarians. Here, too, are Sestos and Abydos, of passionate 
 and poetic memory. But as the sun dipped towards the sea, 
 we passed out of the narrow gateway. On our left lay the 
 plain of Troy, backed by the blue range of Mount Ida. The 
 tumulus of Patroclus crowned a low bluff looking on the sea. 
 On the right appeared the long, irregular island of Imbros, 
 and the peaks of misty Samothrace over and beyond it. Tene- 
 dos was before us The red flush of sunset tinged the grand 
 Homeric landscape, and lingered and lingered on the summit 
 of Ida, as if loth to depart. I paced the deck until long aftei 
 it was too dark to distinguish it any more. 
 
 The next morning we dropped anchor in the harbor of 
 Smyrna, where we remained five hours. I engaged a donkey, 
 and rode out to the Caravan Bridge, where the Greek drivei 
 aud I smoked narghilc-hs-and drank coffee in the shade of th 
 icacias. I contrasted my impressions with those o f my 6re<
 
 SMYRNA REVISITED. 
 
 85* 
 
 visit to Smyrna last October my first glimpse of Oriental 
 ground. Then, every dog barked at me, and all the horde of 
 human creatures who prey upon innocent travellers ran at mj 
 heels, but now, with my brown face and Turkish aspect of 
 grave indifference, I was suffered to pass as quietly as my 
 donkey-driver himself. Nor did the latter, nor the ready 
 aijidji, who filled our pipes on the banks of the Meles, attempt 
 to overcharge me a sure sign that the Orient had left its seal 
 on my face. Returning through the city, the same mishap 
 befel me which travellers usually experience on their first 
 arrival. My donkey, while dashing at full speed through a 
 crowd of Smyrniotes in their Sunday dresses, slipped up in t 
 little pool of black mud, and came down with a crash. I flew 
 over his head and alighted firmly on my feet, but the spruct 
 young Greeks, whose snowy fastanelles were terribly bespat 
 tered, came off much worse. The donkey shied back, levelled 
 his ears and twisted his head on one side, awaiting a beating, 
 but his bleeding legs saved him. 
 
 We left at two o'clock, touched at Scio in the evening, and 
 the next morning at sunrise lay-to in the harbor of Syra. The 
 Piraeus was only twelve hours distant - } but after my visitation 
 of fever in Constantinople, I feared to encounter the pestilen- 
 tial summer heats of Athens. Besides, I had reasons for 
 hastening with all speed to Italy and Germany. At ten 
 o'clock we weighed anchor again and steered southwards, 
 between the groups of the Cyciades, under a cloudless sky and 
 ever a sea of the brightest blue. The days were endurable under 
 .he canvas awning of our quarter-deck, but the nights in our 
 berths were sweat-baths, which left us so limp and exhausted 
 .hat we were almost fit to vanish, like ghosts, at daybreak.
 
 858 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 bnt our steam engine did not like this drudgery, and snapped 
 the rope repeatedly, so that at last we were obliged to leave 
 her to her fate. The lift we gave, however, had its effect, and 
 by dexterous raanoeuvering with the sails, the captain brought 
 her safely into the harbor of Gallipoli, where she dropped 
 anchor beside us, 
 
 Beyond Gallipoli, the Dardanelles contract, and the opposing 
 continents rise into lofty and barren hills. In point of natural 
 beanty, this strait is greatly inferior to the Bosphorus. It 
 lacks the streams and wooded valleys which open upon the 
 latter. The country is but partially cultivated, except around 
 the town of Dardanelles, near the mouth of the strait. The 
 si'';e of the bridge of Xerxes is easily recognized, the conforma- 
 ti3n of the different shores seconding the decision of anti- 
 quarians. Here, too, are Sestos and Abydos, of passionate 
 and poetic memory. But as the sun dipped towards the sea, 
 we passed out of the narrow gateway. On our left lay the 
 plain of Troy, backed by the blue range of Mount Ida. The 
 tumulus of Patroclus crowned a low bluff looking on the sea. 
 On the right appeared the long, irregular island of Imbros, 
 and the peaks of misty Samothrace over and beyond it. Tene- 
 dos was before us The red flush of sunset tinged the grand 
 Homeric landscape, and lingered and lingered on the summit 
 of Ida, as if loth to depart. I paced the deck until long aftei 
 it was too dark to distinguish it any more. 
 
 The next morning we dropped anchor in the harbor of 
 Smyrna, where we remained five hours. I engaged a donkey, 
 and rode out to the Caravan Bridge, where the Cireek drivei 
 aud I smoked narghilehs-and drank coffee in the shade of th 
 icacias. I contrasted my impressions with those o f my 6re<
 
 SMYRNA REVISITED. 
 
 
 
 visit to Smyrna last October my first glimpse of Oriental 
 ground Then, every dog barked at me, and all the horde of 
 human creatures who prey upon innocent travellers ran at my 
 heels, but now, with my brown face and Turkish aspect of 
 grave indifference, I was suffered to pass as quietly as my 
 donkey-driver himself. Xor did the latter, nor the ready 
 (xifidji, who filled our pipes on the banks of the Meles, attempt 
 to overcharge me a sure sign that the Orient had left its seal 
 on my face. Returning through the city, the same mishap 
 befel me which travellers usually experience on their first 
 arrival. My donkey, while dashing at full speed through a 
 crowd of Smyrniotes in their Sunday dresses, slipped up in 6 
 little pool of black mud, and came down with a crash. I flew 
 over his head and alighted firmly on my feet, but the spruct 
 young Greeks, whose snowy fustanelles were terribly bespat 
 tered, came off much worse. The donkey shied back, levelled 
 his ears and twisted his head on one side, awaiting a beating, 
 but his bleeding legs saved him. 
 
 We left at two o'clock, touched at Scio in the evening, and 
 the next morning at sunrise lay-to in the harbor of Syra. The 
 Pirseus was only twelve hours distant j but after my visitation 
 of fever in Constantinople, I feared to encounter the pestilen- 
 tial summer heats of Athens. Besides, I had reasons for 
 hastening with all speed to Italy and Germany. At ten 
 a'clock we weighed anchor again and steered southwards, 
 between the groups of the Cyciades, under a cloudless sky and 
 ever a sea of the brightest blue. The days were endurable under 
 die canvas awning of our quarter-deck, but the nights in our 
 berths were sweat-baths, which left us so limp and exhausted 
 Jiat we were almost (U. to vanish, like ghosts, at daybreak.
 
 862 THK LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 except a love-sick young damsel who spoke with a rough mascn 
 line voice, and made long strides across the stage when she rushed 
 into her lover's arms. I am at a loss to account for the exhaust 
 ing character of the heat. The thermometer shows 90 by day, 
 and 80 to 85 by night a much lower temperature than I 
 have found quite comfortable in Africa and Syria. In the 
 Desert 100 in the shade is rather bracing than otherwise ; 
 here, 90 renders all exercise, more severe than smoking a pipe, 
 impossible. Even in a state of complete inertia, a shirt-collar 
 will fall starchless in five minutes. 
 
 Rather than waste eight more days in this glimmering half- 
 existence, I have taken passage in a Maltese speronara, which 
 sails this evening for Catania, in Sicily, where the grand festi- 
 val of St. Agatha, which takes place once in a hundred years, 
 will be celebrated next week. The trip promises a new expe- 
 rience, and I shall get a taste, slight though it be, of the golden 
 Triuacria of the ancients. Perhaps, after all, this delay which 
 so vexes me (bear in mind, I am no longer in the Orient !) may 
 be meant solely for my good. At least, Mr. Winthrop, our 
 Consul here, who has been exceedingly kind and courteous to me 
 thinks it a rare good fortune that I shall see the Oatanini 
 festa
 
 863 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 THE FESTIVAL OP ST. AGATHA 
 
 Dep*tture from Malta The Speronara Our Fellow-Passengers The first Nlglt oa 
 Board Sicily Scarcity of Provisions Beating in the Calabrian Channel The 
 Fourth Morning The Gulf of Catania A Sicilian Landscape The Anchorage Thi 
 Suspected List The Streets of Catania Biography of St. Agatha The Illumination! 
 The Procession of the Veil The Biscari Palace The Antiquities of Catania Th 
 Convent of St. Nicola. 
 
 " The morn is full of holiday, loud bells 
 With rival clamors ring from every spire ; 
 Cunningly-stationed music dies and swells 
 In echoing places ; when the winds respire, 
 Light flags stream out like gauzy tongues of fire." KEATS 
 
 CATANIA, Sicily, Friday, AugvM 20, 1858. 
 
 1 WENT on board the speronara iu the harbor of La Valetta at 
 the appointed hour (5 p. M.), and found the remaining sixteen 
 pas?er.<rers already embarked. The captain made his appear- 
 ance an hour later, with our bill of health and passports, and 
 as the sun went down behind the brown hills of the island, we 
 passed the wave-worn rocks of the promontory, dividing the 
 two harbors, and slowly moved off towards Sicily. 
 
 The Maltese speronara, resembles the ancient Roman galley 
 more than any modern craft. It has the same high, curved 
 poop and stern, the same short masts and broad, square sails. 
 The hull is too broad for speed, but this adds to the security
 
 364 THE LANns OF THE SARACES. 
 
 of the vessel in a gale. With a fair wind, it rarely makes mow 
 than eight.knots an hour, and in a calm, the sailors (if not too 
 lazy) propel it forward with six long oars. The hull is painted 
 in a fanciful style, generally blue, red, green and white, with 
 bright red masts. The bulwarks are low, and the deck of such 
 a convexity that it is quite impossible to walk it in a heavy sea. 
 Such was the vessel to which I found myself consigned. It was 
 not more than fifty feet long, and of less capacity than a Xile 
 diihobiyeh. There was a sort of deck cabin, or crib, with two 
 berths, but most of the passengers slept in the hold. For a 
 passage to Catania I was obliged to pay forty francs, the 
 owner swearing that this was the regular price ; but, as 1 
 afterwards discovered, the Maltese only paid thirty-six franc* 
 for the whole trip. However, the Captain tried to make up 
 the money's worth in civilities, and was incessant in his atten- 
 tions to " your Lordships," as he styled myself and my com- 
 panion, Caesar di Cagnola, a young Milanese. 
 
 The Maltese were tailors and clerks, who were taking a 
 holiday trip to witness the great festival of St. Agatha. With 
 two exceptions, they were a wild and senseless, though good- 
 uatured set, and in spite of sea-sickness, which exercised there 
 terribly for the first two days, kept up a constant jabber in 
 their bastard Arabic from morning till night. As is usual ir 
 such a company, one of them was obliged to serve as a butt for 
 the rest, and " Maestro Paolo," as they termed him, wore such 
 a profoundly serious face all the while, from his sea-sickness, 
 that the fun never came to an end. As they were going to a 
 religious festival, some of them had brought their breviaries 
 along with them ; but I am obliged to testify that, after the 
 8rst day, prayers were totally forgotten. The sailors, how
 
 365 
 
 ever, wore linen bags, printed with a figure of the Madonna 
 around their necks. 
 
 The sea was rather rough, but Caesar and I fortified OUT 
 stomachs with a bottle of English ale, and as it was dark by 
 this time, sought our resting-places for the night. As we had 
 paid double, placf.s were assured us in the coop on deck, but 
 beds were not included in the bargain. The Maltese, who had 
 brought mattresses and spread a large Phalansteriau bed in 
 the hold, fared much better. I took one of my carpet bags 
 for a pillow and lay down on the planks, where I succeeded in 
 getting a little sleep between the groans of the helpless land- 
 lubbers. We had the ponente, or west-wind, all night, but the 
 speronara moved sluggishly, and in the morning it changed to 
 the greco-leranle, or north-east. No land was in sight ; but 
 towards noon, the sky became clearer, and we saw the southern 
 const of Sicily a bold mountain-shore, looming phantom-like 
 in the distance. Cape Passaro was to the east, and the rest of 
 the day was spent in beating up to it. At sunset, we were 
 near enough to see the villages and olive-groves of the beauti- 
 ful shore, and, far behind the nearer mountains, ninety miles 
 distant, the solitary cone of Etna. 
 
 The second night passed like the first, except that our 
 bruised limbs were rather more sensitive to the texture of the 
 planks. We crawled out of our coop at dawn, expecting to 
 behold Catftaia in the distance ; but there was Cape Passaro 
 Etill staring us in the face. The Maltese were patient, and we 
 did not complain, though Caesar and I began to make nice cal- 
 culations as to the probable duration of our two cold fowls 
 and three loaves of bread. The promontory of Syracuse wag 
 barely visible forty miles ahead ; b it the wind was against us
 
 366 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 and so another day passed in beating up the eastern coa^t, 
 At dusk, we overtook another speronara which had left Malt* 
 two hours before us, and this was quite a triumph to our cap 
 tain. All the oars were shipped, the sailors and some of tie 
 more courageous passengers took hold, and we shot ahead, 
 scudding rapidly along the dark shores, to the sound of the 
 wild Maltese songs. At length, the promontory was gained, 
 and the restless current, rolling down from Scylla and Charyb- 
 dis, tossed our little bark from wave to wave with a reckless- 
 ness that would have made any one nervous but an old sailor 
 like myself. 
 
 " To-morrow morning," said the Captain, " we shall sail into 
 Catania ;" but after a third night on the planks, which were 
 now a little softer, we rose to find ourselves abreast of Syra- 
 cuse, with Etna as distant as ever. The wind was light, and 
 what little we made by tacking was swept away by the cur- 
 rent, so that, after wasting the whole forenoon, we kept a 
 straight course across the mouth of the channel, and at sunset 
 saw the Calabrian Mountains. This move only lost us more 
 ground, as it happened. Caesar and I mournfully and silently 
 consumed our last fragment of beef, with the remaining dry 
 trusts of bread, and then sat down doggedly to smoke and see 
 whether the captain would discover our situation. But no ; 
 while we were supplied, the whole vessel was at our Lordships' 
 command, and now that we were destitute, he took care to 
 make no rash offers. Caesar, at last, with an imperial dignity 
 becoming his name, commanded dinner. It came, and the pork 
 and maccaroni, moistened with red Sicilian wine, gave us 
 patience for another day. 
 
 The fourth morning dawned, and Great Neptune be
 
 THE GULF OV CATANIA. 367 
 
 praised! we were actually within the Gulf of Catania. Etna 
 loomed up in all h ; s sublime bulk, unobscured by cloud or mist 
 while a slender jet of smoke rising from his crater, was slowlj 1 
 curling its wreaths in the clear air, as if happy to receive the 
 first beam of the sun. The towers of Syracuse, which had 
 mocked us all the preceding day, were no longer visible ; the 
 land-locked little port of Augusta lay behind us ; and, as the 
 wind continued favorable, erelong we saw a faint white mark 
 at the foot of the mountain. This was Catania. The shores 
 of the bay were enlivened with olive-groves and the gleam of 
 the villages, while here and there a single palm dreamed of it? 
 brothers across the sea. Etna, of course, had the monarch's 
 place in the landscape, but even his large, magnificent outlines 
 could not usurp all my feeling. The purple peaks to the west- 
 ward and farther inland, had a beauty of their own, and in the 
 gentle curves with which they leaned towards each other, there 
 was a promise of the flowery meadows of Enna. The smooth 
 blue water was speckled with fishing-boats. We hailed one, 
 inquiring when the festa was to commence ; but, mistaking our 
 question, they answered : " Anchovies." Thereupon, a waggish 
 Maltese informed them that Maestro Paolo thanked them 
 heartily. All the other boats were hailed in the name of 
 Maestro Paolo, who. having recovered from his sea-sickness, 
 took his bantering good-humoredly. 
 
 Catania presented a lovely picture, as we drew near the 
 harbor. Planted at the very foot of Etna, it has a background 
 such as neither Naples nor Genoa can boast. The hills next 
 the sea are covered with gardens and orchards, sprinkled with 
 little villages and the country palaces of the nobles a rich, 
 cultured landscape, which gradually merges into the forests of
 
 868 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEK 
 
 oak and chestnut that girdle the waist of the great volcano 
 But all the wealth of southern vegetation cannot hide the 
 footsteps of that Ruin, which from time to time visits the soil, 
 Half-way up, the mountain-side is dotted with cones of ashes and 
 cinders, some covered with the scanty shrubbery which centuries 
 have called forth, some barren and recent ; while two dark, 
 winding streams of sterile lava descend to the very shore, 
 where they stand congealed in ragged needles and pyramids. 
 Part of one of these black floods has swept the town, and, 
 tumbling into the sea, .walls one side of the port. 
 
 We glided slowly past the mole, and dropped anchor a few 
 yards from the shore. There was a sort of open promenade 
 planted with trees, in front of us, surrounded with high white 
 houses, above which rose the dome of the Cathedral and the 
 spires of other churches. The magnificent palace of Prince 
 Biscari was on our right, and at its foot the Customs and 
 Revenue offices. Every roof, portico, and window was lined 
 with lamps, a triumphal arch spanned the street before the 
 palace, and the landing-place at the offices was festooned with 
 crimson and white drapery, spangled with gold. While we 
 were waiting permission to land, a scene presented itself which 
 recalled the pagan days of Sicily to my mind. A procession 
 came in sight from under the trees, and passed along the shore. 
 In the centre was borne a stately shrine, hung with garlands, 
 und containing an image of St. Agatha. The sound of flutea 
 and cymbals accompanied it, and a band of children, bearing 
 orange and palm branches, danced riotously before. Had the 
 image been Pan instead of St. Agatha, the ceremonies would 
 have been quite as appropriate. 
 
 The speronara's boat at last took us to the gorgeous landing
 
 THE SUSPECTED LIST. 869 
 
 place where we were carefully counted by a fat Sicilian official, 
 and declared free from quarantine. We were then called into 
 ihe Passport Office, where the Maltese underwent a searching 
 examination. One of the officers sat with the Black Book, 01 
 list of suspected persons of all nations, open before him, ami 
 looked for each name as it was called out. Another scanm-n 
 the faces of the frightened tailors, as if comparing them with 
 certain revolutionary visages in his mind. Terrible was the 
 keen, detective glance of his eye, and it went straight through 
 the poor Maltese, who vanished with great rapidity when they 
 were declared free to enter the city. At last, they all passed 
 the ordeal, but Caesar and I remained, looking in at the door. 
 " There are still these two Frenchmen," said the captain. " 1 
 am no Frenchman," I protested ; " I am an Amricau." " And 
 I," said Caesar, " am an Austrian subject." Thereupon we 
 received a polite invitation to enter ; the terrible glance softened 
 into a benign, respectful smile ; he of the Black Book ran 
 lightly over the C's and T's, and said, with a courteous inclina- 
 tion : "There is nothing against the signori." I felt quite 
 relieved by this ; for, in the Mediterranean, one is never safe 
 from spies, and no person is too insignificant to escape the ban, 
 if once suspected. 
 
 Calabria was filled to overflowing with strangers from all 
 parts of the Two Sicilies, and we had some difficulty in finding 
 very bad and dear lodgings. It was the first day of the festa t 
 and the streets were filled with peasants, the men in black 
 relvet jackets and breeches, with stockings, and long white cot- 
 ton caps hanging on the shoulders, and the women with gay 
 silk shawls on their heads, after the manner of the Mexican 
 rcboza. lu all the public squares, the market scene in Masa 
 
 16*
 
 370 THE LANDS OF THE SAKAC&N. 
 
 niello was acted to the life. The Sicilian dialect is harsh and 
 barbarous, and the original Italian is so disguised by the admii 
 ture of Arabic, Spanish, French, and Greek words, that eveu 
 my imperial friend, who was a born Italian, had great difficulty 
 in understanding the people. 
 
 I purchased a guide to the festa, which, among other things 
 contained a biography of St. Agatha. It is a beautiful speci- 
 men of pious writing, and I regret that I have not space to 
 translate the whole of it. Agatha was a beautiful Catanian 
 virgin, who secretly embraced Christianity during the reign of 
 Nero. Catania was then governed by a praetor named Quin 
 tiauus, who, becoming enamored of Agatha, used the most 
 brutal means to compel her to submit to his desires, but with- 
 out effect. At last, driven to the crudest extremes, he cut off 
 her breasts, and threw her into prison. But at midnight, St. 
 Peter, accompanied by an angel, appeared to her, restored the 
 maimed parts, and left her more beautiful thau ever. Quin- 
 tiauus then ordered a furnace to be heated, and cast her 
 therein. A terrible earthquake shook the city ; the sun was 
 eclipsed ; the sea rolled backwards, and left its bottom dry ; 
 he praetor's palace fell in ruins, and he, pursued by the ven- 
 geance of the populace, fled till he reached the river Siuieto, 
 where he was drowned in attempting to cross. "The thunders 
 of the vengeance of God," says the biography, " struck him 
 down into the profouudest Hell !" This was iu the y&ur 
 252. 
 
 The body was carried to Constantinople in 1040, ' although 
 the Cataniaus wept incessantly at their loss ;" but in 1126, twc 
 French knights, named Gilisbert and Goselin, were moved by 
 augelic influences to restore it to its native town, ^ hich the\
 
 THE ILLUMINATION 371 
 
 accomplished, " and the eyes of the Catanian? tigain burned 
 with joy." The miracles effected by the saint are numberless 
 and her power is especially efficacious in preventing earth- 
 quakes and eruptions of Mount Etna. Nevertheless, Catauia 
 has suffered more from these causes than any other town in 
 Sicily. But I would that all saints had as good a claim tc 
 canonization as St. Agatha. The honors of such a festival as 
 this are not out of place, when paid to such youth, beauty, 
 and " heavenly chastity," as she typifies. 
 
 The guide, which I have already consulted, gives a full 
 account of the festa, in advance, with a description of Catania. 
 The author says : " If thy heart is not inspired by gazing on 
 this lovely city, it is a fatal sign thou wert not born to feel 
 the sweet impulses of the Beautiful !" Then, in announcing 
 the illuminations and pyrotechnic displays, he exclaims : " Oh, 
 the amazing spectacle 1 Oh, how happy art thou, that thon 
 b"holdest it ! What pyramids of lamps ! What myriads of 
 rockets ! What wonderful temples of flame ! The Mountain 
 himself is astonished at such a display." And truly, except 
 the illumination of the Golden Horn on the Night of Predes- 
 tination, I have seen nothing equal to the spectacle presented 
 by Catania, during the past three nights. The city, which has 
 beeu built up from her ruins more stately than ever, was in a 
 blaze of light all her domes, towers, and the long lines of her 
 beautiful palaces revealed in the varying red and golden flames 
 of a hundred thousand lamps and torches. Pyramids of lire, 
 transparencies, and illuminated triumphal arches filled the four 
 principal streets, and the fountain in the Cathedral square 
 gleamed like a jet of molten silver, spinning up from one of the 
 pores of Etna. At ten o'clock, a gorgeous display of fire-workj
 
 372 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 closed the day's festivities, but the lamps remained burning 
 nearly all night. 
 
 On the second night, the grand Procession of the Yeil took 
 place. I witnessed this imposing spectacle from the balcony 
 cf Prince Gessina's pala :e. Long lines of waxen torches led 
 the way, followed by a military band, and then a company of 
 the highest prelates, in their most brilliant costumes, surround 
 ing the Bishop, who walked under a canopy of silk and gold, 
 bearing the miraculous veil of St. Agatha. I was blessed with 
 a distant view of it, but could see no traces of the rosy hue 
 left upon it by the flames of the Saint's martyrdom. Behind 
 the priests came the Intendente of Sicily, Gen. Filangieri, the 
 same who, three years ago, gave up Catania to sack and 
 slaughter. He was followed by the Senate of the City, who 
 have just had the cringing cowardice to offer him a ball on 
 next Sunday night. If ever a man deserved the vengeance of 
 an outraged people, it is this Filangieri, who was first a Liberal, 
 when the cause promised success, and then made himself the 
 scourge of the vilest of kings. As he passed me last night in 
 his carriage of State, while the music peak-d iu rich rejoicing 
 strains, that solemn chant with which the monks break upon 
 the revellers, iu " Lncrezia Borgia," came into my mind : 
 
 " La gioja dei profani 
 1 E un fumo passagier' " 
 
 [the rejoicing of the profane is a transitory mist.] I heard, 
 under the din of all these festivities, the voice of that Retribu 
 tion which even now lies in wait, and will not long be delayed. 
 To-night Signer Scavo, the American Vice-Consul, took me 
 u> the palace of Prince Biscari, overlooking the harbor, ii
 
 TH BISCARI PALACE. 878 
 
 order to behold the grand display of fireworks from the end of 
 the mole. The showers of rockets and colored stars, and tlu 
 temples of blue and silver fire, were repeated in the dark, quiet 
 bosom of the sea, producing the most dazzling and startling 
 effects. There was a large number of the Catauese uobilitj 
 present, and among them a Marchesa Gioveni, the descendant 
 of the bloody house of Anjou. Prince Biscari is a benign, 
 courtly old man, and greatly esteemed here. His son is at 
 present in exile, on account of the part he took in the late 
 revolution. During the sack of the city under Filangieri, the 
 palace was plundered of property to the amount of ten thou- 
 sand dollars. The museum of Greek and Roman antiquitie/ 
 attached to it, and which the house of Biscari has been collect- 
 ing for many years, is probably the finest in Sicily. The state 
 apartments were thrown open this evening, and when I left, at 
 hour ago, the greater portion of the guests were going through 
 mazy quadrilles on the mosaic pavements. 
 
 Among the antiquities of Catania which I have visited, are 
 the Amphitheatre, capable of holding 15,000 persons, the old 
 Greek Theatre, the same in which Alcibiades made his noted 
 harangue to the Catanians, the Odeon, and the ancient Baths 
 The theatre, which is in tolerable preservation, is built of lava 
 like many of the modern edifices in the city. The Baths 
 proved to me, what I had supposed, that the Oriental Bath of 
 t'io present day is identical with that of the Ancients. Why 
 so admirable an institution has never been introduced into 
 Europe (except in the Sains Chinou of Paris) is more than I 
 can tell From the pavement of these baths, which is nearly 
 twenty feet below the surface of the earth, the lava of later 
 eruptions has burst up, in places, ir hard black jets. The most
 
 374 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 wonderful token of that flood which whelmed Catania tac 
 hundred years ago, is to be seen at the Grand Benedictine 
 Convent of San Nicola, in the upper part of the city. Here 
 the stream of lava divides itself just before the Convent, and 
 flows past on both sides, leaving the building and gardens 
 untouched. The marble courts, the fountains, the splendid 
 galleries, and the gardens of richest southern bloom and fra 
 grance, stand like an epicurean island in the midst of the terri 
 ble stony waves, whose edges bristle with the thorny aloe and 
 cactus. The monks of San Nicola are all chosen from the 
 Sicilian nobility, and live a comfortable life of luxury and vice. 
 Each one has his own carriage, horses, and servants, and each 
 his private chambers outside of the convent walls and his kept 
 concubines. These facts are known and acknowledged by the 
 Catanians, to whom they are a lasting scandal. 
 
 It is past midnight, and I must close. Caesar started this 
 afternoon, alone, for the ascent of Etna. I would have accom- 
 panied him, but my only chance of reaching Messina in time 
 for the next steamer to Naples is the diligence which leaves 
 here to-morrow. The mountain has been covered with clouds 
 for the last two days, and I have had no view at all compara- 
 ble to that of the morning of my arrival. To-morrow the 
 trrand procession of the Body of St. Agatha takes place, but 
 J am quite satisfied with three days of processions and horse 
 races, and three nights of illuminations. 
 
 I leave in the morning, with a Sicilian passport, mf own 
 availing me nothing, after landing.
 
 THE MOUNTAIN THREATEN* 375 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 THE ERUPTION OF MOUNT ET.NA 
 
 Cae llfuntaui Threatens The Sif&a Increase We Leave Catania Gardens Amor.j 
 the Luva Etna Labors Aci Keale Tlie Groans of Etna The Eruption OrigffrJIc 
 Tree of Smoke Formation of the New Crater We Lose Sight of the Mountain Arrival 
 at Messina Etna is Obscured Departure. 
 
 ' the shattered side 
 
 Of thundering JStna, whose combustible 
 
 And fuel'd entrails thence conceiving fire, 
 
 Sublimed with mineral fury, aid the winds, 
 
 And leave a singed bottom." MII.TOM. 
 
 MSSSINA, Sicily, Jftmday, August 28, 1882. 
 
 THE noises of the festival had not ceased when I closed mj 
 letter at midnight, on Friday last. I slept soundly through 
 the night, but was awakened before sunrise by uiy Sicilian land- 
 lord. " O, Excellenza ! have you heard the Mountain ? He is 
 going to break out again ; may the holy Santa Agatha protect 
 us 1" It is rather ill-timed on the part of the Mountain, was 
 my in\oluntary first thought, that he should choose for a new 
 eruption precisely the centennial festival of the only Saint who 
 is supposed to have any power over him. It shows a disregard 
 of female influence not at all suited to the present day, and I 
 scarcely believe that he seriously means it. Next came along 
 the jabbering landlady : " I don't like his looks. It was just 
 so the last time. Come, Excellenza, you can see him from the
 
 THK LANDS OF THE SARACBN. 
 
 back terrace." The sun was not yet risen, but the east was 
 bright with his coming, and there was not a cloud in the sky 
 All the features of Etna were sharply sculptured in the clear 
 air. From the topmost cone, a thick stream ol white smoke 
 was slowly puffed out at short intervals, and rolled lazily down 
 the eastern side. It had a heavy, languid character, and . 
 should have thought nothing of the appearance but for th. 
 alarm of my hosts. It was like the slow fire of EarthV 
 incense, burning on that grand mouatain altar. 
 
 I hurried off to the Post Office, to await the arrival of the 
 diligence from Palermo. The office is in the Strada Etnea, 
 the main street of Catania, which runs straight through the 
 city, from the sea to the base of the mountain, whose peat 
 closes the long vista. The diligence was an hour later than 
 usual, and I passed the time in watching the smoke which con- 
 tinued to increase in volume, and was mingled, from time to 
 time, with jets of inky blackness. The postilion said he had 
 seen fires and heard loud noises during the night. According 
 to his account, the disturbances commenced about midnight. 
 I could not but envy my friend Csesar, who was probably at 
 that moment on the summit, looking down into the seething 
 fires of the crater. 
 
 At last, we rolled out of Catania. There were in the dili- 
 gence, besides myself, two men and a woman, Sicilians of the 
 secondary class. The road followed the shore, over rugged 
 tracts of lava, the different epochs of which could be distinctly 
 traced in the character of the vegetation. The last great flow 
 (of 1679) stood piled in long rWges of terrible sterility, barely 
 allowing the aloe and cactus to take root in the hollows between 
 The older deposits were sufficiently decomposed to nourish
 
 THE MOUNTAIN LABORS. 871 
 
 the olive and vine ; but even here, the orchards were studded 
 with pyramids of the harder fragments, which are laborious!) 
 3ollected by the husbandmen. In the few favored spots which 
 have been untouched for so many ages that a tolerable depth of 
 soil has accumulated, the vegetation has all the richness and 
 brilliancy of tropical lands. The palm, orange, and pome- 
 granate thrive luxuriantly, and the vines almost break under 
 their heavy clusters. The villages are frequent and well built, 
 and the hills are studded, far and near, with the villas of rich 
 proprietors, mostly buildings of one story, with verandahs 
 extending their whole length. Looking up towards Etna, 
 whose base the road encircles, the views are gloriously rich and 
 beautiful. On the other hand is the blue Mediterranean and 
 the irregular outline of the shore, here and there sending forth 
 promontories of lava, cooled by the waves into the most fan- 
 tastic forms. 
 
 We had not proceeded far before a new sign called ray 
 attention to the mountain. Not only was there a perceptible 
 jar or vibration in the earth, but a dull, groaning sound, like 
 the muttering of distant thunder, began to be heard. The 
 smoke increased in volume, and, as we advanced further to the 
 eastward, and much nearer to the great cone, I perceived that 
 it consisted of two jets, issuing from different mouths. A 
 broad stream of very dense white smoke still flowed over the 
 lip of the topmost crater and down the eastern side. As its 
 breadth did not vary, and the edges were distinctly defined, it 
 was no doubt the sulphureous vapor rising from a river of 
 molten lava. Perhaps a thousand yards below, a much stronger 
 column of mingled black and white smoke gushed up, in regular 
 heats or pauts, from a depression in the mountain side, between
 
 878 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 two small, extinct cones. All this part of Etna was scarred 
 with deep chasms, and in the bottoms of those nearest the 
 opening, I could see the red gleam of fire. The air was per- 
 fectly still, and as yet there was no cloud in the sky. 
 
 When we stopped to change horses at the town of Aci 
 Reale, I first felt the violence of the tremor and the awful 
 sternness of the sound. The smoke by this time seemed to be 
 gathering on the side towards Catania, and hung in a dark 
 mass about half-way down the mountain. Groups of the vil- 
 lagers were gathered in the streets which looked upwards tc 
 Etna, and discussing the chances of an eruption. " Ah," said 
 an old peasant, " the Mountain knows how to make himself 
 respected. When he talks, everybody listens." The sound 
 was the most awful that ever met my ears. It was a hard, 
 painful moan, now and then fluttering like a suppressed sob, 
 and had, at the same time, an expression of threatening and of 
 agony. It did not come from Etna alone. It had no fixed 
 location ; it pervaded all space. It was in the air, in the 
 depths of the sea, in the earth under my feet everywhere, in 
 fact ; and as it continued to increase in violence, I experienced 
 a sensation of positive pain. The people looked anxious and 
 alarmed, although they said it was a good thing for all Sicily ; 
 that last year they had been in constant fear from earthquakes, 
 and that an eruption invariably left the island quiet for several 
 fears. It is true that, during the past year, parts of Sicily 
 and Calabria have been visited with severe shocks, occasioning 
 much damage to property. A merchant of this city informed 
 me yesterday that his whole family had slept for two months 
 ID the vaults of his warehouse, fearing that the/r residence 
 might oe shaken down in the night.
 
 THE ERUPTION. 37$ 
 
 As wt rode along from Aci Reale to TaDrraina, all the rat- 
 tling of the diligence over the rough road could not drown 
 the awful noise. There was a strong smell of sulphur in the 
 air, and the thick pants of smoke from the lower crater ;on 
 tinued to increase in strength. The sun was fierce and hot, 
 and the edges of the sulphureous clouds shone with a dazzling 
 whiteness. A mounted soldier overtook us, and rode beside 
 the diligence, talking with the postillion. He had been up to 
 the mountain, and was taking his report to the Governor oi 
 the district. The heat of the day and the continued tremoi 
 of the air lulled me into a sort of doze, when I was suddenly 
 aroused by a cry from the soldier and the stopping of the dili- 
 gence. At the same time, there was a terrific peal of sound, 
 followed by a jar which must have shaken the whole island. 
 We looked up to Etna, which was fortunately in full view 
 before us. An immense mass of snow-white smoke had burst 
 up from the crater and was rising perpendicularly into the air, 
 its rounded volumes rapidly whirling one over the other, yet 
 urged with such impetus that they only rolled outwards after 
 they had ascended to an immense height. It might have beec 
 one minute or five for I was so entranced by this wonderful 
 spectacle that I lost the sense of time but it seemed instant 
 aneous (so rapid and violent were the effects of the expksicn) 
 when there stood in the air, based on the summit of the moun- 
 tain, a mass of smoke four or five miles high, and shaped prr, 
 cisely like the Italian pine tree. 
 
 Words cannot paint the grandeur of this mighty tree. It? 
 trunk of columned smoke, one side of which was silvered by the 
 sun. while the other, in shadow, was lurid with red flame, rose 
 for more than a mile before it sent out its clcudy boughs. Then
 
 380 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN 
 
 parting into a thousand streams, each of which again thre\\ 
 out its branching tufts of smoke, rolling and waving in the ^i. 
 it stood in intense relief against the dark blue of the sky. Its 
 rounded masses of foliage were dazzliugly white on one side, 
 while, in the shadowy depths of the branches, there was a con- 
 stant play of brown, yellow, and crimson tints, revealing the 
 Central shaft of fire. It was like the tree celebrated in the 
 Scandinavian sagas, as seen by the mother of Harold Har- 
 drada that tree, whose roots pierced through the earth, whose 
 trunk was of the color of blood, and whose branches filled the 
 uttermost corners of the heavens. 
 
 This outburst seemed to have relieved the mountain, for the 
 tremors were now less violent, though the terrible noise still 
 droned in the air, and earth, and sea. And now, from the 
 base of the tree, three white streams slowly crept into as map.v 
 separate chasms, against the walls of which played the flicker- 
 ing glow of the burning lava. The column of smoke and flame 
 was still hurled upwards, and the tree, after standing about 
 ten minutes a new and awful revelation of the active forces 
 of Nature gradually rose and spread, lost its form-, and, 
 slowly moved by a light wind (the first that disturbed the dead 
 calm of the day), bent over to the eastward. We resumed 
 our course. The vast belt of smoke at last arched over the 
 strait, here about twenty miles wide, and sank towards the 
 distant Calabrian shore. As we drove uuder it, for some milet 
 of our way the sun was totally obscured, and the sky pre 
 Bented the singular spectacle of two hemispheres of clear blue, 
 with a broad belt of darkness drawn between them. There 
 was a hot, sulphureous vapor in the air, and showers of white 
 ashes fell, from time to time. We were distant about twelve
 
 WE LOSE SIGHT OF ETNA. 88 J 
 
 miles, in a straight line, from the crater ; bat the air was st 
 clear, even under the shadow of the smoke, that I could dis 
 tinctly trace the downward movement of the rivers of lava. 
 
 This was the eruption, at lust, to which all the phenomei.a 
 of the morning had been only preparatory. For the first time 
 in ten years the depths of Etna had been stirred, and I thanked 
 God for my detention at Malta, and the singular hazard of 
 travel which had brought me here, to his very base, to witness 
 a scene, the impression of which I shall never lose, to my dying 
 day. Although the eruption may continue and the mountain 
 pour forth fiercer fires and broader tides of lava, I cannot but 
 think that the first upheaval, which lets out the long-imprisoned 
 forces, will not be equalled in grandeur by any later spectacle. 
 
 After passing Taormina, our road led us under the hills ol 
 the coast, and although I occasionally caught glimpses of Etna, 
 and saw the reflection of fires from the lava which was filling 
 up his savage ravines, the smoke at last encircled nis waist, 
 and ne was then shut out of sight by the intervening moun- 
 tains. We lost a bolt in a deep valley opening on the sea, and 
 during our stoppage I could still hear the groans of the Moun- 
 tain, though farther off and less painful to the ear. Aa 
 evening came on, the beautiful hills of Calabria, with white 
 towns and villages on their sides, gleamed in the purple light 
 of the setting sun. We drove around headland after headland, 
 till the strait opened, and we looked over the harbor of Messina 
 to Capo Faro, and the distant islands of the Tyrrhene Sea. 
 
 I leave this afternoon for Naples and Leghorn. I have lost 
 already so much time between Constantinople and this place
 
 d82 THE IANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 that I cannot give up ten days more to Etna. Besides, I an 
 so thoroughly satisfied with what I have seen, that I fear uc 
 second view of the eruption could equal it. Etna cannot be 
 seen from here, nor from a nearer point than a mountain six or 
 eight miles distant. I tried last evening to get a horse and 
 ride out to it, in order to see the appearance of the eruption 
 by night ; but every horse, mule and donkey in the place was 
 engaged, except a miserable lame mule, for which five dollars 
 was demanded. Howerer, the night happened to be cloudy 
 so that I could have seen nothing. 
 
 My passport is finally en regie. It has cost the labors oi 
 myself and an able-bodied valet-de-place since yesterday morning, 
 and the expenditure of five dollars and a half, to accomplish 
 this great work. I have just been righteously abusing the 
 Neapolitan Government to a native merchant whom, from hu 
 name, I took to be a Frenchman, but as I am off in an hour 01 
 two, hope to escape arrest. Perdition to all Tyranny !
 
 LINKS OF TRAVEL. 383 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 GIBRALTAR. 
 
 CnwritUu Links of T avel Departure from Southampton The Bay of Biscay Cintra 
 Trafalgar Gibra tar at Midnight Landing Search fora Palm-Tree A Brilliant 
 Morning The Convexity of the Enrth Sun -Worship The Rock. 
 
 'to the north- west, Cape St. Vincent died away, 
 
 Sunset ran, a burning blood-red, blushing into Cadiz Bay. 
 
 In the dimmest north-east distance dawned Gibraltar, grand and gray.*' 
 
 BBOWHIIO. 
 
 GIBRALTAR, Saturday, November 8, 1362. 
 
 1 LEAVE unrecorded the links of travel which connected Mes- 
 sina and Gibraltar. They were over the well-trodden fields of 
 Europe, where little ground is left that is not familiar. In 
 leaving Sicily I lost the Saracenic trail, which I had been fol- 
 lowing through the East, and first find it again here, on the 
 rock of Calpe, whose name, Djebel d-Tarik (the Mountain of 
 Tank), still speaks of the fiery race whose rule extended from 
 the unknown ocean of the West to " Gauges and Hydaspcs. 
 Indian streams." In Malta and Sicily, I saw their decaying 
 watch-towers, and recognized their sign-manual in the deep, 
 guttural, masculine words and expressions which they have 
 left behind them. 1 now design following their footsteps 
 through the beautiful Bdad-el-Andaluz, which, to the eye of
 
 384 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 the Melek Abd-er-rahman, was only less lovely than the plains 
 of Damascus. 
 
 While in Constantinople, I received letters which opened to 
 me wider and richer fields of travel than I had already tra- 
 versed. I saw a possibility of exploring the far Indian realms, 
 the shores of farthest Cathay and the famed Zipaugo of Marco 
 Polo. Before entering on this new sphere of experiences, how- 
 ever, it was necessary for me to visit Italy, Germany, and 
 England. I sailed from Messina to Leghorn, and travelled 
 thence, by way of Florence, Venice, and the Tyrol, to Munich 
 After three happy weeks at Gotha, and among the valleys of 
 the Thiiringian Forest, I went to London, where business and 
 the preparation for my new journeys detained me two or three 
 weeks longer. Although the comforts of European civilization 
 were pleasant, as a change, after the wild life of the Orient, the 
 autumnal rains of England soon made me homesick for the 
 sunshine I had left. The weather was cold, dark, and dreary, 
 and the oppressive, sticky atmosphere of the bituminous metro- 
 polis weighed upon me like a nightmare. Heartily tired of 
 looking at a sun that could show nothing brighter than a red 
 copper disk, and of breathing an air that peppered my face 
 with particles of soot, I left on the 28th of October. It was 
 one of the dismalest days of autumn ; the meadows of Berk- 
 shire were flooded with broad, muddy streams, and the woods 
 on the hills of Hampshire looked brown and sodden, as if 
 slowly rotting away. I reached Southampton at dusk, bat 
 there the sky was neither warmer nor clearer, so I spent the 
 evening over a coal fire, all impatience for the bright beloved 
 South, towards which my face was turned once more. 
 
 The Madras left on the next day, at 2 P.M , in the midst at
 
 THE BAY OF BISCAY. 386 
 
 a cheerless rain, which half blotted out the pleasant shores of 
 Southampton Water, and the Isle of Wight. The Madrat 
 was a singularly appropriate vessel for one bound on such a 
 journey as mine. The surgeon was Dr. Mungo Park, and one 
 of my room-mates was Mr. R. Crusoe. It was a Friday, 
 which boded no good for the voyage ; but then my journey com- 
 menced with my leaving London the day previous, and Thurs- 
 day is a lucky day among the Arabs. I caught a watery view 
 of the gray cliffs of the Needles, when dinner was announced, 
 but many were those (and I among them) who commenced 
 that meal, and did not stay to finish it. 
 
 Is there any piece of water more unreasonably, distressingly, 
 disgustingly rough and perverse than the British Channel ? 
 YTes : there is one, and but one the Bay of Biscay. And as 
 the latter succeeds the former, without a pause between, and 
 the head-winds never ceased, and the rain continually poured, 
 I leave you to draw the climax of my misery. Four days and 
 four nights in a berth, lying on your back, now do/ing dull 
 hour after hour, now making faint endeavors to eat, or reading 
 the feeblest novel ever written, because the mind cannot digest 
 stronger aliment can there be a greater contrast to the wide- 
 awake life, the fiery inspiration, of the Orient? My blood 
 oecame so sluggish and my mind so cloudy and befogged, that 
 I despaired of ever thinking clearly or feeling vividly again. 
 "The winds are rude" in Biscay, Byron says. They are, 
 indeed : very rude. They must have been raised in some most 
 disorderly quarter of the globe. They pitched the waves right 
 over oar bulwarks, and now and then dashed a bucketful of 
 water down the cabin skylight, swamping the ladies' cabin, and 
 letting scores of bandboxes afloat. Not that there was th
 
 886 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 least actual danger ; but Mrs. would not be persuaded 
 
 that we were not on the brink of destruction, and wrote to 
 friends at home a voluminous account of her feelings. There 
 was an Irishman on board, bound to Italy, with his sister. It 
 was his first tour, and when asked why he did not go direct, 
 through France, he replied, with brotherly concern, that he 
 was anxious his sister should see the Bay of Biscay. 
 
 This youth's perceptions were of such an emerald hue, that 
 a lot of wicked Englishmen had their own fun out of him. 
 The other day, he was trying to shave, to the great danger of 
 slicing off his nose, as the vessel was rolling fearfully. "Why 
 don't you have the ship headed to the wind ?" said one of the 
 Englishmen, who heard his complaints ; " she will then lie 
 steady, and you can shave beautifully." Thereupon the Irish 
 man sent one of the stewards upon deck with a polite message 
 to the captain, begging him to put the vessel about for five 
 minutes. 
 
 Towards noon of the fifth day, we saw the dark, rugged 
 mountains that guard the north-western corner of the Spanish 
 Peninsula. We passed the Bay of Corunna, and rourding the 
 bold headland of Finisterre, left the Biscayan billov s behind 
 us. But the sea was still rough and the sky clouded, although 
 the next morning the mildness of the air showed the change iu 
 out latitude. About noon that day, we made the Burliugs, a 
 cluster of rocks forty miles north of Lisbon, and just before 
 sunset, a transient lifting of the clouds revealed the Rock of 
 Cintra, at the mouth of the Tagus, The tall, perpendicular 
 cliffs, and the mountain slopes behind, covered with grdeua, 
 orchards, and scattered villas and hamlets, made a gram' 
 though dim picture, which was soon hidden from our view.
 
 LANDING AT GIBRALTAR. 387 
 
 On the 4th, we were nearly all day crossing the mouth of 
 {he Bay of Cadiz, and only at sunset saw Cape Trafalgar afai 
 off, glimmering through the reddish haze. J remained on deck, 
 as there were patches of starlight in the sky. After passing 
 the light-house at Tarifa, the Spanish shore continued to bf 
 visible. In another hour, there was a dun, cloudy outline high 
 above the horizon, on our right. This was the Lesser Atlas, 
 in Morocco. And now, right ahead, distinctly visible, though 
 fifteen miles distant, lay a colossal 'lion, with his head on his 
 outstretched paws, looking towards Africa. If I bad been 
 brought to the spot blindfolded, I should have known what it 
 was. The resemblance is certainly very striking, and the light- 
 house on Europa Point seemed to be a lamp held in his paws. 
 The lights of the city and fortifications rose one by one, glit- 
 tering along the base, and at midnight we dropped anchor 
 before them on the western side. 
 
 I landed yesterday morning. The mists, which had followed 
 me from England, had collected behind the Rock, and the sun, 
 still hidden by its huge bulk, shone upwards through them, 
 making a luminous background, against which the lofty walla 
 and jagged ramparts of this tremendous natural fortification 
 were clearly defined. I announced my name, and the length 
 of time I designed remaining, at a little office on the quay, and 
 was then allowed to pass into the city. A number of familiar 
 white turbans met me on entering, and I could not resist the 
 temptation of cordially saluting the owners in their own lan- 
 guage. The town is long and narrow, lying steeply against 
 the Rock. The houses are white, yellow and pink, as iu 
 Spanish towns, but the streets are clean and well paved 
 There is a square, about the size of an jrdinary hoildiug-lot
 
 S88 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 where a sort of market of dry goods and small articles is held 
 The " Clnb-House Hotel " occupies one side of it ; and, as 1 
 look out of my window upon it, I see the topmost cliffs of the 
 Rock above me, threatening to topple down from a height of 
 1 ,500 feet 
 
 My first walk in Gibraltar was in search of a palm-tree 
 Alter threading the whole length of the town, I found two 
 small ones in a garden, in the bottom of the old moat. The 
 sun was shining, and his rays seemed to fall with double 
 warmth on their feathery crests. Three brown Spaniards 
 bare-armed, were drawing water with a pole and bucket, and 
 filling the little channels which conveyed it to the distant vege- 
 tables. The sea glittered blue below ; an Indian fig-tree 
 shaded me ; but, on the rock behind, an aloe lifted its blossom- 
 ing stem, some twenty feet high, into the sunshine. To 
 describe what a weight was lifted from my heart would seem 
 foolish to those who do not know on what little things the 
 whole tone of our spirits sometimes depends. 
 
 But if an even balance was restored yesterday, the opposite 
 scale kicked the beam this morning. Not a speck of vapor 
 blurred the spotless crystal of the sky, as I walked along the 
 hanging paths of the Alameda. The sea was dazzling ultra- 
 marine, with a purple lustre ; every crag and notch of the 
 mountains across the bay, every shade of brown or gray, or 
 the green of grassy patches, was drawn and tinted with a 
 pencil so exquisitely delicate as almost to destroy the perspect- 
 ive. The white houses of Algeciras, five miles off, appeared 
 dose at hand : a little toy-town, backed by miniature hills 
 A.pes Hill, the ancient Abyla, in Africa, advanced to meeJ 
 Calpe, its opposing pillar, and Atlas swept away to the eaa*
 
 THE COKVEZITY OF THE EABTH. 88i 
 
 ward, its blae becoming paler and paler, till the powers of 
 riaion filially failed. From the top of the southern point of 
 the Rock, I saw the mountain-shore of Spain, as far as Malaga, 
 and the snowy top of one of the Sierra Nevada. Looking 
 eastward to the horizon line of the Mediterranean, my sight 
 extended so far, in the wonderful clearness of the air, that the 
 convexity of the earth's surface was plainly to be seen. The 
 sea, instead of being a plane, was slightly convex, and the sky 
 instead of resting upon it at the horizon, curved down beyond 
 it, as the upper side of a horn curves over the lower, when one 
 looks into the month. There is none of the many aspects of 
 Nature more grand than this, which is so rarely seen, that I 
 believe the only person who has ever described it is Humboldt, 
 who saw it, looking from the Silla de Caraccas over the Carib- 
 bean Sea. It gives you the impression of standing on the edge 
 of the earth, and looking off into space. From the mast-head, 
 the ocean appears either flat or slightly concave, and aeronauts 
 declare that this apparent concavity becomes more marked, the 
 higher they ascend. It is only at those rare periods when the 
 air is so miraculously clear as to produce the effect of no air 
 rendering impossible the slightest optical illusion that our 
 eyes can see things as they really are. So pure was the atmo- 
 sphere to-day, that, at meridian, the moon, although a thin 
 sickle, three days distant from the sun, shone perfectly white 
 nd clear. 
 
 As I loitered in the Alameda, between thick hedges of ever 
 blooming geraniums, clumps of heliotrope three feet high, and 
 luxuriant masses of ivy, around whose warm flowers the beei 
 clustered and hummed, I could only think of the voyage at) a 
 hideous dream. The fog and gloom had been in my own eyet
 
 390 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN 
 
 and iii my own brain, and naw the blessed sun, shining full u 
 my face, awoke me. I am a worshipper of the Sun. I took 
 off my hat to him, as I stood there, in a wilderness of white, 
 crimson, and purple flowers, and let him blaze away in my face 
 for a quarter of an hour. Aud as I walked home with my 
 back to him, I often turned my face from side to side that I 
 might feel his touch on my cheek. How a man can live, who 
 is sentenced to a year's imprisonment, is more than I can 
 understand. 
 
 But all this (you will say) gives you no picture of Gibral 
 tar. The Rock is so familiar to all the world, in prints and 
 descriptions, that I fin I nothing new to say of it, except that 
 it is by no means so barren a rock as the island of Malta, 
 being clothed, in many places, with beautiful groves and the 
 greenest turf ; besides, I have not yet seen the rock-galleries, 
 having taken passage for Cadiz this afternoon. When I 
 return as I hope to do in twenty days, after visiting SevilU 
 and Granada I shall procure permission to view all the forti 
 fixations, and likewise to ascend to the summit
 
 VOYAGE TO CADIZ. 39 1 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 CADIZ AND SEVILLE. 
 
 to Cadli Landing The City Its Streets The Women o Cadis Umbafka 
 MOD for Seville Scenery of the Guadalquivir Custom Houso Examination Thi 
 Guide The Streets of Seville The Giralda The Cathedral of Seville The Alcasar- 
 Monrish Architecture Pilate's House Morning View from the Giralda Old Wine 
 Murillos My Last Evening in Seville. 
 
 " The walls of Cadii front the shore, 
 
 Andshter.icr o'er the sea." R. H. STODDHD. 
 
 " Beautiful Seville ! 
 
 Of which I've dreamed, until I saw Its towers 
 In every cloud that hid the setting sun." GKOBQK H. BOKIR. 
 
 SKVILU, November 10, 1852. 
 
 I LEFT Gibraltar on the evening of the 6th, in the steamei 
 Iberia. The passage to Cadiz was made in nine hours, and we 
 came to anchor in the harbor before day-break. It was a cheer 
 ful picture that the rising sun presented to us. The long white 
 front of the city, facing the East, glowed with a bright rosy 
 lustre, on a ground of the clearest blue. The tongue of land 
 on which Cadiz stands is low, but the houses are lifted by the 
 heavy sea-wall which encompasses them. The main-laud con- 
 sists of a range of low but graceful hills, while in the south- 
 east the mountains of Rouda rise at some distance. I went 
 immediately on shore, where my carpet- bag was seized upon
 
 R93 THK LANDS OF THE 81RACEN. 
 
 by a boy, with the rich brown complexion of one of 
 Murillo's beggars, who trudged off with it to the gate 
 After some little detention there, I was conducted to a long, 
 deserted, barn-like building, where I waited half an hour before 
 the proper officer came. When the latter had taken his private 
 toll of my contraband cigars, the brown imp conducted me to 
 Blanco's English Hotel, a neat and comfortable house on the 
 Alameda. 
 
 Cadiz is soon seen. Notwithstanding its venerable age of 
 three thousand years having been founded by Hercules, who 
 figures on its coat-of-arms it is purely a commercial city, and 
 has neither antiquities, nor historic associations that interest 
 any but Englishmen. It is compactly built, and covers a 
 smaller space than accords with my ideas of its former splei.- 
 dor. I first walked around the sea-ramparts, enjoying the 
 glorious look-off over the blue waters. The city is almost in- 
 sulated, the triple line of fortifications on the land side being 
 of but trifling length. A rocky ledge stretches out into the 
 sea from the northern point, and at its extremity rises the mas- 
 sive light-house tower, 170 feet high. The walls toward the sea 
 were covered with companies of idle anglers, fishing with cane 
 rods of enormous length. On the open, waste spaces between 
 the bastions, boys had spread their limed cords to catch singing 
 birds, with chirping decoys placed here and there in wicker 
 cages. Numbers of boatmen and peasants, in their brown 
 jackets, studded with tags and bugles, and those round black 
 caps which resemble smashed bandboxes, loitered about the 
 walls or lounged on the grass in the sun. 
 
 Except along the Alarm -da, which fronts the bay, the exte- 
 rior of the city has an aspect of neglect find d'seition The
 
 interior, however, atones for this in the gay and lively air of its 
 streets, *hich, though narrow, arc regular and charmingly 
 clean. The small plazas are neatness itself, and one is too con- 
 tent with this to ask for striking architectural effects. The 
 houses are tall and stately, of the most dazzling whiteness, and 
 though you could point out no one as a pattern of style, the gene- 
 ra, effect is chaste and harmonious. In fact, there are two or 
 three streets which you would almost pronounce faultless. The 
 numbers of hanging balconies and of court-yards paved with mar- 
 ble and surrounded with elegant corridors, show the influence of 
 Moorish taste. There is not a mean-looking house to be seen, 
 and I have no doubt that Cadiz is the best built city of its size 
 in the world. It lies, white as new-fallen snow, like a cluster 
 of ivory palaces, between sea and sky. Blue and silver are its 
 colors, and, as everybody knows, there can be no more charm- 
 ing contrast. 
 
 I visited both the old and new cathedrals, neither of which 
 id particularly interesting. The latter is unfinished, and might 
 have been a fine edifice had the labor and money expended on 
 its construction been directed by taste. The interior, rich as 
 it is in marbles and sculpture, has a heavy, confused effect. 
 The pillars dividing the nave from the side-aisle' *re enormous 
 composite masses, each one consisting of six Corinthian columns, 
 stuck around and against a central shaft. More satisfactory 
 to me was the Opera-House, which I visited in the evening, 
 and where the dazzling array of dark-eyed Gaditanas put a 
 stop to architectural criticism. The women of Cadiz are noted 
 for their beauty and their graceful gait. Some of them are 
 very beautiful, it is true ; but beauty is not the rule among 
 them. Their gait, however, is the most graceful possible 
 
 n*
 
 39 THS LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 necause it is perfectly free and natural. The commonest serv 
 ing-maid who walks the streets of Cadiz would put to shame t 
 whole score of our mincing and wriggling belles. 
 
 Honest old Blanco prepared me a cup of cho<olate by sun- 
 rise next morning, and accompanied me down to the quay, to 
 embark for Seville. A furious wind was blowing from the 
 south-east, and the large green waves raced and chased one 
 another incessantly over the surface of the bay. I took a 
 heavy craft, which the boatmen pushed along under cover of 
 the pier, until they reached the end, when the sail was dropped 
 in the face of the wind, and away we shot into the watery 
 tumult. The boat rocked and bounced over the ogitated sur- 
 face, running with one gunwale on the waves, and sheets of 
 briny spray broke over me. I felt considerably relieved when 
 I reached the deck of the steamer, but it was then diversion 
 enough to watch those who followed. The crowd of boats 
 pitching tumultuously around the steamer, jostling against each 
 other, their hulls gleaming with wet, as they rose on the beryl- 
 colored waves, striped with long, curded lines of wind-blown 
 foam, would have made a fine subject for the pencil of Achen- 
 bach. 
 
 At last we pushed off, with a crowd of passengers fore and 
 aft, and a pyramid of luggage piled around the smoke-pipe. 
 There was a party of four Englishmen on board, and, on mak- 
 ing their acquaintance, I found one of them to be a friend to 
 some of ray friends Sir John Potter, the progressive ex 
 Mayor of Manchester. The wind being astern, we ran rapidly 
 along the coast, and in two hours entered the mouth of the 
 Guadalquivir. [This name comes from the Arabic wad\ 
 tLkebeer literally, the Great Val'y.] The shores are a dead
 
 8CEXERY 0> THK GUADALQUIVIR. 395 
 
 ilat The right bank is a dreary forest of stunted pines, abound 
 ing with deer and other game ; on the left is the dilapidated 
 town of San Lucar, whence Magellan set sail on his first voy- 
 age around the world. A, mile further is Bonanza, the port 
 of Xeres, where we touched and took on board a fresh lot of 
 passengers. Thenceforth, for four hours, the scenery of the- 
 Guadalquivir had a most distressing sameness. The banks 
 were as flat as a board, with here and there a straggling 
 growth of marshy thickets. Now and then we passed a herds- 
 man's hut, but there were no human beings to be seen, except 
 the peasants who tended the large flocks of sheep and cattle. 
 A sort of breakfast was served in the cabin, but so great was 
 the number of guests that I had much difficulty in getting 
 anything to eat. The waiters were models of calmness and 
 deliberation. 
 
 As we approached Seville, some low hills appeared on the 
 left, near the river. Dazzling white villages were planted at 
 their foot, and all the slopes were covered with olive orchards, 
 while the banks of the stream were bordered with silvery birch 
 trees. This gave the landscape, in spite of the African 
 warmth and brightness of the day, a gray and almost wintry 
 aspect. Soon the graceful Giralda, or famous Tower of 
 Seville, arose in the distance ; but, from the windings of the 
 river, we were half an hour in reaching the landing-place. 
 One sees nothing of the far-famed beauty of Seville, ou 
 approaching it. The boat stops below the Alameda, where 
 the passengers are received by Custom-House officers, who, in 
 my case, did not verify the stories told of them in Cadiz. I 
 gave my carpet-bag to a boy, who conducted me along the hot 
 and dusty banks to the bridge over the Guadalquivir, where
 
 396 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 be turned into the cily. On passing the gate, two loafer lik 
 guards stopped my baggage, notwithstanding it had already 
 been examined. " What I" said I, " do you examine twice oc 
 entering Seville ?" " Yes," answered one ; " twice, and even 
 three times ;" but added in a lower tone, " it depends entirely 
 on yourself" With that he slipped behind me, and let one 
 hand fall beside my pocket. The transfer of a small coin was 
 dexterously made, and I passed on without further stoppage 
 to the Fonda de Madrid. 
 
 Sir John Potter engaged Antonio Bailli, the noted guide of 
 Seville, who professes to have been the cicerone of all distin 
 guished travellers, from Lord Byron and Washington Irving 
 dowu to Owen Jones, and I readily accepted his invitation to 
 join the party. Bailli is recommended by Ford as " fat and 
 good-humored " Fat he certainly is, and very good-humored 
 when speaking of himself, but he has been rather spoiled 
 by popularity, and is much too profuse in his critical remarks 
 on art and architecture. Nevertheless, as my stay in Seville 
 is limited, I have derived no slight advantage from his ser- 
 vices. 
 
 On the first morning I took an early stroll through the 
 streets. The houses are glaringly white, like those of Cadi/ 
 but are smaller and have not the same stately exteriors. The 
 windows are protected by iron gratings, of florid patterns, 
 and, as many of these are painted green, the general effect is 
 pleasing. Almost every door opens upon a patio, or court- 
 yard, paved with black and white marble^ and adorned with 
 flowers and fountains. Many of these remain from the time of 
 the Moors, and are still surrounded by the delicate arches and 
 brilliant tile-work of that period. The populace in the streeta
 
 THE GIRALDA. 391 
 
 are entirely Spanish the jaunty majo in his queer black cap 
 gash, and embroidered jacket, and the nut-brown, dark-eyed 
 damsel, swimming along in her mantilla, and armed with the 
 irresistible fan. 
 
 We went first to the Cathedral, built on the site of the 
 great mosque of Abou Youssuf Yakoub. The tall Giralda 
 beckoned to us over the tops of the intervening buildings, and 
 finally a turn in the street brought us to the ancient Moorish 
 gateway on the northern side. This is an admirable specimen of 
 the horse-shoe arch, and is covered with elaborate tracery. It 
 originally opened into the court, or huram, of the mosque, 
 which still remains, and is shaded by a grove of orange trees. 
 The Giralda, to my eye, is a more perfect tower than the Cam- 
 panile of Florence, or that of San Marco, at Venice, which is 
 evidently an idea borrowed from it. The Moorish structure, 
 with a base of fifty feet square, rises to the height of two hun- 
 dred and fifty feet. It is of a light pink color, and the sides, 
 which are broken here and there by exquisitely proportioned 
 double Saracenic arches, are covered from top to bottom with 
 arabesque tracery, cut in strong relief. Upon this tower, a 
 Spanish architect has placed a tapering spire, one hundred feet 
 high, which fortunately harmonizes with the general design, 
 and gives the crowning grace to the work. 
 
 The Cathedral of Seville may rank as one of the grandest 
 Gothic piles in Europe. The nave lacks but five feet of being 
 as high as that of St Peter's, while the length and breadth of 
 the edifice are on a commensurate scale. The ninety-thre 
 windows of stained glass fill the interior with a soft and richly 
 tinted light, mellower and more gentle than the sombre twi- 
 Ugnt of the Gothic Cathedrals of Europe. The wealth
 
 398 THE LANDS Ot THE SARACE* 
 
 lavished on the smaller chapels and shrines is prodigious, anc 
 the high altar, inclosed within a gilded railing fifty feet high, ia 
 probably the most enormous mass of wood-carving in existence. 
 The Cathedral, in fact, is encumbered with its riches. While 
 they bewilder you as monuments of human labor aid patience, 
 they detract from the grand simplicity of the building. Th 
 great nave, on each side of the transept, is quite blocked up, so 
 that the choir and magnificent royal chapel behind it have 
 almost the effect of detached edifices. 
 
 We returned again this morning, remaining two hours, and 
 succeeded in making a thorough survey, including a number of 
 trashy pictures and barbarously rich shrines. Murillo's 
 " Guardian Angel" and the " Vision of St. Antonio " are th<! 
 only gems. The treasury contains a number of sacred vessels 
 of silver, gold and jewels among other tilings, the keys of 
 Moorish Seville, a cross made of the first gold brought from 
 the New-World by Columbus, and another from that robbed 
 in Mexico by Cortez. The Cathedral won my admiration 
 more and more. The placing of the numerous windows, and 
 their rich coloring, produce the most glorious effects of light in 
 the lofty aisles, and one is constantly finding new vistas, new 
 combinations of pillar, arch and shrine. The building is in 
 itself a treasury of the grandest Goihic pictures. 
 
 Prom the Cathedral we went to the Alcazar (El-Kasr], or 
 I alare of the Moorish Kings. We entered by a long passage, 
 mth round arches on either side, resting on twin pillars, placed 
 at right angles to the line of the arch, as one sees both in 
 Saracenic and Byzantine structures. Finally, old Bailli 
 brought us into a dull, deserted court-yard, where we wsre 
 lorprised by tbe s'ght of an entire Moorish fa9ade, with iU
 
 THE ALCAZAR. 369 
 
 pointed arches, its projecting roof, its rich sculptured ornaments 
 and its illuminations of red, blue, green and gold. It has beea 
 lately restored, and now rivals in freshness and brilliancy any 
 of the rich houses of Damascus. A doorway, entirely too low 
 and mean for the splendor of the walls above it, admitted us into 
 the first court. On each side of the passage are the rooms of 
 the guard and the Moorish nobles. Within, all is pure 
 Saracenic, aud absolutely perfect in its grace and richness. It 
 is the realization of an Oriental dream ; it is the poetry and 
 luxury of the East in tangible forms. Where so much depends 
 on the proportion and harmony of the different parts on those 
 correspondences, the union of which creates that nameless soul 
 of the work, which cannot be expressed in words it is useless 
 to describe details. From first to last the chambers of state ; 
 the fringed arches ; the open tracery, light and frail as the 
 frost-stars crystallized on a window-pane ; the courts, fit to be 
 vestibules to Paradise ; the audience-hall, with its wondrous 
 sculptures, its columns and pavement of marble, and its gilded 
 dome ; the garden, gorgeous with its palm, banana, and 
 orange-trees all were in perfect keeping, all jewels of equal 
 lustre, forming a diadem which still lends a royal dignity to the 
 phantom of Moorish power. 
 
 We then passed into the gardens laid out by the Spanish 
 monarchs trim, mathematical designs, in box aud myrtle, 
 with concealed fountains springing up everywhere unawares 
 in the midst of the paven walks ; yet still made beautiful 
 by the roses aud jessamines that hung in rank clusters over thf 
 marble balustrades, and by the clumps of tall orange trees, 
 bending to earth under the weight of their fruitage. We 
 afterward visited Pilate's House, as it is called a tine Span
 
 400 THE LANDS OF THE SARAC1N. 
 
 ish-Moresco palace, now belonging to the Dnke of Medini 
 Cceli. It is very rich and elegant bat stands in the same 
 relation to the Alcazar as a good copy does to the origins* 
 picture. The grand staircase, nevertheless, is a marvel of tile 
 work, unlike anything else in Seville, and exhibits a genius in 
 r.he invention of elaborate ornamental patterns, which is truly 
 wonderful. A number of workmen were busy in restoring the 
 palace, to fit it for the residence of the young Duke. The 
 Moorish sculptures are reproduced in plaster, which, at least, 
 has a better effect than the fatal whitewash under which the 
 original tints of the Alcazar are hidden. In the courts stand a 
 number of Roman busts Spanish antiquities, and therefore 
 not of great merit singularly out of place in niches sur- 
 rounded by Arabic devices and sentences from the Koran. 
 
 This morning, I climbed the Giralda. The sun had just 
 risen, and the day was fresh and crystal-clear. A little door 
 in the Cathedral, near the foot of the tower, stood open, and 1 
 entered. A rather slovenly Sevillana had just completed her 
 toilet, but two children were still in undress. However, she 
 opened a door in the tower, and I went up without hindrance. 
 The ascent is by easy ramps, and I walked four hundred yards, 
 or nearly a quarter of a mile, before reaching the top of the 
 Moorish part. The panoramic view was superb. To the east 
 and west, the Great Valley made a level line on a far-distant, 
 horizon. There were ranges of hills in the north and south, 
 and those rising near the city, clothed in a gray mantle of olive- 
 trees, were picturesquely crowned with villages. The Guadal- 
 quivir, winding in the most sinuous mazes, had no longer a 
 turbid hue ; he reflected the blue morning sky, and gleamed 
 brightly between his border? of birch and willow Seville
 
 OLD WINES MURILLOS. 401 
 
 iparklcd white and fair under my feet, her painted towers and 
 tiled domes rising thickly out of the mass of buildings. The 
 level sun threw shadows into the numberless courts, permitting 
 the mixture of Spanish and Moorish architecture to be plainly 
 discerned, even at that height. A thin golden vapor softened 
 the features of the landscape, towards the sun, while, on the 
 opposite side, every object stood out in the sharpest and 
 clearest outlines. 
 
 On our way to the Mus6o, Bailli took us to the house of a 
 friend of his, in order that we might taste real Manzanilla 
 wine. This is a pale, straw-colored vintage, produced in the 
 valley of the Guadalquivir. It is flavored with camomile 
 blossoms, and is said to be a fine tonic for weak stomachs 
 The master then produced a dark-red wine, which he declared 
 to be thirty years old. It was almost a syrup in consistence, 
 and tasted more of sarsaparilla than grapes. None of us 
 relished it, except Bailli, who was so inspired by the draught, 
 th&t he sang us two Moorish songs and an Andalusiau catch, 
 full of fun and drollery. 
 
 The Museo contains a great amount of bad pictures, but it 
 also contains twenty-three of Murillo's works, many of them 
 of his best period. To those who have only seen his tender, 
 spiritual "Conceptions" and "Assumptions," his "Vision of 
 St. Francis" in this gallery reveals a mastery of the highei 
 walks of his art, which they would not have anticipated. But 
 it is in his " Cherubs" and his " Infant Christs" that he excels. 
 No one ever painted infantile grace and beauty with so true a 
 pencil. There is but one Velasquez in the collection, and the 
 only thing that interested me, in two halls filled with rubbish, 
 vas a ''Conception" by Mnrillo's mulatto pupil, said by some
 
 402 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN 
 
 to have been his slave. Although an imitation of the great 
 master, it is a picture of much sweetness and beauty. Then 
 te no other work of the artist in existence, and this, as the 
 only production of the kind by a painter of mixed African 
 blood, ought to belong to the Republic of Liberia. 
 
 Among the other guests at the Fonda de Madrid is Mr. 
 Thomas Hobhouse, brother of Byron's friend. We had a 
 pleasant party in the Court this evening, listening to blind 
 Pepe, who sang to his guitar a medley of merry Andalusian 
 refrains. Singing made the old man courageous, and, at the 
 close, he gave us the radical song of Spain, which is now 
 strictly prohibited. The air is charming, but too gay ; one 
 would sooner dance than fight to its measures. It does nol 
 bring the hand to the sword. like the glorious Marseillaise 
 
 Adios, beaatifnl Seville !
 
 SPANISH DILIGENCE LINES. 403 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 JOURNEY IN A SPAKISH DILIGEN3E. 
 
 Spanish Diligence Lines Leaving Seville A, Unlucky Start Alcala of the Bakers- 
 Dinner at Carmona A Dehesa The Mayoral and his Team Ecija Night Journej 
 Cordova The Cathedral-Mosque Moorish Architecture The Sierra Morena A 
 Ratny Journey A Chapter of Accidents Baylen The Fascination of Spain Jaen 
 -The Vega of Granada. 
 
 GBAXADA, November 14, 1862. 
 
 IT is an enviable sensation to feel for the first time that yon 
 are in Granada. No amount of travelling can weaken the 
 romantic interest which clings about this storied place, or take 
 away aught from the freshness of that emotion with which yon 
 first behold it. I sit almost at the foot of the Alhambra, 
 whose walls I can see from my window, quite satisfied for to- 
 day with being here. It has been raining since I arrived, the 
 thunder is crashing overhead, and the mountains are covered 
 with clouds, so I am kept in-doors, with the luxury of knowing 
 that all the wonders of the place are within my reach. And 
 now let me beguile the dull weatner by giving you a sketch of 
 my journey from Seville hither. 
 
 There are three lines of stages from Seville to Madrid, and 
 their competition has reduced the fare to $12, which, for a ride 
 of 350 miles, is remarkably cheap. The trip is usually made 
 in three days and a half. A branch line from Baylen nearly
 
 404 
 
 THE LANDS OF THE SAJUCKH. 
 
 half-way strikes southward to Granada, and as there is nc 
 competition on this part of the road, I was charged $15 for a 
 through seat in the coupe. On account of the lateness of the 
 season, and the limited time at my command, this was prefer 
 able to taking horses and riding across the country froir 
 Seville to Cordova. Accordingly, at an early hour or. 
 Thursday morning last, furnished with a travelling ticket 
 inscribed : "Don Valtar de Talor (myself !), I took leave of 
 my English friends at the Fonda de Madrid, got into an 
 immense, lumbering yellow vehicle, drawn by ten mules, and 
 started, trusting to my good luck and bad Spanish to get safely 
 through. The commencement, however, was unpropitious, and 
 very often a stumble at starting makes the whole journey limp. 
 The near mule in the foremost span was a horse, ridden by our 
 postillion, and nothing could prevent that horse from darting 
 into all sorts of streets and alleys where we had no desire to 
 go. As all mules have implicit faith in horses, of course the 
 rest of the animals followed. We were half an hour in getting 
 out of Seville, and when at last we reached the open road and 
 dashed off at full gallop, one of the mules in the traces fell and 
 was dragged in the dust some twenty or thirty yards before 
 we could stop. My companions in the coup6 were a young 
 Spanish officer and his pretty Andalusian bride, who was mak- 
 ing her first journey from home, and after these mishaps was 
 in a state of constant fear and anxiety. 
 
 The first stage across the valley of the Guadalquivir took 
 as to the town of Alcala, which lies in the lap of the hills 
 above the beautiful little river Guadaira. It is a picturesque 
 spot ; the naked cliffs overhanging the stream have the rich, 
 red hue of cinnabar, and the trees and shrubbery in tlu
 
 DIN.VER AT CAKMONA. 
 
 406 
 
 meadows, and on the hill-sides are ready grouped to tha 
 artist's hand. The town is called Alcala de los Panadorec 
 (of the Bakers) from its hundreds of flour mills and bake- 
 ovens, which supply Seville with those white, fine, delicious 
 twists, of which Spain may be justly proud. They should 
 have been sent to the Exhibition last year, with the Toledo 
 blades and the wooden mosaics. We left the place and its 
 mealy-headed population, and turned eastward into wide, roll- 
 ing tracts, scattered here and there with gnarled olive trees. 
 The soil was loose and sandy, and hedges of aloes lined the 
 road. The country is thinly populated, and very little of it 
 under cultivation. 
 
 About noon we reached Carmona, which was founded by 
 the Romans, as, indeed, were nearly all the towns of Southern 
 Spain. It occupies the crest and northern slope of a high 
 hill, whereon the ancient Boorish castle still stands. The 
 Alcazar, or palace, and the Moorish walls also remain, 
 though in a very ruinous condition. Here we stopped to 
 dinner, for the " Nueva Peninsular," in which I was embarked, 
 has its hotels all along the route, like that of Zurutuza, in 
 Mexico. We were conducted into a small room adjoining the 
 stables, and adorned with colored prints illustrating the 
 history of Don John of Austria. The table-cloths, plates and 
 other appendages were of very ordinary quality, but indispu- 
 tably clean ; we seated ourselves, and presently the dinner 
 appeared. First, a vermicelli pilaff", which I found palatable, 
 then the national oUa, a dish of enormous yellow peas, 
 sprinkled with bits of bacon and flavored with oil ; then three 
 successive courses of chicken, boiled, stewed and roasted, but 
 in every case done to rags, and without a particle of the origi
 
 406 TEE LAXDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 nal flavor. This was the usual style of our ineals on the road, 
 whether breakfast, dinner or supper, except that kid was 
 sometimes substituted for fowl, and that the oil employed, 
 being more or less rancid, gave different flavors to the 
 dishes. A course of melons, grapes or pomegranates wound 
 op the repast, the price of which varied from ten to twelve 
 reals a real being about a half-dime. In Seville, at the 
 Fonda de Madrid, the cooking is really excellent; but furthei 
 in the interior, judging from what I have heard, it is even 
 worse than I have described. 
 
 Continuing our journey, we passed around the southern 
 brow of the hill, under the Moorish battlements. Here a 
 superb view opened to the south and east over the wide Veg-a 
 of Carmona, as far as the mountain chain which separates it 
 from the plain of Granada. The city has for a coat of arms a 
 silver star in an azure field, with the pompous motto : " As 
 Lucifer shines in the morning, so shines Carmoua in Anda- 
 lusia." If it shines at all, it is because it is a city set upon a 
 hill ; for that is the only splendor I could find about the place. 
 The Vega of Carmona is partially cultivated, and now wears a 
 sombre brown hue, from its tracts of ploughed land. 
 
 Cultivation soon ceased, however, and we entered on a 
 dehesa, a boundless plain of waste land, covered with thickets 
 of palmettos. Flocks of goats and sheep, guarded by shep- 
 herds in brown cloaks, wandered here and there, and except 
 their huts and an isolated house, with its group of palm-trees, 
 there was no sign of habitation. The road was a deep, red 
 sand, and our mules toiled along slowly and painfully, urged 
 by the incessant cries of the mayoral, or conductor, and his 
 wozo. As the mayoral's \vhip could oulj reach the second
 
 THE MAYORAL AND HIS TEAM. iOl 
 
 span, the business of the latter was to jump down every lei: 
 minutes, run ahead and belabor the flanks of the foremost 
 mules, uttering at the same time a series of sharp howls, which 
 seemed to strike the poor beasts with quite as much severity 
 as his whip. I defy even a Spanish ear to distinguish the 
 import of these cries, and the great wonder was how they 
 could all come out of one small throat. When it came to a 
 hard pull, they cracked and exploded like volleys of musketry, 
 and flew like hail-stones about the ears of the machos (he- 
 mules). The postillion, having only the care of the foremost 
 span, is a silent man, but be has contracted a habit of sleeping 
 in the saddle, which I mention for the benefit of timid 
 travellers, as it adds to the interest of a journey by night. 
 
 The clouds which had been gathering all day, now settled 
 down upon the plain, and night came on with a dull rain. At 
 eight o'clock we reached the City of Ecija, where we had two 
 hours' halt and supper. It was so dark and rainy that I 
 saw nothing, not even the classic Xenil, the river of Granada, 
 which flows through the city on its way to the Guadalquivir. 
 The night wore slowly away, and while the mozo drowsed on 
 his post, I caught snatches of sleep between his cries. As the 
 landscape began to grow distinct in the gray, cloudy dawn, we 
 saw before us Cordova, with the dark range of the Sierra Mo- 
 rena rising behind it. This city, once the glory of Moorish 
 Spain, the capital of the great Abd-er-Rahman, containing, 
 when in its prime, a million of inhabitants, is now a melancholy 
 wreck. It has not a shadow of the art, science, and taste 
 which then distinguished it, and the only interest it now pos 
 Besses is from these associations, and the despoiled remnant of 
 its renowned Mosque.
 
 408 THK LANDS OF THE SARACEN 
 
 We crossed the Guadalquivir on a fine bridge built on 
 Roman foundations, and drove slowly down the one long 
 rough, crooked street. The diligence stops for an hour, to 
 allow passengers to breakfast, but my first thought was for the 
 Cathedral-mosque, la Mezquita, as it is still called. " It is 
 dosed," said the ragged crowd that congregated about us ; 
 "you cannot get in until eight o'clock." But I remembered 
 that a silver key will open anything in Spain, and taking a 
 inozo as a guide we hurried off as fast as the rough pavements 
 would permit. We had to retrace the whole length of the city, 
 but on reaching the Cathedral, found it open. The exterior is 
 low, and quite plain, though of great extent. A Moorish gate- 
 way admitted me into the original court-yard, or haram, of the 
 mosque, which is planted with orange trees and contains the 
 fountain, for the ablutions of Moslem worshippers, in the centre. 
 The area of the Mosque proper, exclusive of the court-yard, is 
 about 400 by 350 feet. It was built on the plan of the great 
 Mosque of Damascus, about the end of the eighth century 
 Fhe materials including twelve hundred columns of marble 
 jasper and porphyry, from the ruins of Carthage, and the 
 temples of Asia Minor belonged to a Christian basilica, of 
 the Gothic domination, which was built upon the foundations 
 of a Roman temple of Janus ; so that the three great creeds 
 of the world have here at different times had their seat. The 
 Moors considered this mosque as second iu holiness to the 
 Kaaba of Mecca, and made pilgrimages to it from all parts of 
 Moslem Spain and Barbary. Even now, although shorn of 
 much of its glory, it surpasses any Oriental mosque into which 
 I have penetrated, except St. Sophia, which is a Christiai 
 edifice.
 
 THE MOSQUE OF CORDOVA. 409 
 
 All the iiineteen original enhances beautiful horse-shoe 
 arches ae closed, except the central one. I entered by a low 
 door, in one corner of the corridor. A wilderness of columua 
 connected by double arches (one springing above the other, 
 with an opening between), spread their dusky aisles before me 
 in the morning twilight. The eight hundred and fifty shafts 
 of this marble forest formed labyrinths and mazes, which at 
 that early hour appeared boundless, for their long vistas disap- 
 peared in the shadows. Lamps were burning before distant 
 shrines, and a few worshippers were kneeling silently here and 
 there. The sound of my own footsteps, as I wandered through 
 the ranks of pillars, was all that I heard. In the centre of 
 the wood (for such it seemed) rises the choir, a gaudy and 
 tasteless excrescence added by the Christians. Even Charles 
 V., who laid a merciless hand on the Alhambra, reproved the 
 Bishop of Cordova for this barbarous and unnecessary dis- 
 figurement. 
 
 The sacristan lighted lamps in order to show me the Moorish 
 chapels. Nothing but the precious materials of which these 
 exquisite structures are composed could have saved them from 
 the holy hands of the Inquisition, which intentionally destroyed 
 all the Roman antiquities of Cordova. Here the fringed 
 arches, the lace-like filigrees, the wreathed inscriptions, and the 
 domes of pendent stalactites which enchant von in the Alcazar 
 of Seville, are repeated, not in stucco, but in purest marble, 
 while the entrance to the " holy of holies" is probably the most 
 glorious piece of mosaic in the world. The pavement of the 
 interior is deeply worn by the knees of .he Moslem pilgrims, 
 who compassed it seven times, kneeling, as they now do iu the 
 Kaaba. at Mecca. The sides are embroidered with sentences 
 
 A*
 
 il THE LANDS OP THE SARACEN. 
 
 from the Koran, in Cufic characters, and the roof is iu tin 
 form of a fluted shell, of a single piece of pure white marble 
 fifteen feet in diameter. The roof of the vestibule is a wo: 
 derful piece of workmanship, formed of pointed arches, wreathed 
 and twined through each other, like basket-work. No peopl 
 ever wrought poetry into stone so perfectly as the Saracens. 
 In looking on these precious relics of an elegant and refined 
 race, I cannot help feeling a strong regret that their kingdom 
 ever passed into other hands. 
 
 Leaving Cordova, our road followed the Guadalquivir, along 
 the foot of the Sierra Morena, which rose dark and stern, a 
 barrier to the central table-lauds of La Mancha. At Alcolea, 
 we crossed the river on a noble bridge of black marble, out of 
 all keeping with the miserable road. It rained incessantly, 
 and the scenery through which we passed had a wild and 
 gloomy character. Tfie only tree to be seen was the olive, 
 which covered the hills far and near, the profusion of its fruit 
 showing the natural richness of the soil. This part of the 
 road is sometimes infested with robbers, and once, when I saw 
 two individuals waiting for us in a lonely defile, with gun-ba^ 
 rels thrust out from under their black cloaks, I anticipated a 
 recurrence of a former unpleasant experience. But they proved 
 to be members of the guardia civil, and therefore our pro- 
 tectors. 
 
 The ruts and quagmires, made by the rain, retarded our pro- 
 gress, and it was dark when we reached Andujar, fourteen 
 leagues from Cordova. To Baylen, where I was to quit the 
 diligence, and take another coming down from Madrid to 
 Granada, was four leagues further We journeyed on in the 
 dark, iu a pouring rain, up and down hill for some houra
 
 A NU;HT ADVENTURE 411 
 
 when all at once the cries of the mozo ceased, and the diligence 
 came to a dead stop. There was some talk between our con- 
 ductors, and then the mayoral opened the door and invited as 
 to get out. The postillion had fallen asleep, and the mules had 
 taken us into a wrong road. An attempt was made to turn 
 the diligence, but failed, leaving it standing plump against a 
 high bank of mud. We stood, meanwhile, shivering in the 
 cold and wet, and the fair Andalusian shed abundance of tears. 
 Fortunately, Baylen was close at hand, and, after some delay, 
 two men came with lanterns and escorted us to the posada, or 
 inn, where we arrived at midnight. The diligence from Madrid, 
 which was due six hours before, had not made its appearance, 
 and we passed the rest of the night in a cold room, fasting, 
 for the meal was only to be served when the other passengers 
 came. At day-break, finally, a single dish of oily meat was 
 vouchsafed to us, and, as it was now certain that some acci- 
 dent had happened, the passengers to Madrid requested the 
 Administrador to send them on in an extra conveyance. This 
 he refused, and they began to talk about getting up a pronun 
 ciamento, when a messenger arrived with the news that the 
 diligence had broken down at midnight, about two leagues off. 
 Tools were thereupon dispatched, nine hours after the accident 
 happened, and we might hope to be released from our imprison- 
 ment in four or five more. 
 
 Baylen is a wretched place, celebrated for having the first 
 palm-tree which those see who come from Madrid, and for the 
 rictory gained by Castanos over the French forces under 
 Dupont, which occasioned the flight of Joseph Buonaparte 
 from Madrid, and the temporary liberation of Spain from the 
 French yoke. Castanos, who received the title of Duke df
 
 418 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 Baylen, and is compared by the Spaniards to Wellington, died 
 about three months ago. The battle-field I passed in the 
 night ; the palm-tree I found, but it is now a mere stnrnp 
 the leaves having been stripped off to protect the houses of 
 the inhabitants from lightning. Our posada had one of them 
 hung at the window. At last, the diligence came, and at three 
 P.M., when I ought to have been in sight of Granada, I left the 
 forlorn walls of Baylen. My fellow-passengers were a young 
 sprig of the Spanish nobility and three chubby-faced nuns. 
 
 The rest of the journey that afternoon was through a wide, 
 hilly region, entirely bare of trees and habitations, and but 
 partially cultivated. There was something sublime in its very 
 nakedness and loneliness, and I felt attracted to it as I do 
 towards the Desert. In fact, although I have seen little fine 
 scenery since leaving Seville, have had the worst of weather, 
 and no very pleasant travelling experiences, the country has 
 exercised a fascination over me, which I do not quite under- 
 stand. I find myself constantly on the point of making a vow 
 to return again. Much to my regret, night set in before we 
 reached Jaen, the capital of the Moorish kingdom of thai 
 name. We halted for a short time in the large plaza of the 
 town, where the dash of fountains mingled with the sound of 
 the rain, and the black, jagged outline of a mountain over 
 hanging the place was visible through the storm. 
 
 All night we journeyed on through the mountains, some- 
 times splashing through swollen streams, sometimes coming 
 almost to a halt in beds of deep mud. When this morning 
 dawned, we were ascending through wild, stony hills, over 
 grown with shrubbery, and the driver said we were six leagues 
 from Granada. Still on, through a lonely country, with no*
 
 THE VEGA OF GRANADA. 413 
 
 and then a large venta, or country inn, by the road side, and 
 about nine o'clock, as the sky became more clear, I saw in 
 front of us, high up under the clouds, the suow-fields of the 
 Sierra Nevada. An hour afterwards we were riding between 
 gardens, vineyards, and olive orchards, with the magnificent 
 Vega of Granada stretching far away on the right, and the 
 Vermilion Towers of th3 Alhambra crowning the heights 
 before us.
 
 414 XH2 LAXDS OF THE SARACSK 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 GRANADA AND THE ALHAMBRA. 
 
 Mateo Xlmenea, the Younger The Cathedral of Granada A Monkish Miracle Catholic 
 Shrines Military Cherubs The Royal Chapel The Tombs of Ferdinand and Isa- 
 bella Chapel of San Juan de Dios The Albaycin View of the Vega The Generalife 
 The Alhambra Torra de la Vela The Walls and Towers A Visit to Old Mateo 
 The Court of the Fish-pond The Halls of the Alhambra Character of the Architec- 
 ture HaJ of the Abencerrages >SaU of the Two Sisters The Moorish Dynasty !o 
 Spain. 
 
 " Who has not in Granada been. 
 Verily, he has nothing seen." 
 
 Andaluxivn Proverb. 
 
 GRASADA, Wednesday, Nov. 17, 1852. 
 
 IMMEDIATELY on reaching here, I was set npon by an old 
 gentleman who wanted to act as guide, but the mozo of 
 the hotel put into my hand a card inscribed " Don Mateo 
 Ximenez, Guide to the celebrated Washington Irving," and I 
 dismissed the other applicant. The next morning, as the mozo 
 brought me my chocolate, he said ; " Senor, d chico is waiting 
 for you." The " little one " turned out to be the son of old 
 Mateo, "honest Mateo," who still lives up in the Alhambra, 
 but is now rather too old to continue his business, except on 
 great occasions I accepted the young Mateo, who spoke with 
 the greatest enthusiasm of Mr. Irving, avowing that the whole 
 family was devoted to him, in life and death. It was still
 
 THfc CATHEDRAL OF GRANADA. 416 
 
 ruining furiously, and the golden Darro, which roars in 
 front of the hotel, was a swollen brown flood. I don't 
 wonder that he sometimes threatens, as the old couplet says, 
 to bnrst up the Zacatin, and bear it down to his bride, the 
 Xenil. 
 
 Towards noon, the clouds broke away a little, and we sallied 
 out. Passing through the gate and square of Yivarrambla 
 (may not this name come from the Arabic bab er-raml, the 
 "gate of the sand?"), we soon reached the Cathedral. Thia 
 massive structure, which makes a good feature in the distant 
 view of Granada, is not at all imposing, near at hand. The 
 interior is a mixture of Gothic and Roman, glaring with white- 
 wash, and broken, like that of Seville, by a wooden choir and 
 two grand organs, blocking up the nave. Some of the side 
 chapels, nevertheless, are splendid masses of carving and gild- 
 ing. In one of them, there are two full-length portraits of 
 Ferdinand and Isabella, supposed to be by Alonzo Cano. The 
 Cathedral contains some other good pictures by the same 
 master, but all its former treasures were carried off by the 
 French. 
 
 We next went to the Picture Gallery, which is in the Fran- 
 ciscan Convent. There are two small Murillos, much damaged, 
 some tolerable Alonzo Canos, a few common-place pictures 
 by Juan de Sevilla, and a hundred or more by authors whose 
 Dames I did not inquire, for a more hideous collection of trash 
 never met my eye. One of them represents a miracle per- 
 formed by two saints, who cut off the diseased leg of a sick 
 white man, and replace it by the sound leg of a dead negro, 
 whose body is seen lying beside the bed. Judging from the 
 ghastly face of the patient, the operation is rather painful
 
 THE LANDS 07 TBS SARACEN. 
 
 though the story goes that the black leg grew fast, and the 
 man recovered. The picture at least illustrates the absence of 
 "prejudice of color" among the Saints. 
 
 We went into the adjoining Church of Santo Domingo, 
 which has several very rich shrines of marble and gold. A 
 sort of priestly sacristan opened the Church of the Madonna 
 del Rosario a glittering mixture of marble, gold, and looking 
 glasses, which has rather a rich effect. The beautiful yellow 
 and red veined marbles are from the Sierra Nevada. The 
 sacred Madonna a big doll with staring eyes and pink cheeks 
 has a dress of silver, shaped like an extinguisher, and 
 eucrusted with rubies and other precious stones. The utter 
 absence of taste in most Catholic shrines is an extraordinary 
 thing. It seems remarkable that a Church which has produced 
 so many glorious artists should so constantly and grossly vio- 
 late the simplest rules of art. The only shrine which I have 
 seen, which was in keeping with the object adored, is that of 
 the Virgin, at Nazareth, where there is neither picture noi 
 Image, but only vases of fragrant flowers, and perfumed oil in 
 golden lamps, burning before a tablet of spotless marble. 
 
 Among the decorations of the chapel, there are a host of 
 cherubs frescoed on the ceiling, and one of them is represented 
 in the act of firing off a blunderbuss. " Is it true that the 
 angels carry blunderbusses ?" I asked the priest. He shrugged 
 his shoulders with a sort of half-smile, and said nothing. lu 
 the Cathedral, on the plinths of the columns in the outei 
 aisles, are several notices to the effect that " whoever speaks 
 to women, either in the nave or the aisles, thereby puts him 
 self in danger of excommunication." I could not help laugh 
 inar, as I read this monkish and yet most wTtmonk-like statute
 
 THE ROYAL CHAPEL. 417 
 
 4 Oh," said Mateo, " all that was in the despotic timos it ii 
 not so now." 
 
 A deluge of rain put a stop to my sight-seeing until the next 
 morning, when I set out with Mateo to visit the Royal Chapel. 
 A murder had been committed in the night, near the entrance 
 of the Zacatin, and the paving-stones were still red with the 
 blood of the victim. A fundon of some sort was going on in 
 the Chapel, and we went into the sacristy to wait. The priests 
 and choristers were there, changing their robes ; they saluted 
 me good-humoredly, though there was an expression in their 
 faces that plainly said : " a heretic 1" When the service was 
 concluded, I went into the chapel and examined the high altar, 
 with its rude wood-carvings, representing the surrender of 
 Granada. The portraits of Ferdinand and Isabella, Cardinal 
 Ximenez, Gonzalvo of Cordova, and King Boabdil, are very 
 curious. Another tablet represents the baptism of the con- 
 quered Moors. 
 
 In the centre of the chapel stand the monuments erected to 
 Ferdinand and Isabella, and their successors Philip I., and 
 Maria, by Charles V. They are tall catafalques of white 
 marble, superbly sculptured, with the full length effigies of the 
 monarchs upon them. The figures are admirable ; that of 
 Isabella, especially, though the features are settled in the 
 repose of death, expresses all the grand and noble traits which 
 belonged to her character. The sacristan removed the mat- 
 ting from a part of the floor, disclosing an iron grating under- 
 neath. A damp, mouldly smell, significant of death and 
 decay, came up through the opening. He lighted two long 
 waxen tapers, lifted the grating, and I followed him down the 
 omrrow steps into the vault where lie the coffins of the Catho
 
 418 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 lie Sovereigus. They were brought here from the Alhanibra, 
 in 1525. The leaden sarcophagi, containing the bodies of 
 Ferdinand and Isabella, lie, side by side, on stone slabs ; and 
 as 1 stood between the two, resting a hand on each, the sacris- 
 tan placed the tapers in apertures in the stone, at the head 
 and foot. They sleep, as they wished, in their beloved Gra- 
 nada, and no profane hand has ever disturbed the repose of 
 their ashes. 
 
 After visiting the Church of San Jeronimo, founded by Gon- 
 ^alvo of Cordova, I went to the adjoining Church and Hospi 
 tal of San Jnan de Dios. A fat priest, washing his hands in 
 the sacristy, sent a boy to show me the Chapel of San Juah, 
 and the relics. The remains of the Saint rest in a silver chest, 
 standing in the centre of a richly-adorned chapel. Among 
 the relics is a thorn from the crown of Christ, which, as any 
 botanist may see, must have grown on a different plant from 
 the other thorn they show at Seville ; and neither kind 
 is found in Palestine. The true spina christi, the nebbnk, ha.* 
 rery small thorns ; but nothing could be more cruel, as I 
 found when riding through patches of it near Jericho. The 
 boy also showed me a tooth of San Lorenzo, a crooked brown 
 bicuspis, from which I should infer that the saitii, was rather an 
 ill-favored man. The gilded chapel of San Juan is in singular 
 contrast with one of the garments which be wore when living 
 a cowl of plaited reeds, looking like an old fish basket 
 which is kept in a glass case. His portrait is also to be seen 
 a mild and beautiful face, truly that of one who went about 
 doing good. He was a sort of Spanish John Howard, and" 
 ieserved canonization, if anybody ever did. 
 
 I ascended the street of the Darro to the Albaycin, whi.'h
 
 OF THE VBQA. 41 9 
 
 we entered by one of the ancient gates. This suburb is stifl 
 surrounded by the original fortifications, and undermined by 
 the capacious cisterns of the Moors. It looks down on Gra- 
 nada ; and from the crumbling parapets there are superb views 
 over the city, the Vega, and its inclosing mountains. The 
 Alhambra rose opposite, against the dark-red and purple back- 
 ground of the Sierra Nevada, and a canopy of heavy rain- 
 clouds rested on all the heights. A fitful gleam of sunshine 
 now and then broke through and wandered over the plain, 
 touching up white towers and olive groves and reaches of the 
 winding Xenil, with a brilliancy which suggested the splendor 
 of the whole picture, if once thus restored to its proper light. 
 I could see Santa Fe in the distance, toward Loxa ; nearer, 
 and more eastward, the Sierra de Elvira, of a deep violet 
 color, with the woods of the Soto de Roma, the Duke of Wel- 
 lington's estate, at its base ; and beyond it the Mountain of 
 Parapanda, the weather-guage of Granada, still covered with 
 clouds. There is an old Granadian proverb which says : 
 " When Parapanda wears his bonnet, it will rain whether God 
 wills it or no." From the chapel of San Miguel, above the 
 Albaycin, there is a very striking view of the deep gorge of 
 the Darro, at one's feet, with the gardens and white walls of 
 the Generalife rising beyond, and the Silla del Moro and the 
 Mountain of the Sun towering above it. The long, irregular 
 lines of the Alhambra, with the huge red towers rising here and 
 there, reminded me somewhat of a distant view of Karnak ; 
 and, like Karnak, the Alhambra is picturesque from whatevei 
 point it is viewed. 
 
 We descended through wastes of cactus to the Darro, in 
 whose turbid stream a group of men were washing for gold 7
 
 *20 THK LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 watched one of them, as he twirled his bowl in precisely 
 the California style, but got nothing for his paius. Matec 
 says that they often make a dollar a day, each. Passing nndei 
 the Tower of Comares and along the battlements of the 
 Alhambra, we climbed up to the Generalife. This charming 
 villa is still in good preservation, though its exquisite filigree 
 and scroll-work have been greatly injured by whitewash. 
 The elegant colonnades surround gardens rich in roses, 
 myrtles and cypresses, and the fountains that lulled the Moor- 
 ish Kings in their summer idleness still pour their fertilizing 
 streams. In one of the rooms is a small and bad portrait gal- 
 lery, containing a supposed portrait of Boabdil. It is a mild, 
 amiable face, but wholly lacks strength of character. 
 
 To-day I devoted to the Alhambra. The storm, which, as 
 the people say, has not been equalled for several years, showed 
 no signs of breaking up, and in the midst of a driving shower 
 I ascended to the Vermilion Towers, which are supposed to 
 be of Phrenician origin. They stand on the extremity of a 
 long, narrow ledge, which stretches out like an arm from the 
 hill of the Alhambra. The paseo lies between, and is shaded 
 by beautiful elms, which the Moors planted. 
 
 I entered the Alhambra by the Gate of Justice, which is a 
 fine specimen of Moorish architecture, though of common red 
 brick and mortar. It is singular what a grace the horse-shoe 
 arch gives to the most heavy and himbering mass of masonry. 
 The round arches of the Christian edifices of Granada seem 
 tame and inelegant, in comparison. Over the arch of the ves- 
 tibule of this gate is the colossal hand, and over the inner 
 entrance the key, celebrated in the tales of Washington Irving 
 and the superstitions of the people. I first ascended the Torre
 
 WALLS AND TOWERS OF THE ALHAMBRA. 42] 
 
 de la Vela, where the Christian flag was first planted on the 
 2d of January, 1492. The view of the Yega and City of Gra 
 nada was even grander than from the Albaycin. Parapanda 
 was still bonneted in clouds, but patches of blue sky began t< 
 'pen above the mountains of Loxa. A little boy accompanied 
 us, to see that I did not pull the bell, the sound of which 
 would call together all the troops in the city. While we 
 stood there, the funeral procession of the man murdered two 
 nights before came up the street of Gomerez, and passed 
 around the hill under the Vermilion Towers. 
 
 I made the circuit of the walls before entering the Palace 
 In the Place of the Cisterns, I stopped to take a drink of the 
 cool water of the Darro, which is brought thither by subterra 
 nean channels from the hills. Then, passing the ostentatious 
 pile commenced by Charles V., but which was never finished, 
 and never will be, nor ought to be, we walked along the 
 southern ramparts to the Tower of the Seven Floors, amid the 
 ruins of which I discerned the top of the arch by which the 
 unfortunate Boabdil quitted Granada, and which was thence- 
 forth closed for ever. In the Tower of the Infantas, a number 
 of workmen were busy restoring the interior, which has beer 
 cruelly damaged. The brilliant azulejo, or tile-work, the deli- 
 cate arches and filigree sculpture of the walls, still attest its 
 former elegance, and give some color to the tradition that it 
 was the residence of the Moorish Princesses. 
 
 As we passed through the little village which still exists 
 among the ruins of the fortress, Mateo invited me to step in 
 and see his father, the genuine " honest Mateo," immortalized 
 in the " Tales of the Alhambra." The old man has taken up 
 the trade of silk-weaving, and had a number of gay-colored
 
 122 THJS LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 ribbons on his loom. He is more than sixty years old and 
 now quite gray-headed, but has the same simple manners, the 
 same honest face that attracted his temporary master. He 
 spoke with great enthusiasm of Mr. Irving, and brought out 
 irom a place of safety the "Alhambra" and the "Chronicles 
 of the Conquest," which he has carefully preserved. He then 
 produced an Andalusian sash, the work of his own hands, 
 which he insisted on binding around my waist, to see how it 
 would look. I must next take off my coat and hat, and put on 
 his Sunday jacket and jaunty sombrero. "Par Dios !" he 
 exclaimed: "que buen mozo ! Senor, you are a legitimate 
 Andalusian 1" After this, of course, 1 could do no less thau 
 buy the sash. "You must show it to Washington Irving," 
 said he, " and tell him it was made by Mateo's own hands ;" 
 which I promised. I must then go into the kitchen, and eat a 
 pomegranate from his garden a glorious pomegranate, with 
 kernels of crimson, and so full of blood that you could not 
 touch them but it trickled through your fingers. El Marques, 
 a sprightly dog, and a great slate-colored cat. took possession 
 of my legs, and begged for a share of every mouthful I took, 
 while old Mateo sat beside me, rejoicing in the flavor of a 
 Gibraltar cigar which I gave him. But my time was precious, 
 and so 1 let the " Son of the Alhambra " go back to his loom, 
 and set out for the Palace of the Moorish Kings. 
 
 This palace is so hidden behind the ambitious shell of that 
 of Charles V. that I was at a loss where it could be. I 
 thought I had compassed the hill, and yet had seen no indica- 
 tions of the renowned magnificence of the Alhambra. But a 
 little door in a blank wall ushered me into a true Moorish 
 realm, the Coart of the Fishpond, or of the Myrtles, as it is
 
 THE HALL OF LIONS. 423 
 
 ometimes called. Here I saw again the slender pillars, the 
 fringed and embroidered arches, and the perforated, lace-like 
 tracery of the fairy corridors. Here, hedges of roses and myr 
 ties still bloomed around the ancient tank, wherein Aundreds of 
 gold-fish disported. The noises of the hill do not penetrate 
 here, and the solitary porter who admitted me went back 
 to his post, and suffered me to wander at will through the 
 enchanted halls. 
 
 I passed out of this court by an opposite door, and saw, 
 through the vistas of marble pillars and the wonderful fret- 
 work which seems a thing of air rather than of earth, the 
 Fountain of the Lions. Thence I entered in succession the 
 Hall of the Abencerrages, the Hall of the Two Sisters, the 
 apartments of the Sultanas, the Mosque, and the Hall of the 
 Ambassadors. These places all that is left of the renowned 
 palace are now well kept, and carefully guarded. Restora- 
 tions are going on, here and there, and the place is scrupu- 
 lously watched, that no foreign Vandal may further injure 
 what the native Goths have done their best to destroy. The 
 rubbish has been cleared away ; the rents in the walls have 
 been filled up, and, for the first time since it passed into 
 Spanish hands, there seems a hope that the Alhambra will be 
 allowed to stand. What has been already destroyed we can 
 only partially conjecture ; but no one sees what remains with- 
 out completing the picture in his own imagination, and placing 
 it among the most perfect and marvellous creations of human 
 genius. 
 
 Nothing can exceed the richness of invention which, La thii 
 series of halls, corridors, and courts, never repeats the same orna- 
 ments but, from the siin^kst primitive forms and colors, produces
 
 124 THE LANDS Of THE SARACEN. 
 
 a thousand combinations, not one of which i? m discord with th< 
 grand design. Jt is useless to attempt a detailed description of 
 this architecture ; and it is so unlike anything else in the world 
 that, like Karnak and Baalbec, those only know the Alhambra 
 who see it. When you can weave stone, and hang your halls 
 with marble tapestry, you may rival it. It is nothing to me 
 that these ornaments are stucco ; to sculpture them in marble 
 is only the work of the hands. Their great excellence is in the 
 design, which, like all great things, suggests even more than it 
 gives. If I could create all that the Court of Lions suggested 
 to me for its completion, it would fulfil the dream of King 
 Sheddad, and surpass the palaces of the Moslem Paradise. 
 
 The pavilions of the Court of Lions, and the halls which 
 open into it, on either side, approach the nearest to their origi- 
 nal perfection. The floors are marble, the wainscoting 01 
 painted tiles, the walls of embroidery, still gleaming with the 
 softened lustre of their oriyiual tints, and the lofty conical 
 domes seem to be huge sparry crystalizations, hung with drop- 
 ping stalactites, rather than any work of the human hand 
 Each of these domes is composed of five thousand separate 
 pieces, and the pendent prismatic blocks, colored and gilded, 
 gradually resolve themselves, as you gaze, into the most intri- 
 cate and elegant designs. But you must study long ere you 
 have won all the secret of their beauty. To comprehend them, 
 one should spend a whole day, lying on his hack, under each 
 one. Mateo spread his cloak for me in the fountain in the 
 Hall of the Abencerrages, over the blood-stains made by the 
 decapitation of those gallant dm-fs, and I lay half an hoot 
 looking upward . ind this is what I made out of the dome 
 From its centra pinnacle hung the chalice of a flower will
 
 THK 1UBVELLOUS DOMES. 425 
 
 leathery petals, like the "crape myrtle" of our Southern States 
 Outside of this, branched downward the eight rays of a large 
 star, whose points touched the base of the dome ; yet the star 
 was itself composed of flowers, while between its rays and 
 around its points fell a shower of blossoms, shells, and sparr* 
 drops. From the base of the dome hung a gorgeous pattern 
 of lace, with a fringe of bugles, projecting into eight points so 
 as to form a star of drapery, hanging from the points of the 
 flowery star in the dome. The spaces between the angles were 
 filled with masses of stalactites, dropping one below the other, 
 till they tapered into the plain square sides of the hall. 
 
 In the Hall of the Two Sisters, I lay likewise for a coiy 
 siderable time, resolving its misty glories into shape. The 
 dome was still more suggestive of flowers. The highest and 
 central piece was a deep trumpet-flower, whose mouth was 
 cleft into eight petals. It hung in the centre of a superb 
 lotus-cup, the leaves of which were exquisitely veined and 
 chased. Still further below swung a mass of mimosa blossoms, 
 intermixed with pods and lance-like leaves, and around the 
 base of the dome opened the bells of sixteen gorgeous tulips. 
 These pictures may not be very intelligible, but I know not 
 how else to paint the effect of this fairy architecture. 
 
 In Granada, as in Seville and Cordova, one's sympathies are 
 wholly with the Moors. The few mutilated traces which still 
 remain of their power, taste, and refinement, surpass any of the 
 monuments erected by the race which conquered them. The 
 Moorish Dynasty in Spain was truly, as Irving observes, a 
 splendid exotic, doomed never to take a lasting root in the soil 
 It was choked to death by the native weeds ; and, in place of 
 ,amfe richly cultivated and teeming with plenty, \vo now hav
 
 426 rflK LANDS OF THE SAKA.CEN 
 
 barren and almost depopulated wastes in place of education, 
 industry, and the cultivation of the arts and sciences, ae 
 enslaved, ignorant and degenerate race. Andalusia would b 
 far more prosperous at this day, bad she remained in Moslem 
 ban is. True, she would not have received that Faith which 
 is yet destined to be the redemption of the world, but the doc- 
 trines of Mahomet are more acceptable to God, and more 
 beneficial to Man than those of that Inquisition, which, in 
 Spain alone, has shed ten times as much Christian blood as all 
 the Moslem races together for the last six centuries. It is not 
 from a mere romantic interest that I lament the fate of Boab- 
 dil, and the extinction of his dynasty. Had he been a king 
 worthy to reign in those wonderful halls, he never would have 
 left them. Had he perished there, fighting to the last, he 
 would have been freed from forty years of weary exile and ac 
 obscure death. Well did Charles V. observe, when speaking 
 of him : " Better a tomb in the Alhambra than a palace in the 
 /ilpujar.as 1"
 
 CHANGE Ot WEATHKI. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 THE BRIDLE-ROADS OF ANDALUSIA. 
 
 ea.her Napoleon and his Horses Departure from Granada My Guide, 
 arcia His Domestic Troubles The Tragedy of the Umbrella The Vow agalnts 
 Aguardiente Crassing the Vega The Sierra Nevada The Baths of Alhama " Wof 
 is Me, Alhama I" The Valley of the River Veles Veles Malaga The Coast Road 
 The Fisherman and his Donkey Malaga Summer Scenery The Story of Don Pedro, 
 without Fear and without Care The Field of Monda A Lonely Venta. 
 
 VKNTA DK VILLALOH, November 90, 1852. 
 
 THE clouds broke away before I had been two hoars in the 
 Alhambra, and the sunshine fell broad and warm into its 
 courts. They must be roofed with blue sky, in order to give 
 the fall impression of their brightness and beaaty. Matec 
 procured me a bottle of vino rando, and we drank it together 
 in the Court of Lions. Six hours had passed away before I 
 knew it, and I reluctantly prepared to leave. The clouds by 
 this time had disappeared ; the Vega slept in brilliant sunshine, 
 and the peaks of the Sierra Nevada shone white and colt' 
 against the sky. 
 
 On reaching the hotel, I found a little man, nicknamed 
 Napoleon, awaiting me. He was desirous to furnish me with 
 horses, and, having a prophetic knowledge of the weather, 
 promised me a bright sky as far as Gibraltar. " T furnish a I' 
 the senors," said he ; "they know me, and never complain of
 
 428 THE LANDS OF THE SAKACEN. 
 
 me or iny horses ;" but, by way of security, on making the bar 
 gain, I threatened to put up a card in the hotel at Gibraltar 
 warning all travellers against him, in case I was not satisfied 
 My contract was for two horses and a guide, who were to be 
 ready at sunrise the next morning. Napoleon was as good as 
 his word ; and before I had finished an early cup of chocolate, 
 there was a little black Audalusiau stallion awaiting me. The 
 alforjas, or saddle-bags, of the guide were strengthened by 
 stock of cold provisions, the leathern bota hanging beside it 
 was filled with ripe Granada wine ; and now behold me ambling 
 over the Vega, accoutred in a gay Andalusian jacket, a sash 
 woven by Mateo Ximeues, and one of those bandboxy som- 
 breros, which I at first thought so ungainly, but now cousidei 
 quite picturesque and elegant. 
 
 My guide, a short but sinewy and well-knit son of the moun- 
 tains, named Jos6 Garcia, set off at a canter down the banks 
 of the Darro. " Don't ride so fast I" cried Napoleon, whc 
 watched our setting out, from the door of the fonda ; but 
 Jose was already out of hearing. This guide is a companion 
 to my liking. Although he is only twenty-seven, be has been 
 for a number of years a correo, or mail-rider, and a guide for 
 travelling parties. His olive complexion is made still darker 
 oy exposure to the sun and wind, and his coal-black eyes shine 
 with Southern heat and fire. He has one of those rare mouths 
 which are born with a broad smile in each corner, and whici. 
 seem to laugh even in the midst of grief. We had not been 
 two hours together, before I knew his history from beginning 
 to end. He had already been married eight years, and his 
 only trouble was a debt of twenty-four dollars which the illnese 
 of his wife had caused him. This rnoirey was owing to the
 
 THE TRAGEDY OF THE UMBRELLA. 42S 
 
 pawnbroker, who kept his best clothes in pledge until he could 
 pay it. "Senor," said he, "it I had ten million dollars, 1 
 would rather give them all away than have a sick wife." He 
 had a brother in Puerto Principe, Cuba, who sent over mone) 
 enough to pay the rent of the house, but he found that child 
 ren were a great expense. " It is most astonishing," he said, 
 " how much children can eat. From morning till night, the 
 bread is never out of their mouths." 
 
 Jose has recently been travelling with some Spaniards, one 
 of whom made him pay two dollars for an umbrella which was 
 lost on the road. This umbrella is a thorn in his side. At 
 every venta where we stop, the story is repeated, and he is not 
 sparing of his maledictions. The ghost of that umbrella is 
 continually raised, and it will be a long time before he can shut 
 it. " One reason why I like to travel with foreign Senors,'< 
 said he to me, " is, that when I lose anything, they never make 
 me pay for it." " For all that," I answered, " take care you 
 don't lose my umbrella : it cost three dollars." Since then, 
 nothing can exceed Jose's attention to that article. He is at 
 his wit's end how to secure it best. It appears sometimes 
 before, sometimes behind him, lashed to the saddle with innu- 
 merable cords ; now he sticks it into the alforja, now carries 
 it in his hand, and I verily believe that he sleeps with it in his 
 arms. Every evening, as he tells his story to the muleteers, 
 around the kitchen fire, he always winds up by triumphantly 
 appealing to me with : "Well, Senor, have I lost yowr umbrella 
 yet ?" 
 
 Our bargain is that I shall feed him on the way, and as we 
 travel in the primitive style of the country, we always sit dowc 
 together to the same dish. To his supervision, the olla i&
 
 130 THE LANDS OF THE SAUACK.N 
 
 often indebted for an additional flavor, and no " thorough-bred ' 
 gentleman could behave at table with more ease and propriety 
 He is as moderate as a Bedouin in his wants, and never touches 
 the burning aguardiente which the muleteers are accustomed 
 to drink. I asked him the reason of this. " I drink wine 
 Seiior," he replied, " because that, you know, is like meat and 
 bread ; but I have made a vow never to drink aguardiente 
 again. Two of us got drunk on it, four or five years ago, in 
 Granada, and we quarrelled. My comrade drew his knife and 
 stabbed me here, in the left shoulder I was furious and cut 
 him across the breast. We both went to the hospital I for 
 three months and he for six and he died in a few days aftei 
 getting out. It cost my poor father many a thousand reals ; 
 and when I was able to go to work, I vowed before the Virgiu 
 that I would never touch aguardiente again." 
 
 For the first league, our road lay over the rich Vega of 
 Granada, but gradually became wilder and more waste. Pass- 
 ing the long, desert ridge, known as the " Last Sigh of the 
 Moor," we struck across a region of low hills. The road was 
 very deep, from the recent rains, and studded, at short inter- 
 vals, by rude crosses, erected to persons who had been mur- 
 dered. Jose took a grim delight in giving me the history of 
 each. Beyond the village of Lamala, which lies with its salt- 
 pans in a basin of the hills, we ascended the mountain ridge 
 which forms the southern boundary of the Vega. Granada, 
 nearly twenty miles distant, was still visible. The Alhambra 
 was dwindled to a speck, and I took my last view of it and the 
 magnificent landscape which lies spread out before it. The 
 Bierra Nevada, rising to the height of 13,000 feet above the 
 sea, was perfectly free from clouds, and the whole range wai
 
 THE GORGE OF ALHAMA. 4O1 
 
 visible at one glauce. All its chasms were filled with siiow 
 and for nearly half-way down its sides there was not a spoeh 
 of any other color. Its summits were almost wholly devoid 
 of shadow, and their notched and jagged outlines rested 
 flatly against the sky, like ivory inlaid on a table of l.apis- 
 lazuli. 
 
 From these waste hills, we descended into the valley ot 
 Cacia, whose poplar-fringed river had been so swollen by the 
 rains that the correo from Malaga had only succeeded in pass- 
 ing it that morning. We forded it without accident, and, 
 crossing a loftier and bleaker range, came down into the valley 
 of the Marchan. High on a cliff over the stream stood 
 Alhama, my resting-place for the night. The natural warm 
 baths, on account of which this spot was so beloved by the 
 Moors, are still resorted to in the summer. They lie in the 
 bosom of a deep and rugged gorge, half a mile further down 
 the river. The town occupies the crest of a narrow promon- 
 tory, bounded, on all sides but one, by tremendous precipices. 
 It is one of the most picturesque spots imaginable, and 
 reminded me to continue the comparison between Syria and 
 Andalusia, which I find so striking of the gorge of the Bar- 
 rada, near Damascus. Alhama is now a poor, insignificant 
 town, only visited by artists and muleteers. The population 
 wear long brown cloaks and slouched hats, like the natives of 
 La Mancha. 
 
 I found tolerable quarters in a house on the plaza, and took 
 the remaining hour of daylight to view the town. The people 
 looked at me with curiosity, and some boys, walking on the 
 edge of the tajo, or precipice, threw over stones that I might 
 me how deep it was. The rock, in some places, quite over
 
 432 THE iiAXDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 hung the 'ed of the Marchan, which half-girdles its base. The 
 close scru iny to which I was subjected by the crowd in the 
 plaza called to mind all I had heard of Spanish spies and rob 
 bers. At the venta, I was well treated, but received such an 
 exorbitant bill in the morning that I was ready to exclaim, 
 with King Boabdil, " Woe is me, Alhama 1" Ou comparing 
 notes with Jose, I found that he had been obliged to pay, in 
 addition, for what he received a discovery which so exaspe- 
 rated that worthy that he folded his hands, bowed his head, 
 made three kisses in the air, and cried out : "I swear before 
 the Virgin that I will never again take a traveller to that 
 inn." 
 
 We left Alhama an hour before daybreak, for we had 8 
 rough journey of more than forty miles before us. The bridle 
 path was barely visible in the darkness, but we continued 
 ascending to a height of probably 5,000 feet above the sea, 
 and thus met the sunrise half-way. Crossing the llano of Ace 
 faraya, we reached a tremendous natural portal in the moun 
 tains, from whence, as from a door, we looked down on all the 
 country lying between us and the sea. The valley of the 
 River Velez, winding among the hills, pointed out the course 
 of our road. On the left towered over us the barren Sierra 
 Tejeda, an isolated group of peaks, about 8,000 feet in height. 
 For miles, the road was a rocky ladder, which we scrambled 
 down on foot, leading our horses. The vegetation gradually 
 became of a warmer and more luxuriant cast ; the southern 
 slopes were planted with the vine that produces the fainoui 
 Malaga raisins, and the orange groves in the sunny depths of 
 the valleys were as yellow as autumnal beeches, with tbeii 
 enormous loads of fruit. As the bells of Veloz Malaga wew
 
 THK INN AT VELK2 MALAGA. 
 
 ringing uoou, we emerged from the mountains, near the moath 
 of the river, and rode into the town to breakfast. 
 
 We halted at a queer old inn, more like a Turkish khan 
 than a Christian hostlery. It was kept by a fat landlady, who 
 made us an olla of kid and garlic, which, with some coarse 
 bread and tte red Malaga wine, soon took off the sharp edge 
 of our mouctaiu appetites. While I was washing my hauds 
 at a well in the court-yard, the mozo noticed the pilgrim-seal 
 of Jerusalem, which is stamped indelibly on my left arm. His 
 admiration and reverence were so great that he. called the fat 
 landlady, who, on learning that it had been made in Jerusalem, 
 md that I had visited the Holy Sepulchre, summoned her chil- 
 dren to see it. " Here, my children 1" she said ; " cross your 
 selves, kneel down, and kiss this holy seal ; for, as long as you 
 live, you may never see the like of it again." Thus I, a Pro- 
 testant heretic, became a Catholic shrine. The children knelt 
 and kissed my arm with touching simplicity ; and the seal will 
 heuceforth be more sacred to me than ever. 
 
 The remaining twenty miles or more of the road to Malaga 
 follow the line of the coast, passing headlands crowned by the 
 atulayas, or watch-towers, of the Moors. It is a new road, and 
 practicable for carriages, so that, for Spain, it may be con 
 sidered an important achievement. The late rains have, how 
 ever, already undermined it in a number of places. Here, a& 
 among the mountains, we met crowds of muleteers, all of whom 
 greeted me with: "Vaya usted con Dios, caballerof" ("May 
 you go with God, cavalier 1") By this time, all my forgotten 
 Spanish had come back again, and a little experience of the 
 simple ways of the people made me quite at home among them. 
 In almost every instance, I was treated precisely as a Spaniard 
 
 19
 
 434 THE ULXDS OK THE bAKACKN 
 
 would have been, and less annoyed by the curiosity of the 
 natives than I have been in Germany, and even America 
 
 We were still two leagues from Malaga, at sunset. The 
 fishermen along the coast were hauling in their nets, and wo 
 soon began to overtake companies of them, carrying their fish 
 to the city on donkeys. One stout, strapping fellow, with 
 flesh as hard and yellow as a sturgeon's, was seated sideways 
 on a very small donkey, between two immense panniers of fish 
 As he trotted before us, shouting, and slapping the flanks of 
 the sturdy little beast, Jose and I began to laugh, whereupon 
 the fellow broke out into the following monologue, addressed 
 to the donkey : "Who laughs at this burrico ( . Who say- 
 not fine gold from head to foot ? What is it that he can't do I 
 If there was a mountain ever so high, he would gallop over it 
 If there was a river ever so deep, he would swim through it 
 If he could but speak, I might send him to market alone wit I) 
 the fish, and not a chavo of the money would he spend on the 
 way home. Who says he can't go as far as that limping 
 horse ? Arrrre, burrico ! punate ar-r-r-r-r-e-e !" 
 
 We reached Malaga, at last, our horses sorely fagged. At 
 the Fonda de la Alameda, a new and very elegant hotel, 1 
 found a bath and a good dinner, both welcome things to a tired 
 traveller. The winter of Malaga is like spring in other lands 
 and on that account it is much visited by invalids, especially 
 English. It is a lively commercial town of 'about 80,000 
 inhabitants, and, if the present scheme of railroad comraunica 
 tion with Madrid is carried out, must continue to increase in 
 size and importance. A number of manufacturing establishment! 
 have lately been started, and in this department it bids fair to 
 rival Barcelona. The harbor is small, but good, and the
 
 LEAVING MALAGA. 436 
 
 Country aroarid rich in all the productions of temperate and 
 even tropical climates. The city contains little to interest the 
 tourist. I visited the Cathedral, an immense unfinished mass, 
 without a particle of architectural taste outwardly, though the 
 interior has a fine effect from its large dimensions. 
 
 At noon to-day, we were again in the saddle, and took the 
 road to the Baths of Caratraca. The tall factory chimneys of 
 Malaga, vomiting forth streams of black smoke, marred tht 
 serenity of the sky ; but the distant view of the city is very 
 fine. The broad Vega, watered by the Guadaljorce, is rich and 
 well cultivated, and now rejoices in the verdure of spring. 
 T'iie meadows are clothed with fresh grass, butter-cups and 
 uai-irs are in biossom, and larks sing in the olive-trees. Now 
 and then, we passed a casa del campo, with its front half buried 
 in orange-trees, over which towered two or three sentinel 
 palms. After two leagues o f this delightful travel, the coun- 
 try became more hilly, ana the groups of mountains which 
 inclosed us assumed the :i?ost picturesque and enchanting 
 forms. The soft haze in which the distant peaks were bathed, 
 the lovely violet shadows filling up their chasms and gorges, 
 and the fresh meadows, vineyards, and olive groves below, 
 made the landscape one of the most beautiful I have seen in 
 Spain 
 
 As we were trotting along through the palmetto thickets, 
 Jose asked me if I should not like to hear an Andalusian story. 
 " Nothing would please me better," I replied. " Ride close 
 beside me, then," said he, " that you may understand every 
 word of it." I complied, and he gave me the following, jast 
 as 1 repeat it : " There was once a very rich man, who hoc 
 thousands of cattle in the Sierra Nevada, and hundred* of
 
 436 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN 
 
 houses iu the city. Well : this man put a plate, with his nanx 
 ou it, on the door of the great house in which he lived, and 
 the name was this : Don Pedro, without Fear aud without 
 Care. Now, when the King was making his paseo, he hap^ 
 (tened to ride by this house in his carriage, and saw the plate 
 on the door. ' Read me the name on that plate !' said he to 
 his officer. Then the officer read the name : Don Pedro, with- 
 out Fear and without Care. ' I will see whether Don Pedro 
 is without Fear aud without Care,' said the King. The next 
 day came a messenger to the house, and, when he saw Don 
 Pedro, said he to him ; ' Don Pedro, without Fear and without 
 Care, the King wants you !' ' What does the King want with 
 me ?' said Don Pedro. ' He sends you four questions which 
 you must answer within four days, or he will have you shot ; 
 ind the questions are : How can the Sierra Nevada be cleared 
 rf snow ? How can the sea be made smaller ? How many 
 arrobas does the nuon weigh ? And : How many leagues 
 from here to the Land of Heavenly Glory ?' Then Don Pedro 
 without Fear aud without Care began to sweat from fright, 
 and knew not what he should do. He called some of his arrie- 
 ros and loaded twenty mules with money, and went up into the 
 Sierra Nevada, where his herdsm^j tended his flocks ; for, as 
 I said, he had many thousand cattle. ' God keep you, my 
 master 1' said the chief herdsman, who was young, and Ituon 
 <nozo, and had as good a head as ever was set on two shoulders. 
 'Anda, hombre? said Don Pedro, ' I am a dead man ;' and so he 
 told the herdsman all that the King had said. ' Oh, is that 
 all ?' said the knowing mozo. ' I can get you out of tin 
 scrape. Let me go and answer the questions in your name, m) 1 
 master !' 'Ah, you fool 1 what can you do ?' said Don Pedw
 
 DON I'KDKU WITMOfl FKAK AND WITHOUT CARE. 43f 
 
 nithout Fear and without Care, throwing himself upon the 
 earth, and ready to die. 
 
 " But, nevertheless, the herdsman dressed himself up as a 
 cabalkro, weut clown to the city, aud, on the fourth day, pre- 
 sented himself at the King's palace. ' What do you want ? 
 said the officers. ' I am Don Pedro without Fear aud without 
 Care, come to answer the questions which the King sent to me. 
 'Well,' said the King, when he was brought before him, 'let 
 me hear your answers, or I will have you shot this day. 1 
 1 Your Majesty,' said the herdsman, ' I think I can do it. If 
 you w ere to set a million of children to playing among the 
 snow or the Sierra Nevada, they would soon clear it all away ; 
 aud ii you were to dig a ditch as wide and as deep as all 
 Spain, you would make the sea that much smaller.' ' Bat,' 
 said tiie King, ' that makes only two questions ; there are two 
 more yet.' ' I think I can answer those, also,' said the herds- 
 man : ' the moon contains four quarters, and therefore weighs 
 only oue arroba ; aud as for the last question, it is not even a 
 single league to the Land of Heavenly Glory for, if your 
 Majesty were to die after breakfast, you would get there before 
 you had an appetite for dinner.' ' Well done 1' said the King ; 
 and he then made him Count, and Marquez, and I don't know 
 how many other titles. In the meantime, Don Pedro without 
 Fear and without Care had died of his fright ; and, as he left 
 no family, the herdsman took possession of all his estates, and, 
 until the day of his death, was called Don Pedro without Feal 
 and without Care " 
 
 I write, sitting by the grated window of this lonely inn, 
 looking out on the meadows of the Gimdaljorce. The chain 
 tf mountains which rises to the \VM of Malaga is purpled by
 
 138 THfi LANDS OF 1HE SARACEN. 
 
 the light of the setting sun, and the houses and Castle of Cai 
 taiua hang on its side, in full view. Further to the right, I sec 
 the smoke of Momla, where one of the greatest battles of anti- 
 quity was fought tli at which overthrew the sons of 1'onipey 
 and gave the Roman Empire to Caesar. The rnozo of tht 
 venta is busy, preparing my kid and rice, and Jose is at hii 
 elbow, gently suggesting ingredients which may give the dish 
 a richer flavor. The landscape is softened by the hush of 
 coming evening ; a few birds are still twittering among the 
 bushes, and the half-moon grows whiter and clearer in mid- 
 heaven. The people about me are humble, but appear h< nest 
 and peaceful, and nothing indicates that I am in the wi'd Ser- 
 rania df Ronda, the country of robbers, ccntrab* ndislis, and
 
 ORANGE VALLEYS 489 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 THE MOUNTAINS OF RONDA. 
 
 Orange Val!?ys Climbing the Mountains Jos6's Hospitality El Burgo The Gate 01 
 the Wind Tie Cliff and Cascades of Ronda The Mountain Region Traces of th 
 Moors Haunts of Robbers A Stormy Ride The Inn at Gaucin Bad News- -A 
 Boyish Auxiliary Descent from the Mountains The Ford of the Guadiaro Oui 
 Pears Relieved The Cork Woods Ride from San Roque to Gibraltar Parting witt 
 Jose Travelling in Spain Conclusion. 
 
 GIBRALTAR, Thursday, November 25, 1862. 
 
 I PASSED an uncomfortable night at the Venta de Villalou, 
 lying upon a bag stuffed with equal quantities of wool and 
 fleas. Starting before dawn, we followed a path which led 
 into the mountains, where herdsmen and boys were taking out 
 their sheep and goats to pasture ; then it descended into the 
 valley of a stream, bordered with rich bottom-lands. I never 
 saw the orange in a more nourishing state. We passed several 
 orchards of trees thirty feet high, and every bough and twig 
 BO completely laden with fruit, that the foliage was hardly to 
 be seen. 
 
 At the Veuta del Vicario, we found a number of soldiers 
 just setting out for Rouda. They appeared to be escorting a 
 convoy of goods, for there wen: twenty or thirty laden mules 
 gathered at the door. We now ascended a most difficult and 
 Btony path, winding through bleak wastes of gray rock, till we
 
 440 THE LANDS OF THE ^ 
 
 reached a lofty pass in the mountain range The wind swep* 
 through the narrow gateway with a force that almost unhorsed 
 as. From the other side, a sublime but most desolate land- 
 scape opened to my view. Opposite, at ten miles' distance 
 rose a lofty ridge of naked rock, overhung with clouds. Tht 
 country between was a chaotic jumble of stony hills, separated 
 by deep chasms, with just a green patch here and there, to 
 show that it was not entirely forsaken by man. Nevertheless 
 as we descended into it, we found valleys with vineyards and 
 olive groves, which were invisible from above. As we were both 
 getting hungry, Jose stopped at a ventorillo and ordered two 
 eups of wine, for which he insisted on paying. " If I had ah 
 many horses as my master, Napoleon," said he, " I would 
 regale the Senors whenever I travelled with them. I wou'd 
 have puros, and sweetmeats, with plenty of Malaga or Yalde 
 penas in the bota, and they should never complain of theu 
 fare." Part of our road was studded with gray cork-trees, at 
 a distance hardly to be distinguished from olives, and Jos-e di.*- 
 mounted to gather the mast, which was as sweet and palatable 
 as chestnuts, with very little of the bitter querciue flavor. At 
 eleven o'clock, we reached El Bnrgo, so called, probably, fr.im 
 its ancient Moorish fortress. It is a poor, starved vilh.^e, 
 built on a barren hill, over a stream which is still spataed 
 by a lofty Moorish bridge ot a single arch. 
 
 The remaining three leagues to Rouda were exceedingly 
 rcagh aad difficult Climbing a barren ascent of nearly a 
 league in length, we reached the Puerto del 'Viento, jr Gate of 
 the Wind, through which drove such a current that we were 
 obliged to dismount ; and even then it required all my strength 
 to move against it. The peaks around, far and near, faced
 
 THE CHASM OF RONDA. 441 
 
 rith precipitous cliffs, wore the most savage and foihidding 
 aspect : in fact, this region is almost a counterpart of the 
 wilderness lying between Jerusalem and the Dead Sea. Very 
 soon, we touched the skirt of a cloud, and were enveloped ir 
 masses of chill, whirling vapor, through which we travelled for 
 three or four miles to a similar gate on the western side of the 
 chain. Descending again, we emerged into a clearer atmo- 
 sphere, and saw below us a wide extent of mountain country, 
 but of a more fertile and cheerful character. Olive orchards 
 and wheat-fields now appeared ; and, at four o'clock, we rode 
 into the streets of Ronda. 
 
 No town can surpass this in the grandeur and picturesque- 
 ness of its position It is built on the edge of a broad shelf 
 of the mountains, which falls away in a sheer precipice of from 
 six to eight hundred feet in height, and, from the windows of 
 many of the houses you can look down the dizzy abyss. This 
 shelf, again, is divided in the centre by a tremendous chasm, 
 three hundred feet wide, and from four to six hundred feet in 
 depth, in the bed of which roars the Guadalvin, boiling in foam- 
 ing whirlpools or leaping in sparkling cascades, till it reaches the 
 valley below. The town lies on both sides of the chasm, which 
 is spanned by a stone bridge of a single arch, with abutments 
 nearly four hundred feet in height. The view of this wonder- 
 ful cleft, cither from above or below, is one of the finest of its 
 kind in the world. Ronda is as far superior to Tivoli, as Tivol 
 is to a Dutch village, on the dead levels of Holland. The 
 panorama which it commands is on the grandest scale. The 
 valley below is a garden of fruit and vines ; bold yet cultivated 
 hills succeed, and in the distance rise the lofty summits of 
 another chain of the Serrania de Ronda. Were these sublime 
 
 1Q*
 
 442 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN 
 
 Miffs, these charming cascades of the Guadalvin, and this daring 
 bridge, in Italy instead of in Spain, they would be sketched 
 and painted every day in the year ; but I have yet to kno 
 *-he a good picture of Ronda may be found 
 
 In the bottom of the chasm are a number of corn-mills aa 
 old as the time of the Moors. The water, gushing out from 
 the arches of one, drives the wheel of that below, so that a 
 single race supplies them all. I descended by a very steep zig 
 zag path nearly to the bottom. On a little point or promon- 
 tory overhanging the black depths, there is a Moorish gateway 
 still standing. The sunset threw a lovely glow over the brown 
 cliffs and the airy town above ; but they were far grander when 
 the cascades glittered in the moonlight, and the gulf out of 
 which they leap was lost in profound shadow. The window 
 of my bed-room hung over the chasm. 
 
 Ronda was wrapped in fog, when Jose awoke me on the 
 morning of the 22d. As we had but about twenty-four miles to 
 ride that day, we did not leave until sunrise. We rode across 
 the bridge, through the old town and down the hill, passing 
 the triple lines of the Moorish walls by the original gateways. 
 The road, stony and rugged beyond measure, now took to the 
 mountains. From the opposite height, there was a fine view 
 of the town, perched like an eagle's nest on the verge of its 
 tremendous cliffs ; but a cm tain of rain soon fell before it, and 
 the dense dark clouds settled around us, and Oiled up the 
 gorges on either hand. Hour after hour, we toiled along the 
 alippery paths, scaling the high ridges by rocky ladders, up 
 which our horses climbed with the greatest difficulty. The 
 scenery, whenever I could obtain a misty glimpse of it, wai 
 ablime. Lofty mountain ridges rose on either hand ; bleak
 
 TBAVKLUN IX A STORM. 443 
 
 jagged summits of naked rock pierced the clouds, and the deej; 
 chasms which separated them sank far below us, dark and 
 indistinct through the rain. Sometimes I caught sight of a 
 little hamlet, hanging on some almost inaccessible ledge, the 
 home of the lawless, semi-Moorish mountaineers who inhabit 
 this wild region. The faces of those we met exhibited marked 
 traces of their Moslem ancestry, especially in the almond- 
 shaped eye and the dusky olive complexion. Their dialect 
 retains many Oriental forms of expression, and I was not a 
 little surprised at finding the Arabic "eiwa" (yes) in genera! 
 use, instead of the Spanish "'." 
 
 About eleven o'clock, we reached the rude village of Ata- 
 jate, where we procured a very good breakfast of kid, eggs, 
 and white Ronda wine. The wind and rain increased, but I 
 had no time to lose, as every hour swelled the mountain floods 
 and made the journey more difficult. This district is in the 
 worst repute of any in Spain ; it is a very nest of robbers and 
 contrabandistas. At the vcnta in Atajate, they urged us tc 
 take a guard, but my valiant Jose declared that he had never 
 taken one, and yet was never robbed ; so I trusted to his good 
 <uck. The weather, however, was our best protection. In 
 such a driving rain, we could bid defiance to the flint locks of 
 their escopettes, if, indeed, any could be found, so fond of theii 
 trade, as to ply it in a storm 
 
 " Wherein the cub-drawn bear would crouch, 
 The lion and the belly-pinched wolf 
 Kefcp their furs dry." 
 
 Nevertheless, I noticed that each of the few convoys of lader 
 mules which we met, had one or more of the guardia. civil
 
 444 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 accompanying it. Besides these, the only persons abroad were 
 some wild-looking individuals, armed to the teeth, and muffled 
 iu long cloaks, towards whom, as they passed, Jose would give 
 his head a slight toss, and whisper to me: "more cottraban- 
 Jistas." 
 
 We were soon in a condition to defy the weather. The rain 
 i>eat furiously in our faces, especially when threading the 
 wind-blown passes between the higher peaks. I raised my 
 umbrella as a defence, but the first blast snapped it in twain. 
 The mountain-sides were veined with rills, roaring downward 
 into the hollows, and smaller rills soon began to trickle down 
 my own sides. During the last part of our way, the patli wa< 
 notched along precipitous steeps, where the storm was so thick 
 that we could see nothing either above or below. It was like 
 riding along the outer edge of the world. When once you are 
 thoroughly wet, it is a great satisfaction to know that you can 
 be no wetter ; and so Jose and I went forward in the best 
 possible humor, finding so much diversion in our plight that 
 the dreary leagues were considerably shortened. 
 
 At the venta of Gaucin, where we stopped, the people 
 received us kindly. The house consisted of one room stable, 
 kitchen, and dining-room all in one. There was a small apart- 
 ment in a windy loft, where a bed (much too short) was pre 
 pared for me. A fire of dry heather was made in the wide 
 fire-place, and the ruddy flames, with a change of clothing and 
 a draught of the amber vintage of Estepona, soon thawed out 
 the chill of the journey. But I received news which caused 
 H3 u great deal of anxiety. The River Guadiaro was so high 
 that nobody could cross, and two forlorn muleteers had been 
 waiting eight days at tV- inn, for the waters to subside. Aug
 
 A BOYISH Al'XIUARY. 445 
 
 mented by the rain which had falleu, and which seemed tc 
 increase as night came on, how could I hope to cross it on the 
 morrow ? Ill two days, the India steamer would be at Gibral- 
 tar ; my passage was already taken, and I must be there. Tht 
 matter was discussed for some time ; it was pronounced imp >c 
 sible to travel by the usual road, but the landlord knew a path 
 among the hills which led to a ferry on the Guadiaro. when 
 there was a boat, and from thence we could make our way to 
 San Roque, which is in sight of Gibraltar. He demanded 
 rather a large fee for accompanying me, but there was nothing 
 else to be done. Jose and I sat down in great tribulation to 
 our accustomed olla, but neither of us could do justice to it 
 and the greater part gladdened the landlord's two boys beau 
 tiful little imps, with faces like Murillo's cherubs. 
 
 Nevertheless, I passed rather a merry evening, chatting with 
 some of the villagers over a brazier of coals ; and one of the 
 aforesaid boys, who, although only eight years old, already 
 performed the duties of mozo, lighted me to ray loft. When 
 he had put down the lamp, he tried the door, and asked me : 
 "Have you the key?" "No," said I, "I don't want one ; 1 
 am not afraid." " But," he rejoined, " perhaps you may get 
 afraid in the night ; and if you do, strike on this part of the 
 wall (suiting the action to the word) /sleep on that side." 
 I willingly promised to call him to my aid, if I should get 
 alarmed. I slept but little, for the wind was howling around 
 the tiles over my head, and I was busy with plans for con- 
 structing rafts and swimming currents with a rope around my 
 waiut. Finally, I found a little oblivion, but it seemed that 1 
 bad scarcely closed my eyes, when Jose pushed open the door 
 'Thanks be to God, senor 1" said lie, "it begins to dawn
 
 446 THE LANDS OF THE SARACE}? 
 
 and the sky is clear : we shall certainly get tc Gibraltat 
 p-day." 
 
 The landlord was ready, so we took some bread and a bas- 
 ket of olives, and set out at once. Leaving Gaucin, we com- 
 menced descending the mountain staircase by which the 
 Serrania of Ronda is scaled, on the side towards Gibraltar. 
 'The road," says Mr. Ford. " seems made by the Evil One in 
 a hanging garden of Eden." After four miles of frightfully 
 rugged descent, we reached an orange grove on the banks of 
 the Xenar, and then took a wild path leading along the hills 
 on the right of the stream. We overtook a few muleteers, 
 who were tempted out by the fine weather, and before long the 
 correo, or mail-rider from Rouda to San Roque, joined iih. 
 4.fter eight miles more of toilsome travel we reached the val- 
 ley of the Guadiaro. The river was not more than twenty 
 yards wide, flowing with a deep, strong current, between high 
 banks. Two ropes were stretched across, and a large, clumsy 
 boat was moored to the shore. We called to the ferrymen, 
 but they hesitated, saying that nobody had yet been able to 
 cross. However, we all got in, with our horses, and two of 
 the men, with much reluctance, drew us over. The current 
 vas very powerful, although the river had fallen a littk 
 during the night, but we reached ihe opposite bank without 
 accident 
 
 We had still another river, the Guargante, to pass, but 
 ire were cheered by some peasants whom we met, with the 
 news that the ferry-boat had resumed operations. After this 
 3urrent lay behind us, and there was now nothing but firm 
 land all the way to Gibraltar, Jose declared with much 
 earnestness that he was qui*.e as glad, for my sake, as if some
 
 THE CORK-WOODS. 447 
 
 body bad given him a million of dollars Oar horses, too 
 seemed to feel that something had been achieved, and showec 
 sc:h a fresh spirit that we loosened the reins and let them gai 
 lop to their hearts' content over the green meadows. Th< 
 mountains were now behind us, and the Moorish castle of 
 Gaucin crested a peak blue with the distance. Over hills 
 covered with broom and heather in blossom, and through hol- 
 lows grown with oleander, arbutus and the mastic shrub, we 
 rode to the cork-wood forests of San Roque, the sporting- 
 ground of Gibraltar officers. The barking of dogs, the crack 
 ing of whips, and now and then a distant halloo, announced 
 that a hunt was in progress, and soon we came upon a company 
 of thirty or forty horsemen, in caps, white gloves and top-boots, 
 scattered along the crest of a hill. I had no desire to stop 
 and witness the sport, for the Mediterranean now lay before 
 me, and the huge gray mass of "The Rock" loomed in the 
 distance. 
 
 At San Roque, which occupies the summit of a conical hill, 
 about half-way between Gibraltar and Algeciras, the landlord 
 left an, and immediately started on his return. Having now 
 exchanged the rugged bridle-paths of Ronda for a smooth 
 carriage-road, Jose and I dashed on at full gallop, to the end 
 of our journey. We were both bespattered with mud 
 from head to foot, and our jackets and sombreros had lost 
 something of their spruce air. We met a great many ruddy, 
 cleanly-shaven Englishmen, who reined up on one side to let us 
 pass, with a look of wonder at our Andalusian impudence 
 Nothing diverted Jose more than to see one of these English- 
 men rising in his stirrups, as he went by on a trot. " Look, 
 look, Senor !" he exclaimed ; "did you ever see the like?
 
 448 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEN. 
 
 and tLen broke into a fresh explosion of laughter Passing 
 the Spanish Lines, which stretch across the neck of the sandy 
 little peninsula, connecting Gibraltar with the main land, we 
 rode under the terrible batteries which snarl at Spain from 
 this side of the Rock. Row after row of enormous gun? 
 bristle the walls, or look out from the galleries hewn in the sides 
 of inaccessible cliffs An artificial moat is cut along the base of 
 the Rock, and a simple bridge-road leads into the fortress and 
 town. After giving up my passport I was allowed to enter, 
 Jos6 having already obtained a permit from the Spanish authori- 
 ties. 
 
 I clattered up the long street of the town to the Club 
 House, where I found a company of English friends. In the 
 evening, Jos6 made his appearance, to settle our accounts and 
 take his leave of me. While scrambling down the rocky stair- 
 way of Gaucin, Jos6 had said to me : " Look you, Senor, I 
 am very fond of English beer, and if I get you to Gibraltar 
 to-day you must give me a glass of it." When, therefore, he 
 came in the evening, his eyes sparkled at the sight of a bottle 
 of Alsop's Ale, and a handful of good Gibraltar cigars 
 "Ah, Senor," said he, after our books were squared, and lie 
 had pocketed his gratificadon, " I am sorry we are going to 
 part ; for we are good friends, are we not, Senor ?" " Yes, 
 Jos6," said I ; " if I ever come to Granada again, I shall take 
 no other guide than Jos6 Garcia ; and I will have you for a 
 longer journey than this. We shall go over all Spain together, 
 miamigo!" "May God grant it!" responded Jos6, crossing 
 himself ; " and now, Senor, I must go. I shall travel back to 
 Granada, muy triste, Senor, muy triste" The faithful fellow's 
 eyes were full of tears, and, as he lifted my hand twice to his
 
 TRAVELLING IN SPAIN. 449 
 
 lips, some warm drops fell upon it. God bless his honest heart, 
 wherever he goes ! 
 
 And now a word as to travelling in Spain, wbicb is not 
 attended with half the difficulties and annoyances I had been 
 led to expect. My experience, of course, is limited to the 
 provinces of Andalusia, but my route included some of the 
 roughest roads and most dangerous robber districts in the 
 Peninsula. The people with whom I came in contact were 
 invariably friendly and obliging, and I was dealt with much 
 more honestly than I should have been in Italy. With every 
 disposition to serve yon, there is nothing like servility among 
 the Spaniards. The native dignity which characterizes theii 
 demeanor prepossesses me very strongly in their favor. There 
 is but one dialect of courtesy, and the muleteers and common 
 peasants address each other with the same grave respect as the 
 Dons and Grandees. My friend Jose was a model of good- 
 breeding. 
 
 I had little trouble either with passport-officers or custom- 
 houses. My passport, in fact, was never once demanded, 
 although I took the precaution to have it vised in ail the large 
 cities. In Seville and Malaga, it was signed by the American 
 Consuls, without the usual fee ot two dollars almost the only 
 instances which have come under my observation. The regula- 
 tions of the American Consular System, which gives the Con- 
 suls no salary, but permits them, instead, to get their pay out 
 of travellers, is a disgrace to our government. It amounts, in 
 effect, to a direct tax on travel, and falls heavily on the hun- 
 dreds of young men of limited means, who fcanually visit 
 Europe for the purpose of completing their education. Every 
 American citizen who travels in Italy pays a passport tax of
 
 450 THE LANDS OF THE SARACEIS. 
 
 ten dollars. In all the ports of the Mediterranean, there is an 
 American Vice-Consul, who does not even get the postage paid 
 on his dispatches, and to whom the advent of a traveller is of 
 course a welcome sight. Misled by a false notion of economy, om 
 government is fast becoming proverbial for its meanness. If 
 those of our own citizens who represent us abroad only worked 
 as they are paid, and if the foreigners who act as Vice-Consuls 
 without, pay did not derive some petty trading advantages 
 *roin their position, we should be almost without protection. 
 
 With my departure from Spain closes the record of my 
 journey in the Lands of the Saracen ; for, although I after 
 wards beheld more perfect types of Saracenic Art on the banks 
 of the Jumna and the Ganges, they grew up under the great 
 Empire of the descendants of Tamerlane, and were the crea- 
 tions of artists foreign to the soil. It would, no doubt, be 
 interesting to contrast the remains of Oriental civilization and 
 refinement, as they still exist at the extreme eastern and 
 western limits of the Moslem sway, and to show how that Art, 
 which had its birth in the capitals of the Caliphs Damascus 
 and Baghdad attained its most perfect development in Spain 
 and India ; but my visit to the latter country connects itself 
 naturally with my voyage to China, Loo-Choo, and Japan, 
 forming a separate and distinct field of travel. 
 
 On the 27th of November, the Overland Mail Steamer 
 arrived at Gibraltar, and I embarked in her for Alexandria, 
 entering upon another year of even more varied, strange, and 
 adventurous experiences, than that which had closed. I an?
 
 CONCLUSION, 451 
 
 almost afraid to ask those patient readers, who have accomp* 
 nicd me thus far. to travel with me through another volume ; 
 Irat next to the pleasure of seeing the world, comes the plea 
 sure of telling of it, and I most needs finish my story.
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES 
 
 RELATED BY HIMSELF 
 
 A STORY OF AMERICAN LIFE 
 
 BAYARD TAYLOR 
 
 AUTHOR'S REVISED EDITION
 
 \ 
 
 Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1864, by 
 
 GKORGB P. PUTNAM, 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Southern District of New York. 
 Also entered at Stationer's Hall, London. 
 
 Copyright, 1892, by 
 MARIE TAYLOR.
 
 TO JAMES LORIMER GRAHAM, JR., ESQ., 
 NEW YORK. 
 
 MY DEAR GRAHAM, I owe it to your kindness that 
 the mechanical labor of putting this book into words has 
 been so greatly reduced as almost to become a pleasure. 
 Hence you were much in my thoughts while I wrote, and I 
 do not ask your permission to associate your name with the 
 completed work. 
 
 I have found, from experience, that whatever the pre- 
 liminary explanations an author may choose to give, they 
 are practically useless. Those persons who insist against 
 my own express declaration that " Hannah Thurston " 
 was intended as a picture of the " Reformers " of this 
 country, will be sure to make the discovery that this book 
 represents the literary guild. Those, also, who imagine 
 that they recognized the author in Maxwell Woodbury, will 
 not fail to recognize him in John Godfrey, although there 
 is no resemblance between the two characters. Finally, 
 those sensitive readers who protest against any represen- 
 tation of "American Life," which is not an unmitigated 
 glorification of the same, will repeat their dissatisfaction, 
 and insist that a single work should contain every feature 
 of that complex national being, which a thousand volume* 
 could not exhaust
 
 IT DEDICATION. 
 
 I will only say (to you, who will believe me) of this 
 book, that, like its predecessor, it is the result of observa- 
 tion. Not what ought to be, or might be, is the propel 
 province of fiction, but what is. And so, throwing upon 
 John Godfrey's head all the consequences of this declara 
 tion, ] send him forth to try new fortunes. 
 
 Yours always. 
 
 BAY A Kb 
 
 CuxAJtCKOFT, September, 1864.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. M 
 
 IH WHICH, AFTER THE VISIT OF NEIGHBOR NILB8, MT CHILD- 
 HOOD SUDDENLY TERMINATES 1 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 DESCRIBING MT INTRODUCTION INTO DR. DYMOND's BOARD- 
 IMG-SCHOOL 16 
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 
 IH WHICH I BEGIN TO LOOK FORWARD SI 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 CONTAINING FEATS IN THK CELLAR AND CONVERSATIONS 
 
 UPON THE ROOF 48 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 WHICH BRINGS A STERNER CHANGE IN MT FORTUNES . . 68 
 
 CHAPTER VL 
 
 IF WHICH I DISCOVER A NEW RELATIVE . 76 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 IN WHICH UNCLE AND AUNT WOOLLEY TAKB CHARGE OF ME 86 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 DESCRIBING CERTAIN INCIDENTS OF MT LIFE (N READING 99 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 IN WHICH I OUGHT TO BB A SHEEP, BUT PROVK TO BE A 
 
 OAT . tlC
 
 vi CONTENTS. 
 
 Mi 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 CONCERNING MT ESTABLISHMENT IN UPPER SAMARIA . . 126 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 CONTAINING BRATTON'S PARTY AND THE EPISODE OF TUB 
 
 LIME-KILN 188 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 S WHICH LOVE AND LITERATURE STIMULATE EACH OTHER 167 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 OJ WHICH I DECLARE, DECIDE, AND VENTURE . . . .167 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 IN WHICH I GO TO MARKET, BUT CANNOT SELL MY WARES 17S 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 CONCERNING MY ENTRANCE INTO MRS. VERY's BOARDING- 
 HOUSE, AND VARIOUS OTHER MATTERS 192 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 DESCRIBING MR. WINCH'S RECONCILIATION BALL, AND ITS 
 
 TWO FORTUNATE CONSEQUENCES . .... 202 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 WHICH " CONDENSES THE MISCELLANEOUS " OF A TEAR . . 216 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 IN WHICH I AGAIN BEHOLD AMANDA 226 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 RELATING HOW 1 CAME INTO POSSESSION OF MY INHERITANCE 242 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 IN WHICH 1 DINE WITH MR. CLARENDON AND MAKE THE AC- 
 QUAINTANCE OF MR. BRANDAGEE 254 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 IH WHICH I ATTEND MRS. YORKTON'S RECEPTIOW . . . 269 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 N WHICH I ENTER OENTKEL SOCIETY AND MEET MY RELA- 
 TIVES 384
 
 CONTENTS. vil 
 
 PMi 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 DESCRIBING MY INTERVIEW WITH MARY MAI.ONET . . 297 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 A DINNER-PARTY AT DELMONICO'S ... . . 306 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 CONTAINING, AMONG OTHER THINGS, MY VISIT TO THE ICH- 
 NEUMON 81* 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 IK WHICH I TALK WITH TWO GIRLS AT A VERT SOCIABLE 
 
 PARTY 882 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 WHICH. SHOWS THAT THERE WAS SOMETHING MORE . . 848 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 WHICH GIVES AN ACCOUNT OF A FIRE, AND WHAT FOLLOWED IT 366 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 IN WHICH PENROSE FLINGS DOWN THK GLOVE AND I PICK 
 
 IT UP 869 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 WHICH BRINGS A THUNDERBOLT ... . 881 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 IN WHICH I BEGIN TO GO DOWNWARDS 898 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 CONCERNING MARY MALONEY's TROUBLE, AND WHAT I DID TO 
 
 REMOVE IT 406 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 WHICH SHOWS WHAT I BECAME . . ... 417 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 IS WHICH I HEAR FOOTSTEPS 480 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 IN WHICH I HEKT> OOOn ADVICE, M\KK A DISCOVERT, A1fl> 
 
 RETURN TO MRS. VERT . . 448
 
 TO! CONTENTS. 
 
 MM 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 WHICH BRINGS THE SYMPHONY TO AN END, BUT LEAVES ME 
 WITH A HOPE 7 . 454 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVH. 
 
 WHICH BRINGS MY FORTUNE AT LAST 46 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 OP WHICH JANE HKRRY 18 THE HEROIN K .... 47 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 IM WHICH I RECEIVE AN UNEXPECTED LETTER FROM UNCLE 
 
 WOOLLKY 49] 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 OOHOLCTBIOB 50$
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES; 
 
 RELATED BY HIMSELF. 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 IN WHICH, AFTER THE VISIT OF NEIGHBOR NILE8, Ml 
 CHILDHOOD SUDDENLY TERMINATES. 
 
 I WAS sitting at the front window, buried, chin-deep, in 
 the perusal of " Sandford and Merton." when I heard the 
 latch of the gate click. Looking up, I saw that it was only 
 Neighbor Niles. coining, as usual, in her sun-bonnet, with 
 her bare arms wrapped in her apron, for a chat with 
 mother. I therefore resumed my reading, for Neighbor 
 Niles always burst into the house without knocking, and 
 mother was sure to know who it was by the manner in 
 which the door opened. I had gotten as far into the book 
 as the building of the Robinson-Crusoe hut, and one half 
 of my mir.d speculated, as I read, whether a similar hut 
 might not be constructed in our garden, in the corner 
 between the snowball-bush and Muley's stable. Bob Sim- 
 mons would help me, I was sure ; only it was scarcely pos 
 sible to finish it before winter, and then we could n't live 
 in it without a fireplace and a chimney. 
 
 Mother was hard at work, making me a new jacket of 
 gray satinet, lined with black chintz. My reading was in- 
 terrupted by the necessity of jumping up every ten minutes, 
 jerking off my old coat and trying on the new one, - 
 sometimes the body without the sleeves, sometimes one of 
 1
 
 2 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 the sleeves alone. Somehow it would n't fit at the shoul- 
 ders, and the front halves, instead of lying smoothly upon 
 my breast as they should have done, continually turned and 
 flew back against my arms, as if I had been running at full 
 speed. A tailor would have done the work better, it can't 
 be denied, but mother could not afford that. " You can 
 keep it buttoned, Johnny dear," she would say, " and then 
 I think it '11 look very nice." 
 
 Presently the door burst open, and there was Neighbor 
 Niles, voice and figure all at once, loud, hearty, and bus- 
 tling. Always hurried to " within an inch of her life," 
 always working " like six yoke of oxen," (as she was ac- 
 customed to say,) she inveterately gossiped in the midst 
 of her labor, and jumped up in sudden spirts of work when 
 she might have rested. We knew her well and liked her. 
 I believe, indeed, she was generally liked in the neighbor- 
 hood ; but when some of the farmers, deceived by her own 
 chatter, spoke of her as " a smart, doing woman," their 
 wives would remark, with a slight toss of the head, " Them 
 that talks the most does n't always do the most" 
 
 OB this occasion, her voice entered the room, as nearly as 
 I can recollect, in the following style : 
 
 " Good mornin', Neighbor Godfrey ! ' Well, Johnny, 
 how 's he ? Still a-readin' ? He '11 be gittin' too much in 
 that head o* his'n. Jist put my bakin' into th' oven, six 
 punkin-pies, ten dried-apple, and eight loaves o' bread, 
 besides a pan o' rusk. If I had nothin' else to do but 
 bake, 't would be enough for one woman : things goes in 
 our house. Got the jacket most done ? Might ha' saved 
 a little stuff if you 'd ha' cut that left arm more eater- 
 cornered, 't would ha' been full long, I guess, and there 
 a'n't no nap, o' no account, on satinet. Jane Koffmann, 
 she was over at Readin' last week, and got some for her 
 boys, a fippenny-bit a yard cheaper 'n this. Don't know, 
 though, as it '11 wear so well. Laws ! are you sewin' witb 
 silk instead o' patent throad ? "
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 8 
 
 " I find it saves me work," said my mother, as Neighbor 
 Niles popped into the nearest chair, drew her hands from 
 under her apron, leaned over, and picked up a spool from 
 the lap-board. " Patent thread soon wears out at the 
 elbows and shoulders, and then there are rips, you know 
 Besides, the color don't hold, and the seams soon look 
 shabby." 
 
 I resumed my reading, while our visitor exhausted the 
 small budget of gossip which had accumulated since her 
 last visit, two days before. Her words fell upon my ear? 
 mechanically, but failed to make any impression upon my 
 mind, which was wholly fixed upon the book. After a while, 
 however, my mother called to me, 
 
 " Johnny, I think there 's some clearing up to do in the 
 garden." 
 
 I knew what that meant. Mother wished to have some 
 talk with Neighbor Niles, which I was not to hear. Many 
 a time had I been sent into the garden, on the pretence of 
 " clearing up things," when I knew, and mother alM) knew, 
 that the beds were weeded, the alleys clean scraped, the 
 rubbish gathered together and thrown into the little stable- 
 yard, and all other work done which a strong inventive 
 faculty could suggest It was a delicate way of getting me 
 out of the room. 
 
 I laid down my book with a sigh, but brightened up as 
 the idea occurred to me that I might now, at once, select 
 the site of my possible Crusoe hut, and take an inventory 
 of the material available for its construction. As I paused 
 on the oblong strip of turf, spread like a rug before the 
 garden-door, and glanced in at the back-window, I saw that 
 mother had already dropped her sewing, and that she and 
 Neighbor Niles had put their heads together, in a strictly 
 literal sense, for a private consultation. 
 
 The garden was a long, narrow plot of ground, running 
 back to the stable of our cow. and the adjoining yard, which 
 she was obliged to share with two we 11 -grown and voracious
 
 4 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 pigs. I walked along the main alley, peering into the bed* 
 right and left for something to kk clear up," in order to 
 satisfy my conscience before commencing my castle- or 
 rather hut-building ; but I found nothing more serious than 
 lluee dry stalks of seed-radishes, which I pulled up and 
 'flung over the fence. Then I walked straight to the snow- 
 ball-bush. I remember pacing off the length and breadth 
 of the snug, grassy corner behind it, and discovering, to my 
 grief, that, although there was room for a hut big enough 
 for Bob and myself to sit in, it would be impossible to walk 
 about, much less swing a cat by the tail. In fact, we 
 should have to take as model another small edifice, which, 
 on the other side of the bush, already disturbed the need- 
 ful solitude. Moreover, not a hand's-breadth of board 
 or a stick of loose timber was to be found. " If I were 
 only in Charley Rand's place ! " I thought. . His father had 
 a piece of woodland in which you might lose your way 
 for as much as a quarter of an hour at a time, with enough 
 of dead boughs and refuse bark to build a whole encamp- 
 ment of huts. Charley, perhaps, might be willing to join 
 in the sport ; but he was not a favorite playfellow of mine, 
 and would be certain to claim the hut as his exclusive prop- 
 erty, after we other fellows had helped him to build it 
 He was that sort of a boy. Then my fancy wandered 
 away to the real Crusoe on his island, and I repeated to 
 myself Cowper's " Verses, supposed to be written by Alex- 
 ander Selkirk." Somehow, the lines gave an unexpected 
 turn to my thoughts. Where would be the great fun of 
 playing Crusoe, or even his imitators, Sandford and Mer- 
 ton, in a back-garden, where a fellow's mother might call 
 him away at any moment ? I should not be out of human- 
 ity's reach, nor cease to hear the sweet music of speech 
 the beasts that roam over the plain (especially McAllister's 
 bull, in the next field) would not behold my form with in- 
 difference, nor would they suddenly become shockingly 
 tame. It would all be a make-believe, from beginning to
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 5 
 
 end, requiring even greater efforts of imagination than 1 
 had perpetrated a few years earlier, in playing at the vil 
 lage school, 
 
 " Here come three lords, all out of Spain, 
 A-courting of your daughter Jane," 
 
 or in creating real terror by fancying a bear crouching be 
 hind the briers in the fence-corner. 
 
 A little ashamed of myself, I walked to the garden-paling 
 and looked over it, and across the rolling fields, to some 
 low, hazy hills in the distance. I belong to that small 
 class of men whose natures are not developed by a steady, 
 gradual process of growth, but advance by sudden and 
 seemingly arbitrary bounds, divided by intervals during 
 which their faculties remain almost stationary. I had now 
 reached one of those periods of growth, the first, indeed, 
 which clearly presented itself to my own consciousness. 
 I had passed my sixteenth birthday, and the physical 
 change which was imminent began to touch and give color 
 to the operations of my mind. My vision did not pause at 
 the farthest hill, but went on, eagerly, into the unknown 
 landscape beyond. I had previously talked of the life that 
 lay before me as I had talked of Sinbad and Gulliver. 
 Robert Bruce and William Tell : all at once I became 
 conscious that it was an earnest business. 
 
 What must I do? What should I become? The few 
 occupations which found a place in our little village re- 
 pelled me. My frame wan slight, and I felt that, even if ] 
 liked it, I could never swing the blacksmith's hammer, or 
 rip boards like Dick Brown, the carpenter. Moreover, ] 
 had an instinctive dislike to all kinds of manual labor, 
 except the light gardening tasks in which I assisted my 
 mother. Sometimes, in the harvest-season, I had earned a 
 little pocket-money on the neighboring farms. It was 
 pleasant enough to toss hay into cocks on the fragrant 
 meadows, but I did n't like the smother of packing it in
 
 6 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 the steaming mows, and my fingers became painfully sor 
 from binding sheaves. My ambition at this time but a 
 vague, formless desire was to be a scholar, a man of 
 learning. How this was to be attained, or what lay beyond 
 it, I could not clearly see. I knew, without being able to 
 explain why, that the Cross-Keys (as our village was 
 called, from its tavern-sign) was no place for me. But, up 
 to the afternoon I am describing, I had never given the 
 subject a serious thought 
 
 Many a boy of ten knows far more of the world than 1 
 then did. I doubt if any shepherd on the high Norwegian 
 fjelds lives in greater seclusion than did we, my mother 
 and myself. The Cross- Keys lay aside from any of tho 
 main highways of the county, and the farmers around were 
 mostly descendants of the original settlers of the soil, a 
 hundred and fifty years before. Their lives were still as 
 simple and primitive as in the last century. Few of them 
 ever travelled farther than to the Philadelphia market, at 
 the beginning of winter, to dispose of their pigs and poul 
 try. A mixture of the German element, dating from the 
 first emigration, tended still further to conserve the habits 
 and modes of thought of the community. My maternal 
 grandfather, Hatzfeld, was of this stock, and many of his 
 peculiarities, passing over my mother, have reappeared in 
 me, to play their part in the shaping of my fortunes. 
 
 My father had been a house- and sign-painter in the 
 larger village of Honeybrook, four miles distant. Immedi- 
 ately after his death, which happened when I was eight 
 years old, my mother removed to the Cross-Keys, princi- 
 pally because she had inherited the small cottage and gar- 
 den from her spinster aunt, Christina Hatzfeld. There 
 was nothing else, for my great-aunt had only a life-interest 
 in the main estate, which I do not know precisely how 
 had passed into the hands of the male heirs. My 
 mother's means were scarcely sufficient to support us ic 
 the simplest way. and she was therefore in the habit of
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 7 
 
 '' king in sewing" from the wives of the neighboring 
 fanners. Her labor was often paid in produce, and she 
 sometimes received, in addition, presents of fruit, potatoes, 
 and fuel from the kindly-hearted people. Thus we never 
 reached the verge of actual want, though there were times 
 when our daily fare was plainer than she cared to let the 
 neighbors see, and when the new coat or shawl had to be 
 postponed to a more fortunate season. For at least half 
 the year I attended the village school, and had already 
 learned nearly as much as a teacher hired for twenty dollars 
 a month was capable of imparting. The last one, indeed, 
 was unable to help me through quadratic equations, and 
 forced me, unwillingly, upon a course of Mensuration. 
 
 Between mother and myself there was the most entire 
 confidence, except upon the single subject of my future 
 She was at once mother and elder sister, entering with 
 heart and soul into all my childish plans of work or play, 
 listening with equal interest to the stories I read, or relat- 
 ing to me the humble incidents of her own life, with a 
 sweet, fresh simplicity of language, which never lost by 
 repetition. Her large black eyes would sparkle, and her 
 round face, to which the old-fashioned puffs of hair on the 
 temples gave such an odd charm, became as youthful in 
 expression, I am sure, as my own. Her past and her pres- 
 ent were freely shared with me, but she drew back when I 
 turned with any seriousness towards the future. At one 
 time, I think, she would have willingly stopped the march 
 of my years, and been content to keep me at her side, a 
 boy forever. I was incapable of detecting this feeling at 
 the time, and perhaps I wrong her memory in alluding to 
 it now. God knows I have often wished it could have 
 been so ! Whatever of natural selfishness there may have 
 been in the thought, she weighed it down, out of sight, by 
 all those years of self-denial, and the final sacrifice, for mj 
 sake. No truer, tenderer, more single-hearted mothe> 
 ever lived than Barbara Godfrey.
 
 8 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 She was so cordially esteemed in our little community 
 that no reproach, on my account, was allowed to reach hei 
 ears. A boy of my age, who had no settled occupation, 
 was there considered to be in danger of becoming a use- 
 less member of society ; antipathy to hard, coarse manual 
 labor implied a moral deficiency ; much schooling, for one 
 without means, was a probable evil : but no one had the 
 heart to unsettle the widow's comfort in her child. Now 
 and then, perhaps, a visitor might ask, " What are you 
 going to make of him, Barbara ? " whereupon my mother 
 would answer, " He must make himself," with a con- 
 fident smile which put the question aside. 
 
 These words came across my mind as I leaned against 
 the palings, trying to summon some fleeting outline of my 
 destiny from the vapory distance of the landscape. I was 
 perplexed, but not discouraged. My. trials, thus far, had 
 been few. When I first went to school, the boys had called 
 me " Bricktop," or. account of the auburn tinge of my hair, 
 which was a source of great sorrow until Sam Haskell, 
 whose head was of fiery hue, relieved me of the epithet. 
 Emily Rand, whose blue eyes and yellow ringlets confused 
 my lessons, (I am not certain but her pink-spotted calico 
 frock had something to do with it,) treated me scornfully, 
 and even scratched my face when it was my turn to kiss 
 her in playing " Love and War." The farmers' sons also 
 laughed at my awkwardness and want of muscle ; but this 
 annoyance was counterbalanced in the winter, when they 
 came to measure another sort of strength with me at school 
 I had an impression that my value in the neighborhood 
 was not estimated very highly, and had periodical attacks 
 of shyness which almost amounted to self-distrust. On the 
 other hand, I had never experienced any marked unkind- 
 ness or injustice ; my mother spoke ill of no one, and I did 
 not imagine the human race to be otherwise than honest, 
 virtuous, and reciprocally helpful. 
 
 I soon grew tired of facing the sober aspect of reality
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 9 
 
 so unexpectedly presented, and wandered off, as was the 
 habit of my mind, into vague and splendid dreams. If I 
 had the Wonderful Lamp, if a great roc should come 
 sailing out of the western sky, pick me up in his claws, and 
 carry me to the peaks overlooking the Valley of Diamonds, 
 if there were still a country where a cat might be sold 
 for a ship-load of gold, if I might carry a loaf of bread 
 under my arm, like Benjamin Franklin, and afterwards 
 become rich and celebrated, (the latter circumstance being, 
 of course, a result of the former,) there would be no dif- 
 ficulty about my fate. It was hardly likely, however, that 
 either of these things would happen to me ; but why not 
 something else, equally strange and fortunate ? 
 
 A hard slap on a conspicuous, but luckily not a sensitive 
 portion of my body caused me to spring almost over the 
 paling. I whirled abound, and with a swift instinct of re- 
 taliation, struck out violently with both fists. 
 
 " No, you don't ! " cried Bob Simmons, (for he it was,) 
 dodging the blows and then catching me by the wrists. " J 
 did n't mean to strike so hard, John ; don't be mad about it. 
 I 'm going away soon, and came around to tell you." 
 
 Bob was my special crony, because I had found him to 
 be the kindest-hearted of all the village boys. He was not 
 bright at school, and was apt to be rough in his language and 
 manners ; but from the day he first walked home with me, 
 with his arm around my neck. I had faith in his affection. 
 He seemed to like me all the better from my lack of the 
 hard strength which filled him from head to foot. He once 
 carried me nearly a quarter of a mile in his arms, when I 
 had sprained my ankle in jumping down out of an apple-tree. 
 He had that rough male nature which loves what it has 
 once protected or helped. Besides, he was the only com- 
 panion to whom I dared confide my vague projects of life, 
 with the certainty of being not only heard, but encouraged 
 
 " Yes," said Bob, " I am going away, maybe in a fe* 
 weeks."
 
 10 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 " Where ? Not going away for good, Bob ? " 
 
 " Like as not. I 'm nearly eighteen, and Dad says it 'l 
 time to go to work on my own hook. The farm, you know, 
 is n't big enough for him and me, and he can get along with 
 Brewster now. So I must learn a trade ; what do you think 
 it is ? " 
 
 " You said, Bob, that you 'd like to be a mason ? " 
 
 * Would n't I, though ! But it 's the next thing to it 
 Dad says there a'n't agoin' to be many more stone houses 
 built, bricks has got to be the fashion. But they 're sc 
 light, it 's no kind o' work. All square, too ; you 've 
 just to put one atop of t' other, and there 's your wall. 
 Why, you could do it, John. Mort ! Mort ! hurry up with 
 that 'ere hod ! " 
 
 Here Bob imitated the professional cry of the bricklayer 
 with startling exactness. There was not a fibre about him 
 that shrank from contact with labor, or from the rough tus- 
 sle by which a poor boy must win his foothold in the world. 
 I would, at that moment, have given my grammar and alge- 
 bra (in which branches he was lamentably deficient) for a 
 quarter of his unconscious courage. A wild thought flashed 
 across my mind : I might also be a bricklayer, and his fel- 
 low-apprentice ! Then came the discouraging drawback. 
 
 " But, Bob," I said, " the bricks are so rough. I don't 
 like to handle them." 
 
 " Should n't wonder if you did n't Lookee there ! " 
 And Bob laid my right hand in his broad, hard palm, and 
 placed his other hand beside it. " Look at them two hands ! 
 they 're made for different kinds o' work. There 's my 
 thick fingers and broad nails, and your thin fingers and nar- 
 row nails. You can write a'most like copy-plate, and I make 
 the roughest kind o' pot-hooks. The bones o' your fingers 
 is no thicker than a girl's. I dunno what I 'd do if mine 
 was like that." 
 
 I colored, from the sense of my own physical insignifi- 
 cance. " Oh, Bob," I cried, " I wish I was strong ! I '11
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 11 
 
 oave to get my own living, too, and I don't know how tc 
 begin." 
 
 " Oh, there 's time enough for you, John," said Bob, con- 
 solingly. " You need n't fret your gizzard yet awhile. 
 There 's teachin' school is n't so bad to start with. You '11 
 soon be fit to do it, and that 's what I 'd never be, I reckon n 
 
 We went into the little hay-mow over the stable, and sat 
 down, side by side, in the dusky recess, where our only 
 light came through the cracks between the shrunk clap- 
 boards. Bob had brought a horse to the smith to be shod al! 
 round, and there were two others in before him ; so he could 
 count on a good hour before his turn came. It might be 
 our last chat together for a long time, and the thought of 
 this made our intercourse more frank and tender than usual. 
 
 " Tell me, Bob," said I, " what you '11 do after you 've 
 learned the trade." 
 
 " Why, do journey-work, to be sure. They get a dollar 
 and a half a day, in Phildelphy." 
 
 " Well. after that ? " 
 
 " Dunno. P'raps I may be boss, and do business on the 
 wholesale. Bosses make money hand-over-fist. I tell 
 you what, John, I 'd like to build a house for myself like 
 Rand's, heavy stone, two foot thick, and just such big 
 willy-trees before it, a hundred acres o' land, and prime 
 stock on 't, ; would n't I king it, then ! Dad 's had a hard 
 time, he has, only sixty acres, you know, and a morgidge 
 on it Don't you tell nobody, I 'm agoin' to help him 
 pay it off, afore I put by for myself." 
 
 I had not the least idea of the nature of a mortgage, but 
 was ashamed to ask for information. Sometimes I had 
 looked down on Bob from the heights of my superior 
 learning, but now he seemed to overtop me in everything, 
 in strength, in courage, and in practical knowledge. For 
 tho first time, I would have been willing to change places 
 IT h him, ah, how many times afterwards! 
 
 When we weut down out of the hay-mow it was nearly
 
 12 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 evening, and I hurried back to our cottage. The fire which 
 I was accustomed to make in the little back-kitchen was al- 
 ready kindled, and the table set for supper. Mother was 
 unusually silent and preoccupied ; she did not even ask me 
 where I had been. After the simple meal made richer 
 by the addition of four of Neighbor Niles's rusks was 
 over, we took our places in the sitting-room, she with her 
 lap-board, and I with " Sandford and Merton." She did 
 not ask me to read aloud, as usual, but went on silently 
 and steadily with her sewing. Now and then I caught the 
 breath of a rising sigh, checked as soon as she became 
 conscious of it Nearly an hour passed, and my eyelids 
 began to grow heavy, when she suddenly spoke. 
 
 " Put away the book, John. You 're getting tired, I see, 
 and we can talk a little. I have something to say to you." 
 
 I shut the book and turned towards her. 
 
 " It 's time, John, to be thinking of making something of 
 you. In four or five years and the time will go by only 
 too fast you '11 be a man. I 'd like to keep you here 
 always, but I know that can't be. I must n't think of my- 
 self : I must teach you to do without me." 
 
 " But I don't want to do without you, mother ! " I cried. 
 
 u I know it, Johnny dear ; but you must learn it, never- 
 theless. Who knows how soon I may be taken from you ? 
 I want to give you a chance of more and better schooling, 
 because you 're scarcely strong enough for hard work, and 
 I think you 're not so dull but you could manage to get 
 your living out of your head. At least, it would n't be 
 right for me not to help you what little I can. I 've looked 
 forward to it, and laid by whatever I could, dear me, it 's 
 not what it ought to be, but we must be thankful for what 's 
 allowed us. I only want you to make good use of your 
 time while it lasts ; you must always remember that every 
 day is an expense, and that the money was not easy to get* 
 
 a What do you want me to do, mother ? " I asked, aftel 
 a pause.
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 18 
 
 " I have been talking with Neighbor Niles about it, and 
 she seems to see it in the same light as 1 do. She's a 
 good neighbor, and a sensible woman. Charley Rand's 
 lather is going to send him this winter to iJr. Dyinond's 
 school, a mile the other side of Honeybrook. It 's tb.e best 
 in the neighborhood, and I would n't want you to be far 
 away from me* yet awhile. They ask seventy-five dollars 
 for the session, but Charley goes for sixty, having his wash- 
 ing and Sunday's board at home. It seems like a heap of 
 money, John, but I 've laid away, every year since we came 
 here, twenty dollars out of the interest on the fifteen hun- 
 dred your father left me, and that 's a hundred and sixty. 
 Perhaps I could make out to let you have two years' 
 schooling, if I find that you get on well with your studies. 
 I 'in afraid that I could n't do more than that, because 1 
 don't want to touch the capital. It 's all we have. Not 
 that you would n't be able to earn your living in a few 
 years, but we never know what's in store for us. You 
 might become sickly and unable to follow any regular 
 business, or I " 
 
 Here my mother suddenly stopped, clasped her hands 
 tightly together, and turned pale. Her lips were closed, 
 as if in pain, and I could see by the tension of the muscles 
 of her jaws that the teeth were set hard upon each other. 
 Of late, I had several times noticed the same action. I 
 could not drive away the impression that she was endeavor- 
 ing not to cry out under the violence of some mental or 
 physical torture. After a minute or two, the rigidity of 
 her face softened ; she heaved a sigh, which, by a transition 
 infinitely touching, resolved itself into a low, cheerful 
 laugh, and said, 
 
 " But there 's no use, after all, in worrying ourselves 
 by imagining what may never happen. Only I think it 
 best not to touch the capital ; and now you know, Johnny, 
 what you have to depend on. There 's the money that I Ve 
 been saving for you, and you shall have the benefit of it
 
 14 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 every penny. Some folks would say it 's not wisely spent, 
 but it 's you must decide that by the use you make of it 
 If I can see, every Saturday night when you come home, 
 that you know a little more than you did the week before, 
 shall be satisfied." 
 
 I was already glowing and tingling with delight at the 
 prospect held out to me. The sum my mother named 
 seemed to me enormous. I had heard of Dr. Dymond's 
 school as a paradise of instruction, unattainable to common 
 mortals. The boys who went there were a lesser kind of 
 seraphs, sitting in the shade of a perennial tree of knowl- 
 edge. With such advantages, all things seemed suddenly 
 possible to me ; and had my mother remarked, " I expect 
 you to write a book as good as 'The Children of the 
 Abbey,' to make a better speech than Colonel McAllis- 
 ter, to tell the precise minute when the next eclipse of 
 the sun takes place," I should have answered, " Oh, of 
 course." 
 
 " When am I to go ? " I asked. 
 
 " It will be very soon, too soon for me, for I shall find 
 the house terribly lonely without you, John. Charley 
 Rand will go in about three weeks, and I should like to 
 have you ready at the same time." 
 
 " Three weeks ! " I exclaimed, with a joyous excitement, 
 which I checked, feeling a pang of penitence at my own 
 delight, as I looked at mother. 
 
 She was bravely trying to smile, but there were tears in 
 her black eyes. One of her puffs fell out of its place ; I 
 went to her and put it back nicely, as I had often done 
 before, I liked to touch and arrange her hair, when she 
 would let me. Then she began to cry, turning away her 
 head, and saving, " Don't mind me, Johnny ; I did n't 
 mean to." 
 
 It cost me a mighty effort to say it, but I did say, "If 
 you 'd rather have me stay at home, mother, I don't want 
 to go. The cow must be milked and the garden looked 
 liter, anyhow. I did n't think of that"
 
 JOHN GODIREY'S FORTUNES. 15 
 
 fc But I did, my child," she said, wiping her eyes with 
 her apron. " Neighbor Niles will take Muley, and give me 
 half the milk every day. Then, you know, as you will no\ 
 be here on week-days, I shall need less garden-stuff. It's 
 all fixed, and must n't be changed. I made up my mind to 
 it years ago, and ought to be thankful that I 've lived to 
 carry it out. Now, pull off your shoes and go to bed." 
 
 I stole up the narrow, creaking ladder of a staircase to 
 my pigeon-hole under the roof. That night I turned over 
 more than once before I fell asleep. I was not the same 
 boy that got out of the little low bed the morning before, 
 at.d never would be again.
 
 16 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 CHAPTER H. 
 
 DESCRIBING MY INTRODUCTION INTO DR. DTMOND'S 
 BOARDING-SCHOOL. 
 
 FROM that day the preparations for my departure went 
 forward without interruption. Mother quite recovered her 
 cheerfulness, both permitting and encouraging my glowing 
 predictions of the amount of study I should perform and 
 the progress I should make. The jacket was finished, still 
 retaining its perverse tendency to fly open, which gave me 
 trouble enough afterwards. I had also a pair of trousers 
 of the same material ; they might have been a little baggy 
 in the hinder parts, but otherwise they fitted me very well. 
 A new cap was needed, and mother had serious thoughts 
 of undertaking its construction. My old seal-skin was 
 worn bare, but even a new one of the same material 
 would scarcely have answered. Somebody reported from 
 Honeybrook that Dr. Dymond's scholars wore stylish caps 
 of blue cloth, and our store-keeper was therefore commis- 
 sioned to get me one of the same kind from Philadelphia. 
 He took the measure of my head, to make sure of a fit ; yet, 
 when the wonderful cap came, it proved to be much too 
 large. " 'T will all come right in the end, Mrs. Godfrey," 
 said the store-keeper ; " his head '11 begin to swell when he 's 
 been at school a few weeks." Meanwhile, it was carefully 
 accommodated to my present dimensions by a roll of paper 
 inside the morocco lining. A pair of kip-skin boots real 
 top-boots, and the first T ever had completed my outfit 
 Compared with my previous experience, T was gorgeously
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 17 
 
 arrayed. It was fortunate that my Sundays were to be 
 spent at home, as a second suit, much less a better one, 
 was quite beyond my mother's means. 
 
 Mr. Rand, Charley's father, made all the necessary ar- 
 rangements with Dr. Dymond, and kindly offered to take 
 me over to the school in his " rockaway," on the first Mon- 
 day of November. The days dragged on with double slow- 
 ness to me, but I have no doubt they rushed past like a 
 whirlwind to mother. I did everything I could to arrange 
 for her comfort during my absence, put the garden in 
 winter trim, sawed wood and piled it away, sorted the sup- 
 plies of potatoes and turnips in the cellar, and whatever 
 else she suggested, doing these tasks with a feverish haste 
 and an unnecessary expenditure of energy. Whenever I 
 had a chance, I slipped away to talk over my grand pros- 
 pects with Dave Niles, or some other of the half-dozen vil- 
 lage boys of my age. I felt for them a certain amount of 
 commiseration, which was not lessened by their sneers at 
 Dr. Dymond's school, and the damaging stories which they 
 told about the principal himself. I knew that any of them 
 unless it was Jackson Reanor, the tavern-keeper's son 
 would have been glad to stand in my new boots. 
 
 " I know all about old Dymond," said Dave ; " he licks 
 awfully, and not always through your trousers, neither. 
 Charley Rand 'd give his skin if he had n't to go. His fa- 
 ther makes him." 
 
 " Now, that 's a lie, Dave," I retorted. (We boys used 
 the simplest and strongest terms in our conversation.) " Old 
 Rand would n't let Charley be licked ; you know he took 
 him away from our school when Mr. Kendall whacked his 
 hands with the ruler." 
 
 " Then he '11 have to take him away from Dymond's too, 
 I -guess," said Dave. " Wait, and you 11 see. Maybe 
 there '11 be two of you." 
 
 I turned away indignantly, and went to see Bob Sim- 
 mons, whose hearty sympathy was always a healing-plaster 
 S
 
 18 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 for the moral bruises inflicted by the other boys. Bob was 
 not very demonstrative, but he had a grave, common-sense 
 way of looking at matters which sometimes brought me 
 down from my venturesome flights of imagination, but left 
 me standing on firmer ground than before. When I first 
 told him of my mother's plan, he gave me a thundering 
 slap on the back, and exclaimed, 
 
 ' She 's a brick ! It 's the very thing for you, Johnny. 
 Come, old fellow, you and me '11 take an even start, your 
 head aginst my hands. I would n't stop much to bet on 
 your head, though I do count on my hands doin' a good deal 
 for me." 
 
 Finally the appointed Monday arrived. I was to go in 
 the afternoon, and mother had dinner ready by twelve 
 o'clock, so that Mr. Rand would not be obliged to wait a 
 minute when he called. Her plump little body was in con- 
 stant motion, dodging back and forth between the kitchen 
 and sitting-room, while she talked upon any and every sub- 
 ject, as if fearful of a moment's rest or silence. " It will 
 only be until Saturday night," she repeated, over and over 
 again. How little I understood all this intentional bustle 
 at the time, yet how distinctly I recall it now. 
 
 After a while, there was a cry outside of " Hallo, the 
 house ! " quite unnecessary, for I had seen Rand's rocka- 
 way ever since it turned out of the lane beyond Reanor's 
 stables. I hastily opened the door, and shouted, " I 'm com- 
 ing ! " Mother locked the well-worn, diminutive carpet- 
 bag which I was to take along, gave me a kiss, saying 
 cheerfully, " Only till Saturday night ! " and then followed 
 me out to the gate. Mr. Rand and Charley occupied the only 
 two seats in the vehicle, but there was a small wooden stool 
 for me, where I sat, wedged between their legs, holding the 
 sarpet-bag between mine. Its contents consisted of one 
 shirt, one pair of stockings, a comb, tooth-brush and piece 
 of soap, a box of blacking and a brush. I had never heard 
 of a night-shirt at that time. When I opened the bag, aften
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 19 
 
 wards. I discovered two fall pippins and a paper of cakes 
 snugly stowed away in one corner. 
 
 " Good-day. Mrs. Godfrey ! " said Mr. Rand, squar 
 ing himself on his seat, and drawing up the reins for a 
 start ; " I '11 call on the way home, and tell you how J 
 left 'em." 
 
 " I shall be so much obliged," my mother cried. " Do 
 you hear. Johnny ? I shall have word of you to-night 
 now, good -bye ! " 
 
 Looking back as we drove away, I saw her entering the 
 cottage-door. Then I looked forward, and my thoughts 
 also went forward to the approaching school-life. I felt the 
 joy and the fear of a bird that has just been tumbled out 
 of the nest by its parent, and flatteringly sustains itself on 
 its own wings. I did not see. as I now can, my mother 
 glance pitifully around the lonely room after she closed the 
 door ; carefully put away a few displaced articles ; go to the 
 window and look up the road by which I had disappeared ; 
 and then sink into her quaint old rocking-chair, and cry 
 without stint, until her heart recovers its patience. Then I 
 see her take up the breadths of a merino skirt for Mrs. 
 Reanor, and begin sewing them together. Her face is calm 
 and pale ; she has rearranged her disordered puffs, and 
 seems to be awaiting somebody. She is not disappointed : the 
 gate-latch clicks, the door opens, and good Neighbor Niles 
 comes in with a half-knit stocking in her hand. This means 
 tea, and so the afternoon passes cheerfully away. But when 
 the fire is raked for the night on the kitchen-hearth, mother 
 looks or listens, forgetting afresh every few minutes that 
 there will be no sleeper in the little garret-room to-night : 
 takes up her lamp with a sigh, and walks wearily into her 
 chamber ; looks long at the black silhouette of my father 
 hung over the mantel-piece ; murmurs to herself, is it a 
 prayer to Our Father, or a whisper to the beloved Spiri ? 
 and at last, still murmuring words whose import I maj 
 guess, and with tears, now sad, now grateful, lies down in
 
 20 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 her bed and gives her soul to the angels that protect the 
 holy Sleep ! 
 
 Let me return to my own thoughtless, visionary, confident 
 self. Charley and I chattered pleasantly together, as we 
 rode along, for, although he was no great favorite of mine, 
 the resemblance in our destined lot for the next year or 
 two brought us into closer relations. Being ar only son, 
 he had his own way too much, and sometimes showed him- 
 self selfish and overbearing towards the rest of us ; but I 
 never thought him really ill-willed, and I could not help 
 liking any boy (or girl, either) who seemed to like me. 
 
 Mr. Rand now and then plied us with good advice, which 
 Charley shook off as a duck sheds water, while I received 
 it in all earnestness, and with a conscientious desire to re- 
 member and profit by it. He also enlarged upon our fu- 
 ture places in the world, provided our " finishing " at the 
 school was what it ought to be. 
 
 " I don't say what either o' you will be, mind," he said ; 
 '" but there 's no tellin' what you might n't be. Member o' 
 the Legislatur' Congress President : any man may be 
 President under our institootions. If you turn out smart 
 and sharp, Charley, I don't say but what I might n't let you 
 be a lawyer or a doctor, though law pays best. You, 
 John, '11 have to hoe your own row ; and I dunno what 
 you 're cut out for, maybe a minister. You 've got a sort 
 o' mild face, like ; not much hard grit about you, I guess, 
 but 't a'n't wanted in that line." 
 
 The man's words made me feel uncomfortable the 
 more so as I had never felt the slightest ambition to become 
 a clergyman. I did n't quite know what he meant by " hard 
 grit," but I felt that his criticism was disparaging, con- 
 trasted with his estimate of Charley. My reflection 
 nrere interrupted by the latter saying, 
 
 " I 'm agoin' to be what I like best, Pop ! " 
 
 I said nothing, but I recollect what my thoughts were 
 " I 'm going to be what I can ; I don't know what ; but it 
 will be something"
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 21 
 
 From the crest of a long, rolling wave of farm-land we 
 now saw the village of Honeybrook. straggling across the 
 bottom of a shallow valley, in the centre of which, hard 
 against the breast of a long, narrow pond, stood its flour- 
 and saw-mills. I knew the place, as well from later visits 
 as from my childish recollections ; and I knew also that the 
 heavy brick building, buried in trees, on a rise of ground 
 off to the northeast, was the Honeybrook Boarding-School 
 for Boys, kept by Dr. Dymond. A small tin cupola (to 
 my boyish eyes a miracle of architectural beauty) rose 
 above the trees, and sparkled in the sun. Under that 
 magnificent star I was to dwell. 
 
 We passed through the eastern end of the village, and in 
 another quarter of an hour halted in a lane, at one end of 
 the imposing establishment. Mr. Rand led the way into 
 the house. Charley and I following, carpet-bags in hand. 
 An Irish servant-girl, with a face like the rising moon, 
 answered the bell, and ushered us into a reception-room on 
 the right hand of the passage. The appearance of this 
 room gave me a mingled sensation of delight and awe. 
 There was a bookcase, a small cabinet of minerals, two 
 large maps on the walls, and a plaster bust of Franklin on 
 the mantel-piece. The floor was covered with oil-cloth, 
 checkered with black and white squares, and a piece of 
 green oil-cloth, frayed at the edges, bedecked the table 
 The only ornament in the room was a large spittoon of 
 brown earthen-ware. Charley and I took our seats behind 
 the table, on a very slippery sofa of horse-hair, while Mr. 
 Rand leaned solemnly against the mantel-piece, making 
 frequent use of the spittoon. Through a side-door we 
 heard the unmistakable humming of a school in full blast 
 
 Presently this door opened, and Dr. Dymond entered 
 I looked with some curiosity at the Jupiter Tonans whose 
 nod I was henceforth to obey. He was nothing like so 
 large a man as I expected to see. He may have been fifty 
 years old t his black hair was well streaked with gray, and
 
 22 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 he stooped slightly. His gray eyes were keen and clear, 
 and shaded by bushy brows, his nose long and wedge* 
 shaped, and his lips thin and firm. He was dressed in 
 black broadcloth, considerably glazed by wear, and his 
 black cravat was tied with great care under a very high 
 and stiff shirt-collar. His voice was dry and distinct, his 
 language precise, and the regular play of his lips, from the 
 centre towards the corners, suggested to me the idea that 
 he peeled his words of any roughness or inaccuracy as they 
 issued from his mouth. 
 
 " Ah, Mr. Rand ? " h said, bowing blandly and shaking 
 hands. "And these are the boys ? The classes are scarcely 
 formed as yet, but we shall soon get them into the right 
 places. How do you do ? This is young Godfrey, I pre- 
 sume." 
 
 He shook hands with us, and then turned to Mr. Rand, 
 who took out his pocket-book and produced two small rolls, 
 one of which I recognized as that which mother had given 
 to him when we left home. It was " half the pay in ad- 
 vance," in accordance with the terms of the institution. 
 Dr. Dymond signed two pieces of paper and delivered 
 them in return, after which he announced : 
 
 " I must now attend to my school. The boys may remain 
 in the family-parlor until tea, when they will join the other 
 pupils. They will commence the regular course of study 
 to-morrow morning." 
 
 He ushered us across the passage into the opposite room, 
 bade good-bye to Mr. Rand, and disappeared. " Well, 
 boys," said the latter, " I guess it 's all ship-shape now. and 
 I can go. I want you to hold up your heads like men, and 
 work like beavers." He shook hands with Charley, but 
 only patted me on the head, which I did n't like ; so, when 
 Charley ran to the window to see him drive down the lane, 
 I turned my back and began examining the books on the 
 table. 
 
 There were >k Dick's Works." and Dr. Lardner's " Scien-
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTLNES. 2.'5 
 
 tific Lectures," and " Redfield's Meteorology'," and I dont 
 know what besides, for, stumbling on Mrs. Somerville's 
 u Physical Geography," I opened that, and commenced read- 
 ing. I had a ravenous hunger for knowledge, and my op- 
 portunities for getting books had been so few that scarcely 
 anything came amiss. Many of the technical terms used in 
 the book were new to me, but I leaped lightly over them, 
 finding plenty of stuff to keep my interest alive. 
 
 ' I say, Jack," Charley suddenly called, " here *s one of 
 the boys ! " 
 
 My curiosity got the better of me. I laid down the book, 
 and went to the window. A lank youth of about my own 
 age, with short brown hair and sallow face, was leaning 
 against the sunny side of a poplar-tree, munching an apple. 
 From the way in which he made the tree cover his body, 
 and the furtive glances he now and then threw towards the 
 house, it was evident that he was not pursuing the " regular 
 course of study." "We watched him until he had finished 
 the apple and thrown away the core, when he darted across 
 to the nearest corner of the house, and crept along the 
 wall, under the very window at which we were standing. 
 As he was passing it, he looked up, dodged down suddenly, 
 looked again, and, becoming reassured, gave us an impu- 
 dent wink as he stole away. 
 
 We were so interested in watching this performance 
 that a sharp - Ahem!" in the room, behind us, caused us 
 both to start and blush, with a sense of being accessories in 
 the misdemeanor. I turned and saw an erect, sparely 
 formed lady of thirty-five, whose clouded gray eyes looked 
 upon me through a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles. Her 
 hair was brown, and hung down each side of her face in 
 three long curls. Her gown was of a black, rustling stuff, 
 which did not seem to be silk, and she wore a broad linen 
 collar, almost like a boy's, with a bit of maroon-colored 
 nbbon in front. If I were an artist, I am sure I could 
 draw her entire figure at this moment. It was Miss Hitch-
 
 24 JOHX GODFREYS FORTUNES. 
 
 cock, as I discovered next day, a distant relathe, 1 
 believe, of Dr. Dymond, who assisted him in teaching the 
 younger boys, and, indeed, some of the older ones. Her 
 specialty was mathematics, though it was said that she was 
 tolerably well versed in Latin also. 
 
 " You are new scholars, young gentlemen, I see," she 
 remarked, in a voice notable, like Dr. Dymond's. for its 
 precise enunciation. " May I ask your names ? " 
 
 Charley gave his, and I followed his example. 
 
 " Indeed ! Godfrey ? A mathematical name ! Do you 
 inherit the peculiar talent of your famous ancestor ? " 
 
 Her question was utterly incomprehensible to me. I 
 had never even heard of Thomas Godfrey or his quadrant, 
 and have found no reason, since, to claim relationship with 
 him. I had a moderate liking for abstract mathematics. 
 
 O 
 
 but not sufficient to be developed, by any possibility, into a 
 talent Consequently, after stammering and hesitating, I 
 finally answered, " I don't know." 
 
 " We shall see," she said, with a patronizing, yet friendly 
 air. " How far have you advanced in your mathematical 
 studies ? " 
 
 I gave her the full extent of my algebra. 
 
 " Do you know Logarithms ? " 
 
 Again I was cruelly embarrassed. I was not sure 
 whether she meant a person or a book. Not being able to 
 apply the term to anything in my memory, I at last an- 
 swered in the negative. 
 
 " You will come to them by the regular progressive 
 path.'' she said. " Also the Differential Calculus. There 
 I envy you ! I think the sense of power which you feel 
 when you have mastered the Differential Calculus never 
 can come twice in the course of a mathematical curriculum. 
 I would be willing to begin again, if I were certain that 
 I should experience it a second time." Here she sighed, 
 as if recalling some vanished joy. 
 
 For my part, I began to be afraid of Miss Hitchcock. I
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 25 
 
 had never encountered, much less imagined, such a prodigj 
 of learning. I despaired of being able to understand her ; 
 how she would despise my ignorance when she discovered 
 it ) I afterwards found that, although she was very fond of 
 expatiating upon mathematical regions into which few of 
 the scholars ventured, she was a very clear and capita] 
 instructress when she descended to the simpler branches. 
 
 Turning from me, she now said to Charley, " Do you 
 share your friend's taste ? " 
 
 He appeared no less bewildered than myself; but he 
 answered, boldly, " Can't say as I do." 
 
 " Come to me, both of you." 
 
 She took a seat, and we approached her awkwardly, and 
 with not a little wonder. She stretched forth her hands 
 and grasped each of us by the outer arm, stationed us side 
 by side, and looked from one to another. " Quite a differ- 
 ence in the heads ! " she remarked, after a full minute of 
 silent inspection : " Number is not remarkably developed 
 in either ; Language good in both ; more Ideality here," 
 (touching me on one of the temples,) " also more of the 
 Moral Sentiment," (placing a hand on each of our heads). 
 Then she began rubbing Charley's head smartly, over the 
 ears, and though he started back, coloring with anger, she 
 composedly added, " I thought so, Acquisitiveness six 
 plus, if not seven." 
 
 We retired to our seats, not at all edified by these caba- 
 listic sentences. She presently went to a bookcase, glanced 
 along the titles, and, having selected two bulky volumes, 
 approached us, saying, " I should think these works would 
 severally interest you, young gentlemen, judging from your 
 developments." 
 
 On opening mine, I found it to be " Blair's Rhetoric," 
 while Charley's, as I saw on looking over his shoulder at 
 the title, was the first volume of " McCulloch's Commercial 
 Dictionary." For herself she chose a volume of equal size, 
 containing diagrams, which, from their irregular form, I am
 
 26 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 now inclined to think must have been geological. Charley 
 seemed to be greatly bored with this literary entertainmeni 
 and I should probably have been equally so, had I nol 
 found couplets and scraps of poetry on turning over the 
 leaves. These kernels I picked out from the thick husks of 
 prose in which they were wrapped, and relished. 
 
 The situation was nevertheless tedious, and we were 
 greatly relieved, an hour later, when the dusk was already 
 falling, to hear the loud sound of a bell echoing through 
 the house. Miss Hitchcock rose and put away her book, 
 and we were only too glad to do likewise. The regular 
 tramp of feet sounded in the passage, and presently an im- 
 mense noise of moving chairs came from the adjoining room 
 dn our left. The door of this room opened, and Dr. Dy- 
 mond beckoned to us. On entering, we beheld two long 
 cables, at each of which about twenty boys or young men, 
 of all ages from twelve to twenty-four, were seated. Dr. 
 Dymond, placing himself at the head of the first table, 
 pointed out to us two vacant seats at the bottom of the sec- 
 ond, which was presided over by Miss Hitchcock. All eyes 
 were upon us as we walked down the room, and I know I 
 was red to the roots of my hair ; Charley took the scrutiny 
 more easily. It was not merely the newness of the expe- 
 rience, though that of itself was sufficiently embarrass- 
 ing, the consciousness of my new clothes covered me 
 awkwardly, from head to foot I saw some of the boys 
 wink stealthily at each other, or thrust their tongues into 
 their cheeks, and envied the brazen stare with which my 
 companion answered them. 
 
 No sooner had we taken our seats than Dr. Dymond 
 rapped upon the table with the handle of his knife. The 
 forty boys immediately fixed their eyes upon their plates, 
 and a short grace was uttered in a loud tone. At its con- 
 clusion, the four Irish maids in waiting set up a loud rat- 
 tling of cups and spoons, and commenced pitching measures 
 of weak tea upon the table. I was so amazed at the rapid-
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 27 
 
 a\ and apparent recklessness with which they flung the 
 cups down beside the boys, that I forgot to help myself to 
 the plate of cold meat until all the best pieces were gone, 
 and I was obliged to choose between a few fatty scraps. 
 This dish, with some country-made cheese, and a moder- 
 ate quantity of bread and butter, constituted the supper. 
 When Dr. Dymond had finished, he clasped his hands 
 over his stomach, twirling one thumb around the other, 
 and now and then casting a sharp glance at such of the 
 boys as were still eating. The latter seemed to have a 
 consciousness of the fact, for they hastily crammed the last 
 morsels of bread into their mouths and gulped down half a 
 cup of tea at a time. In a few moments they also crossed 
 their knives and forks upon their plates, and sat erect in 
 their chairs. Thereupon Dr. Dymond nodded down his 
 table, first to the row on his right hand, and then to the 
 row on his left, both of whom rose and retired in the same 
 order. Miss Hitchcock gave a corresponding signal to our 
 table, and I found myself, almost before I knew it, in the 
 school-room on the other side of the hall. Most of the 
 boys jerked down their caps from the pegs and rushed out- 
 of-doors, being allowed half an hour's recreation before 
 commencing their evening studies. With them went Char- 
 ley, leaving me to look out for myself. Some half-dozen 
 youths, all of them older than I, gathered around the stove, 
 and I sat down shyly upon a stool not far from them, and 
 listened to their talk. Subjects of study, village news, 
 the private scandal of the school, and " the girls," were 
 strangely mingled in what I heard ; and not a few things 
 caused me to open my eyes and wonder what kind of fel- 
 lows they were. I had one comfort, however : they were 
 evidently superior to my former associates at the Cross- 
 Keys. 
 
 As they did not seem to notice me, I got up after a while 
 and looked out the window at the other boys playing. 
 Charley Rand was already "hail-fellow well-met " with the
 
 28 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 most of them. I have never since seen his equal for mak 
 ing acquaintances. 
 
 It was not long before a few strokes of the bell hanging 
 under the tin cupola called them all into the school-room. 
 Lamps were lighted, and the Principal made his appear- 
 ance. His first care was to assign desks to us, and I was 
 .1 little disappointed that Charley and I were placed at dif- 
 ferent forms. I found myself sandwiched between a grave, 
 plodding youth of two-and-twenty, and a boy somewhat 
 younger than myself, who had a disagreeable habit of whis- 
 pering his lessons. At the desk exactly opposite to me sat 
 a boy of eighteen, whose face struck me as the most beau- 
 tiful I had ever seen, yet the impression which it produced 
 was not precisely agreeable. His head was nobly balanced 
 and proudly carried, the hair black and crisply curling, the 
 skin uniform as marble in its hue, which was a very pale 
 olive, the lips full, short, and scornfully curved, and the eyes 
 large and bright, but too defiant, for his years, in their ex- 
 pression. Beside him sat his physical opposite, a red- 
 cheeked, blue-eyed, laughing fellow of fourteen, as fresh 
 and sweet as a girl, but with an imp of mischief dodging 
 about his mouth, or lurking in the shadow of his light- 
 brown locks. I had not been at my desk fifteen minutes 
 before he stealthily threw over to me a folded slip of paper, 
 on which he had written, " What is your name ? " 
 
 I looked up, and was so charmed by the merry brightness 
 of the eyes which met mine that I took a pen and wrote, 
 " John Godfrey. What is yours ? " 
 
 Back came the answer, " Bill Caruthers." 
 
 It was several days before I discovered why he and all 
 the other boys who heard me address him as liill Caruthers 
 laughed so immoderately. The little scamp had written the 
 name of my grave right-hand neighbor, his own name be- 
 ing Oliver Thornton. 
 
 There was no recitation in the evening, so. after a fe\* 
 questions. Dr. Dymoncl ordered metoprepaiv forthegran>
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 29 
 
 mar class in the morning. I attended to the task conscion 
 tiously, and had even gone beyond it when bedtime came. 
 The Doctor himself mounted with us to the attic-story 
 which was divided into four rooms, containing six beds 
 each. I had expected to sleep with Charley Rand, and was 
 quite dismayed to see him go off to another room with one 
 of his new playmates. 
 
 I stood, meanwhile, lonely and abashed, with my little 
 carpet-bag in hand, in the centre of one of the rooms, with 
 nine boys around me in various degrees of undress. Dr. 
 Dymond finally perceived my forlorn plight. 
 
 " Boys," said he, " which beds here are not filled. You 
 must make room for Godfrey." 
 
 " Whitaker's and Penrose's," answered one, who sat in 
 his shirt on the edge of a bed, pulling off his stockings. 
 
 The Doctor looked at the beds indicated. " Where 's 
 Penrose ? " he said. 
 
 " Here, sir," replied Penrose, entering the room at that 
 moment It was my vis-a-vis of the school-room. 
 
 " Godfrey will sleep with you." 
 
 Penrose cast an indifferent glance towards me, and pulled 
 off his coat. I commenced undressing, feeling that all the 
 boys in the room, who were now comfortably in bed, were 
 leisurely watching me. But Dr. Dymond stood waiting, 
 lamp in hand, and I hurried, with numb fingers, to get off 
 my clothes. " A slim chance of legs," I heard one of the 
 boys whisper, as I crept along the further side of the bed 
 and stole between the sheets. Penrose turned them down 
 immediately afterwards, deliberately stretched himself out 
 with his back towards me, and then drew up the covering. 
 Dr. Dymond vanished with the lamp, and closed the door 
 after him. 
 
 My situation was too novel, and let me confess the exact 
 truth I was too frightened, to sleep. I had once or twice 
 passed a night with Bob Simmons, at his father's house, but 
 with this exception had always slept alone. The silence
 
 30 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 and indifference of my bedfellow troubled me. I envied 
 the other pairs, who were whispering together, or stifling 
 their laughter with the bedclothes, lest the Doctor migh 
 hear. I tucked the edges of the sheet and blankets undei 
 me, and lay perfectly still, lest I should annoy Penrose, 
 who was equally motionless. but whether he slept or not, 
 I could not tell. My body finally began to ache from the 
 fixed posture, but it was a long time before I dared to turn, 
 moving an inch at a time. The glory of the school was 
 already dimmed by the experience of the first evening, and 
 I was too ignorant to foresee that my new surroundings 
 would soon become not only familiar, but pleasant The 
 room was silent, except for a chorus of deep breathings, 
 with now and then the mutterings of a boyish dream, l>e- 
 fnre I fell asleep.
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 31 
 
 CHAPTER in. 
 
 IN WHICH I BEGIN TO LOOK FORWARTV 
 
 THE bell in the cupola called us from our beds at the first 
 streak of dawn. The clang awoke me with a start, my 
 sleep having been all the more profound from its delay in 
 coming. For a minute or two I could not imagine where 
 or what I was, and even when the knowledge finally crept 
 through my brain, and I had thrust my spare legs out from 
 under the bedclothes, 1 mechanically kept my head bent 
 down lest it should bump against the rafters in my garret 
 at home. Penrose, who was already half dressed, seemed 
 to notice this ; there was a mocking smile on his handsome 
 lips, but he said nothing. The other boys set up such a 
 clatter that I Avas overlooked, and put on my clothes with 
 less embarrassment than I had taken them oft'. 
 
 We then went down-stairs to a large shed an append- 
 age to the kitchen at the back of the house. There 
 was a pump in the corner, and some eight or ten tin wash- 
 basins ranged side by side in a broad, shallow trough. Four 
 endless tow r els, of coarse texture, revolved on rollers, and 
 there was much pushing and hustling among the boys who 
 came from the basins with bent, dripping faces, and ex- 
 tended, dripping hands. Towards the end of the ablutions, 
 as the dry spots became rare, the revolution of the towels 
 increased, and the last-comers painfully dried themselves 
 along the edges. 
 
 There was a fire in the school-room, but the atmosphere 
 was chilly, and the dust raided by the broom lay upon the
 
 32 JOHN GODFREY S FORTUNES. 
 
 desks. My neighbor Caruthers, however, had taken his sea^ 
 and was absorbed in the construction of a geometrical dia 
 
 O 
 
 giam. I made a covert examination of him as 1 took my 
 place beside him. His features were plain, and by no means 
 intellectual, and I saw that his hands were large and hard, 
 showing that he was used to labor. I afterwards learned 
 that he was actually a carpenter, and that he paid for his 
 winter's instruction by the summer's earnings at his trade. 
 He was patient, plodding, and conscientious in his studies. 
 His progress, indeed, was slow, but what he once acquired 
 was never lost. In the course of time a quiet, friendly un- 
 derstanding sprang up between us ; perhaps we recognized 
 a similar need of exertion and self-reliance. 
 
 After breakfast the business of the school commenced 
 in earnest with me. Dr. Dymond, with some disqualifica- 
 tions, had nevertheless correctly chosen his vocation. Look- 
 ing back to him now, I can see that his attainments were 
 very superficial, but he had at least a smattering of every 
 possible science, a clear and attractive way of presenting 
 what he knew, and great skill in concealing his deficiencies. 
 Though he was rather strict and exacting towards the 
 school, in its collective character, his manner was usually 
 friendly and encouraging towards the individual pupils. 
 He thus preserved a creditable amount of discipline, with- 
 out provoking impatience or insubordination. He was very 
 fond of discoursing to us, sometimes for an hour at a time, 
 upon any subject which happened temporarily to interest 
 him ; and if the regular order of study was thereby inter- 
 rupted, I have no doubt we w r ere gainers in the end. He 
 had the knack of exciting a desire for knowledge, which is 
 a still more important quality in a teacher than that of im- 
 parting it. In my own case, I know, what had before beeu 
 a vague ambition took definite form and purpose under the 
 stimulus of his encouragement 
 
 With the exception of Miss Hitchcock, there was no reg- 
 ular assistant One of the oldest pupils took charge of a
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 33 
 
 dozen of the youngest scholars, in consideration (as was 
 surmised in the school) of being received as a boarder 
 without pay. Mrs. Dymond or Mother Dyinond, as the 
 boys called her was rarely seen, unless a scholar hap- 
 pened to fall sick, when she invariably made her appear- 
 ance with a bowl of hot gruel or herb-tea. She was a mild, 
 phlegmatic creature, with weak eyes, very little hair on week- 
 days, and an elaborate cap and false front on Sundays. She 
 bad no children. 
 
 My first timidity on entering the school was considerably 
 alleviated by the discovery that I was not behind any of 
 the scholars of my age in the most important branches. 
 Dr. Dymond commended my reading, chirography, and 
 grammar, and gave me great delight by placing me in the 
 " composition " class. I had a blank book for my exercises, 
 which were first written on a slate and then carefully copied 
 in black and white. The mysteries of amplification, con 
 densation, and transposition fascinated me. I don't know 
 in how many ways I recorded the fact that " Peter, the 
 ploughman, ardently loved Mary, the beautiful shepherd- 
 ess." I drew the stock comparisons between darkness anr! 
 adversity, sunshine and prosperity, plunged into antithesis, 
 and clipped away pleonasms with a boldness which aston- 
 ished myself. Pen rose was in the same class. I thought, 
 but it may have been fancy, that his lip curled a little when 
 I went forward with him to the recitation. He looked at me 
 gravely and steadily when my turn came ; I felt his eye, 
 and my voice wavered at the commencement. It seemed 
 that we should never become acquainted. I was too timid 
 to make the least advance, though attracted, in spite of my- 
 self, by his proud beauty ; and he retained the same air of 
 haughty indifference. At night we lay down silently side 
 by side, and it was not until the fourth morning that he ad- 
 dressed a single word to me. I heard the bell, but lingered 
 for one sweet, warm minute longer. Perhaps he thought 
 me asleep ; for he leaned over the bed, took me by the
 
 84 JOHX GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 shoulder, and said, " Get up ! " I was so startled that I 
 sprang out of bed at one bound. 
 
 I noticed that young Thornton, though a very imp of mis- 
 chief towards the other boys, never dared to play the least 
 prank upon Penrose. Something had happened between 
 the two, during a previous term, but what it was, none ex- 
 cept themselves knew. No one, I was told, could cope 
 with Penrose in muscular strength, yet there was nothing 
 of the bully about him. He was respected, without being 
 popular ; his isolation, unlike that of Caruthers, had some- 
 thing offensive about it. I was a little vexed with myself 
 that he usurped so prominent a place in my thoughts : but 
 so it was. 
 
 Charley Rand took on the ways of the school at the 
 start, and was at home in every respect before two clays 
 were over. I could not so easily adapt myself to the new 
 circumstances, but slowly and awkwardly put off my first 
 painful feeling of embarrassment. Fortunately, before the 
 week was over, another new scholar was introduced, and 
 he served at least to turn the attention of the school away 
 from me. I was older than he by three days' experience. 
 a fact which gave me a pleasant increase of confidence. 
 Nevertheless, the time wore away very slowly ; months 
 seemed to have intervened since my parting with my 
 mother, and I was quite excited with the prospect of 
 returning, when the school was dismissed, early on Satur- 
 day afternoon. 
 
 " Oh, Charley ! " I cried, as we passed over the ridge 
 beyond Honeybrook, and Dr. Dymond's school sank out of 
 sight, *' only think ! in an hour we shall be at home." 
 
 u If 't was n't for the better grub I shall get Godfrey, 
 I 'd as lief stay over Sunday with the boys," said he. He 
 had already dropped the familiar " Jack," but this shocked 
 me less than his indifference to the homestead, where, I 
 knew, he was always petted and indulged. It WHS not 
 long before I, in turn, learned to call him " liand."
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 3f 
 
 He continually detained me by stopping to search fo\ 
 chestnuts in the edges of the groves, or to throw stones al 
 the squirrels scampering along the top-rails of the fences. 
 Finally I grew impatient, and hurried forward alone, foi 
 the houses of our little village were in sight, and I knew 
 mother would be expecting me every moment. I felt sure 
 that I should see her face at the window, and considered a 
 moment whether I should not jump into the next field and 
 cross it to the rear of our garden, so as to take her by sur- 
 prise. I gave up this plan, and entered by the front-door, 
 but I still had my surprise, for she had not expected me so 
 soon. 
 
 " Well, mother, have you been very lonely ? " I asked, 
 as soon as the first joyous greeting was over. 
 
 " No, Johnny, not more than I expected ; but it 's nice 
 to have you back again. I '11 just see to the kitchen, and 
 then you must tell me everything." 
 
 She bustled out, but came back presently with red 
 cheeks and sparkling eyes, moved her chair beside mine, 
 and said, " Now " 
 
 I gave the week's history, from beginning to end, my 
 mother every now and then lifting up her hands and say- 
 ing, " You don't say so ! " I concealed only my own feel- 
 ings of strangeness and embarrassment, which it was mor- 
 tifying enough to confess to myself. The account I gave 
 of the studies upon which I had entered was highly satis- 
 factory to my poor mother, and I have no doubt that the 
 pride she felt, or foresaw she should feel, in my advance- 
 ment, helped her thenceforth to bear her self-imposed sac- 
 rifice. My description of Miss Hitchcock's singular ques- 
 tions and phrenological remarks seemed to afford her great 
 pleasure, and I am sure that the picture which I drew of 
 Dr. Dymond's erudition must have been overwhelming. 
 
 " I 'm glad I 've sent you, Johnny ! " she exclaimed when 
 I had finished. " It seems to be the right place, and I 
 don't begrudge the money a bit. if it helps to make a man
 
 36 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 of you. I've been more troubled this week on your account 
 than my own. Some boarding-schools are rough places for 
 a boy like you, that has n't been knocked about and made 
 to fight his way. I was afraid I 'd kept you too long at 
 nome. maybe, but I guess you 're not spoiled yet, are 
 you ? " 
 
 " No, indeed, mother ! " I cried, jumping up to smooth 
 one of her puffs. How glad I was of the bit of boyish 
 swagger which had so happily deceived her. 
 
 We had " short cakes " and currant-jam for supper that 
 night. How cosy and delightful it was, to be sure ! I had 
 brought along the book in which my exercises in composi- 
 tion were written, and read them aloud, every one. Poor 
 mother must have been bewildered by the transpositions ; 
 perhaps she wondered what upon earth it all meant ; but 
 she said, " And did you do all that yourself? " with an air 
 of serious admiration which made my heart glow. After 
 supper, Neighbor Niles came in, and I must read the 
 exercises all over again for her benefit, my mother every 
 now and then nodding to her and whispering, " All his 
 own doing." 
 
 " It 's a deal for a boy o' his age," said Neighbor Niles ; 
 " though, for my part, I 've got so little book-larnin', that I 
 can't make head nor tail of it. Neither my old man nor 
 my boys takes to sich things. Brother Dan'l, him that 
 went out to the backwoods, you know, comin' ten year next 
 spring, he writ some verses once't on the death of 'Lijah 
 Sykes, cousin by the mother's side, that was but I dis 
 remember 'em, only the beginnin' : 
 
 " Little did his parents think, and little did his parents know, 
 That he should so soon be called for to go." 
 
 If Dan'l 'd ha' had proper schoolin', he might ha' been the 
 schollard o' the fam'ly. When Johnny gits a little furder, 
 I should n't wonder if he could write somethin' about my 
 Becky Jane, somethin' short and takin', that we could
 
 JOHN 3ODFREVS FOUTLNES. 37 
 
 have cut on her tombstone. You know it costs three cent* 
 a letter." 
 
 " Think of that, Johnny ! " cried my mother, trium- 
 phantly : " if you could do that, now ! Why, people would 
 read it long after you and I are dead and gone ! " 
 
 My ambition was instantly kindled to produce, in the 
 course of time, a " short and takin' " elegy on Becky Jane. 
 This was my first glimpse of a possible immortality. I 
 looked forward to the day when my fame should be estab- 
 lished in every household of the Cross-Keys, to be freshly 
 revived whenever there was a funeral, and the inscriptions 
 on the tombstones were dutifully read. Perhaps, even, I 
 might be heard of in Honeybrook, and down the Phila- 
 delphia road as far as Snedikersville ! There was no end 
 to the conceit in my abilities which took possession of me ; 
 I doubt whether it has ever since then been so powerful. 
 When I went into the garden the next morning, I looked 
 with contempt at the little corner behind the snowball- 
 bush. What a boy I had been but a few weeks ago ! and 
 now I was a man, or the next thing to it. I instinctively 
 straightened myself in my new boots, and felt either cheek 
 carefully, in the hope of finding a nascent down ; but. alas . 
 none was perceptible. Bob Simmons told me in confidence, 
 the last time we met, that the hostler at the Cross- Keys hud 
 shaved both him and Jackson lieanor, and had predicted 
 that he would soon have a beard. I must wait another 
 year, I feared, for this evidence of approaching manhood. 
 
 Bob, I found, was not to commence his apprenticeship 
 until early in the spring. I longed to see him and talk 
 over my school experiences, but I was not thoughtless 
 enough to leave mother during my first Sunday at home, 
 especially as I saw that the dear little woman was becom- 
 ing more and more reconciled to the change. The daj 
 was passed in a grateful quiet, and we went early to bed, 
 in order that I might rise by daybreak, and be ready to 
 join Charley Rand.
 
 38 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 Thus week after week of the new life went by, until th 
 pangs of change were conquered to both of us. I began tc 
 put forth new shoots, like a young tree that has been taker 
 from a barren hill-side and set in the deep, mellow soil of a 
 garden. My progress for a time was astonishing, for all 
 the baffled desires of my later childhood became so many 
 impelling forces. Mother soon ceased to be the oracle she 
 had once been ; but I think she felt this (if, indeed, she 
 was aware of it) as one joy the more. Her hope was to 
 look up to and be guided by me. She possessed simply 
 the power of enduring adverse circumstances, not the 
 energy necessary to transform them. In my advancement 
 she saw her own release from a maternal responsibility, 
 always oppressive, though so patiently and cheerfully borne. 
 
 The books I required were an item which had been over 
 looked in her estimate of the expenses, and we had many 
 long and anxious consultations on this subject. I procured 
 a second-hand geometry, at half-price, from Walton, the 
 young man who taught for his board, and so got on with 
 ny mathematics ; but there seemed no hope of my being 
 ible to join the Latin class, for which three new books were 
 required, at the start. By Christmas, however, mother 
 raised the necessary funds, having obtained, as I afterwards 
 discovered, a small advance upon the annual interest of the 
 fifteen hundred dollars, which was not due until April. This 
 money had been placed in the hands of her brother-in-law, 
 Mr. Amos Woolley, a grocer, in Reading, for investment 
 She had never before asked for any part of the sum in ad- 
 vance, and I suspect it was not obtained without some dif- 
 ficulty. 
 
 Dr. Dymond was too old a teacher to let his preferences 
 be noticed by the scholars, but I knew that both he and 
 Miss Hitchcock were kindly disposed towards me. He was 
 fond of relating anecdotes of Franklin, Ledyard, Fulton, 
 and other noted men who had risen from obscurity, and in- 
 citing his pupils to imitate them. Whatever fame the lattei
 
 JOHX GODFREY'S FORTUNES. SI 
 
 might achieve tvould of course be reflected upon him and his 
 school. The older boys who were mostly plodding youths 
 of limited means, ambitious of culture were also friendly 
 and encouraging, and I associated almost exclusively with 
 them. The pranks of the younger ones were no longer 
 formidable, since there was so little opportunity of their 
 practical application to me. I had spirit enough to resent 
 imposition, and my standing as a scholar prevented me from 
 becoming a butt suitable for torment : so, upon the whole, 
 I was tolerably happy and satisfied, even without the exist- 
 ence of an intimate friendship. My childish faith in the 
 truth and goodness of everybody had not yet been shaken. 
 
 Punctually, every Saturday afternoon, Charley and I re- 
 turned to the Cross-Keys, on foot when the weather was 
 good, and in Mr. Rand's " rockaway " when there was rain 
 or mud. For three weeks in succession the sleighing was 
 excellent, and then we had the delight of a ride both ways, 
 once (shall I ever forget it?) packed in with the entire 
 Rand family, Emily, Charley, and myself on the front seat, 
 with our arms around each other to keep from tumbling off. 
 Emily was very gracious on this occasion ; I suppose my 
 blue cap and gray jacket made a difference. She wore a 
 crimson merino dress, which I thought the loveliest thing I 
 had ever seen, and the yellow ringlets gushed out on either 
 side of her face, from under the warm woollen hood. We 
 went home in the twinkling of an eye, and I forgot my car- 
 pet-bag, on reaching the front gate, but Charley flung it 
 into Niles's yard. 
 
 I find myself lingering on these little incidents of my 
 boyhood, clinging to that free, careless, confident period, 
 as if reluctant to inarch forward into the region of disen- 
 chantments. The experiences of boys differ perhaps as 
 widely as those of men, but they float on a narrow stream, 
 and, though some approach one bank and some the other, 
 the same features are visible to all. How different from 
 the open sea, where millions of keels pass and repass daj
 
 40 JOHN GODFREY'S tfORTDNES. 
 
 and night, rarely touching the moving circles of each other*! 
 horizons, some sailing in belts of prosperous wind, be- 
 tween the tracks of tempest, some foundering alone, just 
 out of sight of the barks that would have flown to their res- 
 cue ! I must not forget that the details of my early history 
 are naturally more interesting to myself than to the reader 
 and that he is no more likely to deduce the character of my 
 later fortunes from them than I was at the time. Even in 
 retrospect, we cannot always decipher the history of our 
 Jives. The Child is Father of the Man, it is true : but few 
 sons are like their fathers. 
 
 The only circumstance which has left a marked impres- 
 sion upon my memory occurred towards the close of the 
 winter. Both Dr. Dymond and Miss Hitchcock were 
 obliged to leave the school one afternoon, on account of 
 some important occurrence in Honeybrook, I think a fu- 
 neral, though it may have been a wedding. Walton was 
 therefore placed at the central desk, on the platform, and 
 we were severely enjoined to preserve order during the ab- 
 sence of the principal. We sat very quietly until the Doc- 
 tor's carriage was seen to drive away from the door, where- 
 upon Thornton, Rand, and a number of the other restless, 
 mischievous spirits began to perk up their heads, exchange 
 winks and grins, and betray other symptoms of revolt. 
 Walton knew what was coming : he was a meek, amiable 
 fellow, sweating under his responsibility, and evidently be- 
 wildered as to the course he ought to pursue. He knit his 
 brows and tried to look very severe ; but it was a pitiful sham, 
 which deceived nobody. Thornton, who had beeij dodging 
 about and whispering among his accomplices, immediately 
 imitated poor Walton's expression. The corrugation of his 
 brows was something preternatural. The others copied his 
 example, and the aspect of the school was most ludicrous. 
 Still, theie had been no palpable violation of the rules, and 
 Walton was puzzled what to do. To notice the caricature 
 would be to acknowledge its correctness. He dre w his lefl
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 41 
 
 shoulder up against his ear and thrust his right hand intc 
 his back hair, a habit which was known to the school. A 
 dozen young scamps at once did the same thing, but with 
 extravagant contortions and grimaces. 
 
 The effect was irresistible. There was a rustling and 
 ghaking of suppressed laughter from one end of the school- 
 room to the other the first throes of an approaching 
 chaos. For the life of me, I could not help joining in it. 
 though sympathizing keenly with Walton's painful position. 
 Ihs face flushed scarlet as he looked around the room ; but 
 the next instant he became very pale, stood up, and after 
 one or two convulsive efforts to find a voice, which was 
 very unsteady when it came, addressed us. 
 
 " Boys," said he, " you know this is n't right I did n't 
 take Dr. Dymond's place of my own choice. I have n't got 
 his authority over you, but you 'd be orderly if he was here, 
 and he 's asked you to be it while he 's away. It 's his rule 
 you 're breaking, not mine. I can't force you to keep it, 
 but I can say you 're wrong in not doing it I 'm here to 
 help any of you in your studies as far as I can, and I '11 at- 
 tend to that part faithfully if you '11 all do your share in 
 keeping order." 
 
 He delivered these sentences slowly, making a long pause 
 between each. The scholars were profoundly silent and 
 attentive. Thornton and some of the others tried a few 
 additional winks and grimaces, but they met \*ith no en- 
 couragement ; we were waiting to see what vould come 
 next When Walton finally sat down he had evidently lit- 
 tle hope that his words would produce much effect ; and 
 indeed there was no certainty that the temporary quiet 
 would be long preserved. 
 
 We were all, therefore, not a little startle*! when Pen- 
 rose suddenly arose from his seat and said, in a clear, firm 
 voice, "I am sure I speak the sentiments of all my fel- 
 low-scholars, Mr. Walton, when I say that we will 
 order."
 
 12 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 The older boys nodded their assent and resumed then 
 studies. Thornton hung down his head, and seemed to 
 have quite lost his spirits for the rest of the day. But the 
 business of the school went on like clock-work. I don't 
 think we ever had so quiet an afternoon.
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 4S 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 CONTAINING KKATS IX THE CKLLAR AND CONVERSATIONS 
 UPON THE ROOF. 
 
 WITH the end of March the winter term of the school 
 came to a close. I had established my position as an apt 
 and rapidly advancing scholar ; others had the start of me. 
 but no one made better progress. I had mastered, among 
 other things, Geometry and a Latin epitome of Sacred His- 
 tory. The mystic words " Deus creacit c<elum et terrain" 
 which I had approached with wonder and reverence, as 
 if they had been thundered out of an unseen world, were 
 now become as simple and familiar as anything in Peter 
 Parley. Miss Hitchcock, with the air of a queen conferring 
 the order of the Shower-Bath, promised me Cornelius Ne- 
 pos and Fluxions for the summer term ; and Dr. Dymond 
 hinted to the composition-class that we might soon try our 
 hands at original essays. Something was also said about a 
 debating club. The^ perspective lengthened and brightened 
 with every forward step. 
 
 The close of the term was signalized by a school exhi- 
 bition, to which were invited the relatives of the pupils and 
 the principal personages in Honeybrook. two clergymen, 
 the doctor, the " squire," the teacher of the common school, 
 and six retired families of independent means. To mosl 
 of us b'yjs it was both a proud and solemn occasion. I was 
 bent upon having mother to witness my performance, and 
 hoped she could come with the Rands, but their biggest 
 and best carriage would hold no more than themselves. 
 At the last moment Neighbor Niles made the offer of UP
 
 14 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 ancient horse and vehicle, which she used for her on n oc 
 casional visits in the neighborhood. As the- horse had fre- 
 quently been known to stop in the road, but never, of his 
 own will, to go faster than a creeping walk, it was con- 
 sidered safe for mother to drive him over alone and take 
 ne home with her for my month's vacation. 
 
 At the appointed time she made her appearance, dressed 
 in the brown silk that dated from her wedded days, and the 
 venerable crape shawl which had once covered the shoul- 
 ders of Aunt Christina. She was quite overawed on being 
 presented to Dr. Dymond and Miss Hitchcock, but made 
 speedy acquaintance with Mother Dymond, and, indeed, 
 took a seat beside her in the front row of spectators. The 
 exercises were very simple. Specimens of our penmanship 
 and geometrical diagrams (which few of the guests under- 
 stood) were exhibited ; we were drilled in mental arithme- 
 tic, and answered chemical, pneumatic, hydraulic, and astro- 
 nomical questions. But the crowning pride and interest of 
 the day was reserved for the declamations, in which at least 
 half the pupils took part. From the classic contents of the 
 " Columbian Orator," we selected passages from Robert 
 Emmet, William Pitt, Patrick Henry, and Cicero ; Byron, 
 Joel Barlow, and Milton ; Addison and Red Jacket. Dr. 
 Dymond assigned to me the part of" David," from Hannah 
 More's dramatic poem. I did n't quite like to be addressed 
 as " girl ! " by Bill Dawson, the biggest boy in the school, 
 who was Goliath, or to be told to 
 
 "Go, 
 
 And hold fond dalliance with the Syrian maids : 
 To wanton measures dance; and let them braid 
 The bright luxuriance of thy golden hair," 
 
 especially as Thornton and the younger fellows snickered 
 when he came to the last line. My hair might still have 
 had a reddish tinge where the sun struck across it, but it 
 was growing darker from year to year. I gave it back to 
 Goliath, however, when it came to my turn to say,
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 45 
 
 " I do defy thee, 
 Thou foul idolater! " 
 
 or when, dilating into prophecy, I screamed, 
 
 " Nor thee alone, 
 
 The mangled carcasses of your thick hosts 
 Shall spread the plains of Elah ! " 
 
 I think I produced an effect. I know that mother looked 
 triumphant when I swung a piece of leather with nothing 
 in it, and Bill Dawson tumbled full length on the platform, 
 occasioning mild exclamations and shuddering among the 
 female spectators ; and I fancied that Emily Rand (in the 
 crimson merino) must have been favorably impressed. I 
 certainly made a better appearance than Charley, who 
 rushed through his share of the debate in the Roman Sen- 
 ate, in this wise, 
 
 ^I \thoughtslmustconfessareturnedonpeace.'' 
 
 The great, the auspicious day of Cato and of Rome came 
 to an end. I said good-bye to the boys : Caruthers was go- 
 ing off to his carpenter-work, and would not return. I liked 
 him and was sorry to lose him. We never met again, but 
 I have since heard of him as State senator in a Western 
 capital. Even the dark eyes of Penrose looked upon me 
 kindly as he shook hands, bestowing a side-bow, as he did 
 so, upon my mother. Miss Hitchcock gave me a parting 
 injunction of ' Remember, Godfrey ! Fluxions and Cor- 
 nelius Nepos ! " and so we climbed into the creaking vehi- 
 cle and set. off homewards. 
 
 We might have walked with much more speed and com- 
 fort The horse took up and put down his feet as gently 
 as if he were suffering from corns ; at the least rise in the 
 road he stopped, looked around at us, and seemed to expect 
 us to alight, heaving a deep sigh when forced to resume his 
 march. Then he had an insane desire of walking in the 
 gutter on the left side of the road, and all my jerking of 
 the reins and flourishing of a short dogwood switch pro- 
 duced not the slightest effect. He merely whisked his
 
 46 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 stumpy tail, as much as to say, ' That for you ! We 
 reached the Cross-Keys at last, long after sunset ; but the 
 abominable beast, who had been so ready to stop anywhere 
 on the way, now utterly refused to be pulled up at our gate, 
 and mother was obliged to ride on to the bars it the end 
 of Niles's lane, before she could get down. Our good 
 Neighbor thereupon sallied out and took us in to tea ; so 
 the end of the journey was pleasant. 
 
 The vacation came at a fortunate time. I succeeded in 
 getting our garden into snug trim : the peas were stuck and 
 the cabbages set out before my summer term commenced ; 
 nor were the studies neglected which I had purposed to 
 continue at home. Bob Simmons had finally left, and 1 
 missed him sadly : Rand's great house, whither I was now 
 privileged to go occasionally, with even the attraction of 
 Emily, could not fill up the void left by his departure. I 
 was not sorry when the month drew to an end. The little 
 cottage seemed to have grown strangely quiet and lonely , 
 my nest under the roof lost its charm, except when the 
 April rains played a pattering lullaby upon the shingles ; 
 looking forward to Cornelius Nepos and Fluxions, I no 
 longer heard my mother's antiquated stories with the same 
 boyish relish, and something of this new unrest must have 
 betrayed itself in my habits. I never, in fact, thought of 
 concealing it never dreamed that my mind, in breaking 
 away from the government of home ideas and associa- 
 tions, could give a pang to the loving heart, for which I 
 was all, but which, seemingly, was not all for me. 
 
 I returned to Dr. Dymond's with the assured, confident 
 air of a boy who knows the ground upon which he stands. 
 My relations with the principal had been agreeable from 
 the commencement, and the contact with my fellow-stu- 
 dents had long since ceased to inspire me with shyness or 
 dread. I had many moderate friendships among them, but 
 was strongly attracted towards none, except, perhaps, him 
 whose haughty coldness repelled me. I was a t a loss, then, to
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 47 
 
 comprehend this magnetism : now it has ceased to be obscure 
 I was impressed, far more powerfully than I suspected, by 
 his physical beauty. Had those short, full, clearly-cut lips 
 smiled upon me, I should not have questioned whether the 
 words that came from them were good or evil. His influ- 
 ence over me might have been boundless, if he had so 
 willed it but he did not. The tenderer shoots of feeling 
 were nipped as fast as they put forth. He was always just 
 and considerate, and perhaps as communicative towards 
 myself as towards any of the other boys ; but this was 
 far from being a frank, cordial companionship. His reti- 
 cence, however, occasionally impressed me as not being 
 entirely natural ; there was about him an air of some sad 
 premature experience of life. 
 
 Few of the quiet, studious, older pupils remained during 
 the summer, while there was an accession of younger ones, 
 principally from Philadelphia. The tone of our society 
 thus became gay and lively, even romping, at times. I 
 was heartily fond of sport, and I now gave myself up to it 
 wholly during play-hours. I was always ready for a game 
 of ball on the green ; for a swim in the shallow upper part 
 of Honeybrook Pond ; for an excursion to the clearings 
 where wild strawberries grew ; for not at first, I honestly 
 declare, and not without cowardly terrors and serious 
 twinges of conscience for a midnight descent into the 
 cellar, a trembling groping in the dark until the pies were 
 found, and then a rapid transfer of a brace of them to our 
 attic. The perils of the latter exploit made it fearfully at- 
 tractive. Had the pies been of the kind which we abonri- 
 lated, dried-apple, we should have stolen them all the 
 game. Nay, such is trie natural depravity of the human 
 heart, that no pies were so good (or ever have been since) 
 as those which we divided on the top of a trunk, and ate 
 by moonlight, sitting in our shirts. 
 
 The empty dishes of course told the tale, and before 
 many days a stout wooden grating was erected across tttfl
 
 48 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 cellar, in front of the pastry shelves. This device mereh 
 stimulated our ingenuity. Various plans were suggested 
 and finally two of the boldest boys volunteered to descend 
 and test a scheme of their own. They were absent half 
 an hour, and we were beginning to be more amused thau 
 apprehensive at their stay, when they appeared with the 
 coveted pies in their arms. They had secreted matches 
 and a bit of candle, found the oven-shovel, and thrust it 
 through the grating, after which it was an easy matter t< 
 reach the dish, withdraw the pie perpendicularly, and re- 
 place the dish on the shelf. I fancy Mother Dymond must 
 have opened her silly eyes unusually wide the next morning. 
 The enemy now adopted a change of tactics which came 
 near proving disastrous. Thornton and myself were chosen 
 for the next night's foray. We had safely descended the 
 stairs (which would creak tremendously, however lightly you 
 stepped), and I, as the leader, commenced feeling my way 
 in the dark across the dining-room, when I came unexpect- 
 edly upon a delicately piled pyramid of chairs. I no sooner 
 touched the pile than down it crashed, with the noise of ar- 
 tillery. Thornton whisked out of the door and up-stairs 
 like a cat, I following, completely panic-struck. I was none 
 too quick, for another door suddenly opened into the pas- 
 sage and the light of a lamp struck vengefully up after us. 
 By this time I had cleared the first flight, and all that Dr. 
 Dymond could have seen of me was the end of a flag of 
 truce fluttering across the landing-place. He gave chase 
 very nimbly for his years, but I increased the advantage 
 already gained, and was over head and ears in bed b 3 the 
 time he had reached the attic-floor. Thornton was already 
 snoring. The Doctor presently made his appearance in 
 his dressing-gown, evidently rather puzzled. He looked 
 from bed to bed, and beheld only the innocent sleep, knit- 
 ting up the ravelled sleave of care. If he had been familiar 
 with Boccaccio (a thing not to be fora moment suspected), 
 he might have tried the stratagem of King Agilulf witb
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 49 
 
 triumphant success. Even the test which Lady Derby ap- 
 plied to Fenella might have been sufficient. I fancy, how- 
 ever, that he felt silly in being foiled, and thought only of 
 retreating with dignity. 
 
 He finally broke silence by exclaiming, in a stern voice, 
 - Who was it? " 
 
 Bill Dawson. who had really been asleep, started, rubbed 
 his eyes, and finally sat up in bed, looking red and flustered. 
 The Doctor's face brightened ; he moved a step nearer to 
 Bill, and again asked : " Who made the disturbance ? " 
 
 "I I 'in sure I don't know," Bill stammered : ' I did 
 n't hear anything." 
 
 " You did not hear ? There was a dreadful racket, sir. 
 I thought the house was coming down. It roused me out 
 of my sleep " (as if he had not been watching in the ad- 
 joining room ! ) " and then I heard somebody running up 
 and down stairs. Take care, Dawson ; this .won't do." 
 
 Bill made a confused and incoherent protestation of in- 
 nocence, which the Doctor cut short by exclaiming : " Don't 
 let it happen again, sir ! " and vanishing with his lamp. 
 Whether he was really so little of a detective as to suspect 
 the first boy whom his voice brought to life, or merely made 
 use of Dawson as a telegraphic wire to transmit messages 
 to the rest of us, I will not decide. At dinner the follow- 
 ing day, and for several succeeding days, Bill was furnished, 
 in accordance with private instructions to the waiting-maids, 
 with an immense slice of pie, which he devoured in con- 
 vulsive haste. Dr. Dymond's sharp eye on him all the time, 
 and Dr. Dymond's thumbs revolving around each other at 
 double speed. It was great fun for us, although it put a 
 stop to our midnight excursions to the cellar. 
 
 A few weeks later, however, we found a substitute which 
 was more innocent, although quite as irregular. The 
 weather had become very hot, and our attic was so insuffer- 
 ably close find sultry that we not only kept the window open 
 all night, but kicked off the bedclothes. Frequently one
 
 50 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES, 
 
 or the other of us, unable to sleep, would sit in the window 
 and cool his heated body. And so it happened one night, 
 when we were all tossing restlessly and exchanging lamen- 
 tations, that Thornton's voice called in to us from the outer 
 air, I say, boys, come out here ; it 's grand." 
 
 The roof of the house was but slightly pitched, with a 
 broad gutter at the bottom. Thornton had stepped into 
 this and walked up to the comb, where he sat in his breezy 
 drapery, leaning against a chimney. The prospect was sf 
 tempting that all of us who were awake followed him. 
 
 It was a glorious summer night. The moon, steeped in 
 hazy warmth, swam languidly across the deep violet sky, in 
 which only the largest stars faintly sparkled. The poplar 
 leaves rocked to and fro on their twisted stems and coun- 
 terfeited a pleasant breeze, though but the merest breath 
 of air was stirring. Stretching away to the south and 
 southwest, the whole basin of the valley was visible, its 
 features massed and balanced with a breadth and beauty 
 which the sun could never give. The single spire of Ilon- 
 eybrook rose in darker blue above the shimmering pearly 
 gray of the distance, and a streak of purest silver was 
 drawn across the bosom of the pond. Those delicate, vol- 
 atile perfumes of grass and leaves and earth which are 
 only called forth by night and dew, filled the air. On such 
 a night, our waste of beauty in the unconsciousness of slum- 
 ber seems little less than sin. 
 
 We crowded together, sitting on the sharp comb (which, 
 gradually cutting into the unprotected flesh, suggested the 
 advantage of being a cherub) or lying at full length on the 
 gentle slope of the roof, and unanimously declared that it 
 was better than bed. Our young brains were warmed and 
 our fancies stimulated by the poetic influences of the night. 
 We wondered whether the moon was inhabited, and if so, 
 what sort of people they were ; and finally, whether the 
 lunar school-boys played ball, and bought pea-nuts with 
 their pocket-money, and stole pies.
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 51 
 
 " By George ! " exclaimed one of the composition -class. 
 u that 's a good idea ! Next week, the Doctor says, we may 
 choose our own subjects to write about. Now I 'm going 
 to write about the inhabitants of the moon, because, you 
 know, a fellow can say just what he pleases, and who 's to 
 prove it may n't be true ? " 
 
 " I guess I '11 write a poem, or a tragedy, or something 
 of that sort," said Brotherton, sticking up one leg into the 
 air as he lay upon his back. 
 
 " What is a tragedy ? " asked Jones. 
 
 "Pshaw! don't you know that?" broke in Thornton, 
 with an air of contempt. " They 're played in the theatres. 
 I 've seen 'em. Where the people get stabbed, or poisoned, 
 and everything comes out dreadful at the end, it 's tragedy ; 
 and where they laugh all the time, and play tricks, and get 
 married, and wind up comfortable, it 's comedy." 
 
 " But I was at the theatre once," said Brotherton, " and 
 two of them were killed, and he and she got married for 
 all that. I tell you, she was a beauty ! Now, what would 
 you call that sort of a play ? " 
 
 " Why, a comic tragedy, to be sure," answered Thornton. 
 
 " Where do the theatres get them ? " 
 
 " Oh, they have men hired to write them," Thornton 
 continued, proud of a chance to show his superior knowl- 
 edge. " My brother Eustace told me all about it. He 's a 
 lawyer, and has an office of his own in Seventh Street. He 
 knows one of the men, and I know him too, but I forget 
 his name. I was in Eustace's office one afternoon when he 
 came ; he had a cigar in his mouth ; he was a tragedician. 
 A tragedician 's a man that writes only tragedies. Comedi- 
 ci.uis write comedies ; it 's great fun to know them. The) 
 can mimic anybody they choose, and change their faces intc 
 a hundred different shapes." 
 
 " How much do they get paid for their tragedies ? " asked 
 the inquisitive Jones. 
 
 " Very likely a hundred dollars a piece," I suggested.
 
 52 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 a A hundred dollars ! " sneered Thornton ; u tell that U 
 the marines ! Why, I suppose my brother Eustace could 
 write one a day,- he writes like a book, I tell you, and 
 he 'd make tragedies quick enough, at that price. We had 
 a boy, once, in father's store, that swept and made fires, 
 and he went into the theatre for a soldier in the fighting- 
 plays, for two dollars a week, uniforms found. I should 
 think if a regular tragedician got twenty dollars a week, 
 he 'd be lucky." 
 
 " Why don't your brother write them ? " I asked. 
 
 " He ? Oh, he could do it easy, but I guess it is n't 
 exactly respectable. A lawyer, you know, is as good as any 
 man." 
 
 " Shut up, you little fool ! " exclaimed a clear, deep voice, 
 so good-humored in tone that we were slightly startled, not 
 immediately recognizing Penrose, who had come up on the 
 other side of the dormer-window, and was seated in the 
 hip of the roof. His shirt was unbuttoned and the collar 
 thrown back, revealing a noble neck and breast, and his 
 slender, symmetrical legs shone in the moonlight like 
 golden-tinted marble. His lips were parted in the sensu- 
 ous delight of the balmy air-bath, and his eyes shone like 
 dark fire in the shadow of his brows. I thought I had 
 never seen any human being so beautiful. 
 
 " You forget, Oliver," he continued, in a kindly though 
 patronizing tone, *' that Shakspeare was a writer of trage- 
 dies." 
 
 " I know, Penrose," Thornton meekly answered, " tluil 
 Shakspeare was a great man. His books are in im 
 brother's library at the office in Seventh Street, but 1 'v 
 never read any of 'em. Eustace says I could n't under 
 stand 'em yet" 
 
 " Nor he, either, I dare say," Penrose remarked. 
 
 " Boys," he added, after a pause, " Brotherton has had 
 an idea, and now I 've got one. This is a good time and 
 place for selecting our themes ibr composition. We are in
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 53 
 
 the higher regions of the atmosphere, and where the air 
 expands 1 should n't wonder if the brain expanded too 
 Moonlight brings out our thoughts. Who 'd have supposed 
 that Thornton knew so much about ' tragedicians ' and 
 comedicians ' ?" 
 
 We all laughed, even Thornton himself, although he 
 was n't sure but that Penrose might be " chaffing " him 
 The latter's suggestion was at once taken up, and the 
 themes discussed and adopted. I believe mine was '" The 
 Influence of Nature," or something of the kind. 
 
 " Why could n't we get up a Fourth-of-July Celebration 
 among ourselves ? We have lots of talent," Penrose 
 further suggested, in a mocking tone ; but we took it seri- 
 
 O~ O 
 
 ously and responded with great enthusiasm. We appealed 
 to him as an authority for the order of exercises, each out 
 anxious for a prominent part 
 
 "It might do, after all," he said, reflectively ; " they 
 usually arrange it so : First, prayer ; that 's Dr. Dymond, 
 of course, always provided he 's willing. Then, reading the 
 Declaration ; we want a clear, straightforward reader for 
 that" 
 
 - You 're the very fellow ! " exclaimed Thornton. We 
 all thought and said the same thing. 
 
 " Well I should n't mind it for once, so you don't ask 
 me to spout and make pump-handles of my arms. That 's 
 fixed, we '11 say. What 's next ? Song ' The Star- 
 Spangled Banner,' of course ; hard to sing, but four voices 
 will do, if we can get no more. Then the Oration ; don't 
 all speak at once ! I think, on the whole, Marsh would do 
 tolerably." 
 
 Marsh is n't here," Jones interrupted. 
 
 " What if he is n't ! Are we to have a school celebra- 
 tion, or only a fi'penny-bit concern, got up by this bare- 
 legged committee, holding a secret session on the Academy 
 roof? Let me alone till I 've finished, and then say and 
 do what you please. Oration after that, recitation erf
 
 
 54 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 What-d'-you-call-him's ' Ode to the American Eagle ' ; one 
 or two more addresses short to give the other Daniel 
 Websters a chance; then, we ought to have an original 
 poem, but who 'd write it ? " 
 
 This seemed to us beyond the combined powers of the 
 school. We were silent, and Penrose continued. 
 
 " I don't know about that, I 'in sure. But it 's part of 
 the regular programme, no gentleman's Fourth of July 
 complete without it If Godfrey would try, perhaps he 
 might grind out something." 
 
 " Godfrey ? " and " Me ? " were simultaneous exclama- 
 tions, uttered by Jones, Brotherton, and myself. 
 
 "Yes, I can't think of anybody else. You could try 
 your hand at the thing, Godfrey, and show it to Dr. Dy- 
 mond. He '11 put a stopper on you if you don't do credit 
 to the school. There 's nothing else that I know of, ex- 
 cept a song to wind up with ; ' Old Hundred ' would do. 
 But before anything more is done, we must let the rest of 
 the boys know ; that 's all I 've got to say." 
 
 While the others eagerly entered into a further discus- 
 sion of the matter, I rolled over on the roof and gave my- 
 self up to a fascinating reverie about the proposed poem. 
 How grand, how glorious, I thought, if I could really do 
 such a thing ! if I could imitate, though at a vast dis- 
 tance, the majestic march of Barlow's " Vision of Colum- 
 bus " ! " Marco Bozzaris " I considered hopelessly beyond 
 my powers. The temptation and the dread were about 
 equally balanced ; but the idea was like a tropical sand- 
 flea. It had got under my skin, and the attempt to dis- 
 lodge it opened the germs of a hundred others. I had 
 never seriously tried my hand at rhyme, for the school-boy 
 doggerel in which - Honeybrook " was coupled with " funny 
 brook " and " Dy niond " with " priming," was contemptible 
 stuff. I am glad that the foregoing terminations are all 
 that I remember of it 
 
 It was long past midnight before the excitement sub
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 55 
 
 aided. Two boys, who had meanwhile gone to sleep on 
 their backs, with their faces to the moon, were aroused 
 and we returned through the window. I got into bed, 
 already linking " glory " with " story," though still trem- 
 bliugly uncertain of my ability. 
 
 " Oh, Penrose," I whispered, as I lay down beside my 
 bedfellow, " do you really think I can do it ? " 
 
 " Don't bother me ! " was all the encouragement he gave 
 tli en or afterwards. 
 
 Our airy conclaves were repeated nightly, as long as the 
 warm weather lasted. The boys in the other rooms were 
 let into the secret, and issued from their respective win- 
 dows to join us. I remember as many as twenty-five, 
 scattered about in various picturesque and sculpturesque 
 attitudes. Dr. Dymond, apparently, did not suspect this 
 new device : if we sometimes fell asleep over our books in 
 the afternoon, the sultry weather, of course, was to blame. 
 We afterwards learned, however, that we had been once 
 or twice espied by late travellers on the neighboring high- 
 way. 
 
 The plan of our patriotic celebration matured and was 
 finally carried out in a modified form. Our principal made 
 no objection, and accepted our programme, with a few 
 slight changes, such as the substitution of the Rev. Mr. 
 Langworthy, of Honeybrook, for himself, in the matter of 
 the prayer. There was some competition in regard to the 
 orations, but Marsh justified Penrose's judgment by pro- 
 ducing the best. No one competed with me, nor do I 
 believe that any one supposed I would be successful. It 
 was a terrible task. I had both ardor and ambition, but 
 a very limited vocabulary, and, unfortunately, an ear for the 
 cadences of poetry far in advance of my power to create 
 them. After trying the heroic and failing utterly, I at 
 last hit upon an easy Hemans-y form of verse, which I 
 soon learned to manage. I was very well satisfied witfc 
 the result. It was a glorification of the Revolutionaij
 
 56 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 heroes, in eight-line stanzas, with a refrain, which is th 
 only portion of it I can remember, 
 
 " Give honor to our fathers' name, 
 
 Strike up the glorious lay: 
 Sound high for them the trump of fame, 
 'Tis Freedom's natal day! " 
 
 " Not bad, not bad," said Dr. Dymond, when he had fin 
 ished reading this effusion, and I stood waiting^ with fast- 
 beating heart, to hear his decision. " ' Great oaks fron? 
 little acorns grow,' even if the acorn is not perfectly round. 
 Ha ! " he continued, smiling at the smartness of his own 
 remark, " the Academy has never yet turned out a poet. 
 We have two Members of Congress and several clergy- 
 men, but we are not yet represented in the world of let- 
 ters. It is my rule to encourage native genius, not to 
 suppress it ; so I '11 give you a chance this time, Godfrey. 
 Mind, I don't say that you are, or can be, a genuine poet ; 
 if it 's in you, it will come out some day, and when that day 
 comes, remember that I did n't crush it in the bud. These 
 verses are fair, very fair, indeed. They might be pruned 
 to advantage, here and there, but you can very well repeat 
 them as they are, only changing ' was ' into ' were,' sub- 
 junctive mood, you know, and ' them ' into ' they ' 
 ' did ' understood. The line will read so : 
 " ' If 't were given to us to fight as they.' 
 
 And, of course, you must change the rhyme. ' Diadem 
 must come out : put ' ray ' (' of glory,' understood), or 
 America poetic license of pronunciation. I could teach 
 you the laws which govern literary performances, but it is 
 not included in the design of my school." 
 
 Miss Hitchcock would have preferred one of the classic 
 metres, only I was not far enough advanced to compre- 
 hend them. She repeated to me Coleridge's translation 
 of Schiller's illustrations of hexameter and pentameter. 
 I thought they must be very fine, because T had not the 
 'east idea of the meaning.
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 57 
 
 When 1 took the verses home to mother, she thonghl 
 them almost as good as "Alcanzor and Zayda." the only 
 poem she knew. I was obliged to make her an elegant 
 copy, in my best hand, which she kept between the leaves 
 of the family Bible, and read aloud in an old-fashioned 
 chant to Neighbor Niles or any other female gossip. 
 
 When the celebration came off, the effect I produced 
 was flattering. The excitement of the occasion made my 
 declamation earnest and impassioned, and the verdict of 
 the boys was that it was " prime." Penrose merely nodded 
 to me when I sat down, as if confirming the wisdom of his 
 own suggestion. I was obliged to be satisfied with what- 
 ever praise the gesture implied, for I got nothing else
 
 58 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES, 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 WHICH BRINGS A STERNER CHANGE IN MY FORTUNES. 
 
 IT is scarcely necessary to say that I was both proud and 
 vain of the little distinction I had achieved. My pulse 
 began Lo flutter with COY expectation whenever any of the 
 boys mentioned the poem, which happened several times 
 during the two succeeding days. I was backward to say 
 much about it myself, but I dearly liked to hear others 
 talk, except when they declared, as Bill Dawson did, " Oh, 
 he got it out of some book or other." It was the author's 
 experience in miniature, extravagant praise, conceit, cen- 
 sure, exasperation, indifference. 
 
 Of course, I made other and more ambitious essays. 
 Several of the boys caught the infection, and for a fort- 
 night the quantity of dislocated metre, imperfect rhyme, and 
 perfect trash produced in the Honeybrook Academy was 
 something fearful. Brotherton attempted an epic on the 
 discovery of America, which he called " The Columbine " ; 
 Marsh wrote a long didactic and statistical poem on " The 
 Wonders of Astronomy " ; while Jones, in whom none of 
 us had previously detected the least trace of sentiment, 
 brought forth, with much labor, a lamentable effusion, 
 entitled, " The Deserted Maiden," commencing, 
 
 44 He has left me : oh, what sadness, 
 What reflections fill my breast ! " 
 
 Gradually, however, the malady, like measles or small- 
 pox, ran its course and died out, except in my own case, 
 which threatened to become chronic. My progress in the
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 59 
 
 graver studies was somewhat interrupted thereby, but I 
 prosecuted Latin with ardor, tempted by the promise of 
 Virgil, and began to crave a higher literary culture. I am 
 aot sure but that it was a fortunate accident which turned 
 my mind in this direction. The course of study at Honey- 
 brook was neither thorough nor methodical. A piece of 
 knowledge was hacked off this or that branch, and thrown 
 to us in lumps. There was a lack of some solvent or as- 
 similating element, to equalize our mental growth, and my 
 new ambition, to a certain extent, supplied the need. 
 
 A week or so after the Fourth, three of us had permis- 
 sion to go to Honeybrook during the noon recess. My 
 errand was to buy a lead-pencil for three cents, and Thorn- 
 ton's to spend his liberal supply of pocket-money in pea- 
 nuts and candy, which he generously shared with us. As 
 we were returning up the main street, we paused to look 
 at a new brick house, an unusual sight in the quiet 
 village, the walls of which had just reached the second 
 story. A ringing cry of " Mort ! " at the same moment 
 came from an active workman, who was running up one of 
 the corners. I recognized the voice, and cried out in great 
 joy, " Bob ! oh, Bob, is that you ? " 
 
 He dropped his trowel, drew his dusty sleeve across his 
 brow to clear his eyes from the streaming sweat, and looked 
 down. The dear old fellow, what a grin of genuine de- 
 light spread over his face ! " Blast me if 't is n't John ! " 
 he cried. '' Why, John, how 're you gettin' on ? " 
 
 " Oh, finely, Bob," I answered ; " may I come up there 
 and shake hands with you ? " 
 
 " No ; I '11 come down." 
 
 He was down the gangway in three leaps, and gave me a 
 crushing grip of his hard, brick-dusted hand. " I 've only 
 got a minute." he said ; " the boss is comin' up the street. 
 How you 've growed ! and I hear you 're a famous scholar 
 already. Well you 're at your trade, and I 'm at mine. 
 I like it better 'n I thought I would. I can lay, and p'int
 
 fiO JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 and run up corners, right smart. "That 's my corner : is n't 
 it pretty tolerable straight ? " 
 
 I looked at it with the eye of a connoisseur, and re- 
 marked. " It's very well done, indeed. Bob." 
 
 " Well, good-bye. I 've got another thousand to lay be- 
 fore I knock off. Take care of yourself ! " 
 
 He was back on the scaffold in no time. My two com 
 panions, standing beside me, had witnessed our interview 
 with curiosity ; so I said, by way of explanation, as we 
 moved on, " It 's Bob Simmons ; he 's a first-rate fellow." 
 
 " A relation of yours, Godfrey ? " asked Thornton, rather 
 impertinently. 
 
 " Oh, no ! I wish he was. I have no relations except 
 mother, and my uncle and aunt in Reading." 
 
 " I 've got lots," Thornton asserted. " Six no, five 
 uncles and six aunts, and no end of cousins. I don't think 
 a fellow 's worth much that has n't got relations. Where 
 are you going to get your money if they don't leave it to 
 you?" 
 
 " I must earn mine," I said, though, I am ashamed to 
 say, with a secret feeling of humiliation, as I contrasted n\y 
 dependence with Thornton's assured position. 
 
 u Earn ? " sneered Thornton. " You '11 be no better than 
 that bricklayer. Catch me earning the money I spend ; 
 I "m going to be a gentleman ! " 
 
 I might here pause in the reminiscences of my school- 
 days, and point a moral from poor Thornton's after-fate, 
 but to what end ? Some destinies are congenital, and cut 
 their way straight through all the circumstances of life : 
 their end is involved in their beginning. Let me remem- 
 ber only the blooming face, the laughing eyes, and the 
 unny locks, nor imagine that later picture, which, thank 
 God ! /did not see. 
 
 Thornton did not fail to describe my interview with Bob. 
 with his own embellishments, after our return ; and some 
 of the boys, seeing that I was annoyed, tormented me with
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. I 
 
 ironical references to my friend. The annoyance was less 
 however, than it would have been in a more aristocratic 
 school, for we had not only the sons of farmers, but some- 
 times actual mechanics, among us. It was rumored, in- 
 deed, that Dr. Dymond, now an LL. D. of the Lackawanna 
 University, had commenced life as a chair-maker in Cor. 
 necticut. 
 
 So my school-life went on. The summer passed away, 
 and the autumn, and the second winter. My mental 
 growth was so evident, that, although the expenses of the 
 ychool proved to be considerably more than had been 
 estimated, my mother could not think of abridging the full 
 time she had assigned to my studies. The money was 
 forthcoming, and she refused to tell me whence it came. 
 " You shall help me to pay it back, Johnny," was all she 
 would say. 
 
 1 believed, at least, that she was not overtasking her own 
 strength in the effort to earn it. There was but limited 
 employment for her needle in so insignificant a place as 
 the Cross-Keys, and she was, moreover, unable at this tim*> 
 to do as much as formerly. The bright color, I could i.^t 
 help noticing, had faded from her face, and was replaced 
 by a livid, waxen hue ; thick streaks of gray appeared in 
 her dark puffs, and her round forehead, once so smooth, 
 began to show lines which hinted at concealed suffering. 
 She confessed, indeed, that she had " spells of weakness " 
 now and then ; " but," she added, with a smile which reas- 
 sured me, ' it 's nothing more than I 've been expecting. 
 We old people are subject to such things. There 's Neigh- 
 bor Niles, now, to hear her talk, you would think she 
 never had a well day in her life, yet what a deal of work 
 she does ! '' 
 
 This was true. Our good neighbor was never free from 
 some kind of ' misery," as she expressively termed it One 
 day she would have it in the small of the back ; then it 
 would mount to a spot between the shoulder-blades ; next,
 
 62 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 perhaps, she would find it in her legs, or elbows, or ever, 
 on the top of her head. After a day of hard scrubbing 
 she would run over to, our cottage, drop into mother's rock- 
 ing-chair, and exclaim, " I feel powerful weak ; the mis- 
 ery 's just got into every bone o' my body." 
 
 Thus, though at times I noticed with apprehension the 
 change in my mother's appearance, the feeling was speedily 
 dismissed. My own prospects were so secure, so glowing, 
 that any shadow of unwelcome change took from them an 
 illuminated edge as it approached. But there came, in the 
 beginning of summer, one Sunday, when a strange, restless 
 spirit seemed to have entered the cottage. Every incident 
 of that day is burned upon my memory in characters so 
 legible that to recall them brings back my own uncompre- 
 hended pain. The day was hot and cloudless : every plant, 
 bush, and tree rejoiced in the perfect beauty of its new 
 foliage. The air was filled, not with any distinct fragrance, 
 but with a soft, all-pervading smell of life. Bees were 
 everywhere, in the locust-blossoms, in the starry tulip- 
 trees, on the opening pinks and sweet-williams of the gar- 
 den ; and the cat-bird sang from a bursting throat, on his 
 perch among the reddening mayduke cherries. The har- 
 mony of such a day is so exquisite that the discord of a 
 mood which cannot receive and become a portion of it is a 
 torture scarcely to be borne. 
 
 This torture I first endured on that day. What I feared 
 whether, in fact, I did fear I could not tell. A vague, 
 smothering weight lay upon my heart, and, though I could 
 not doubt that mother shared the same intolerable anxiety, 
 it offered no form sufficiently tangible for expression. She 
 insisted on my reading from ths Psalms, as usual when we 
 did not go to church, but internij ted me every few min- 
 utes by rising from her seat and going into her own room, 
 or the kitchen, or the garden, without any clear reason 
 Sometimes I caught her looking at me with eyes that so 
 positively spoke that I asked, involuntarily, "Mother, did
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 63 
 
 yon say anything ? " Then a faint color would come into 
 her face, which had lost none of its roundness, so that she 
 suddenly seemed to be her old, bright, cheerful self. 
 
 I believe I was going to say something, Johnny," she 
 would answer, " but it can't make much odds what it was, 
 for I 've forgotten it already." 
 
 As the day wore on. her restlessness increased. When 
 it was necessary for her to leave the room, on some house 
 hold errand, she would call to me, soon afterwards, " John- 
 ny, are you there ? " or come back to the room in flushed 
 haste, as if fearful of some impending catastrophe. She 
 prepared our tea with a feverish hurry, talking all the time 
 of my hunger (though I had not the least) and my appe- 
 tite, and how pleasant it was to have me there, and how 
 she always looked forward to Sunday evening, and how 
 fast the time had gone by, to be sure, since I first went to 
 Dr. Dymond's school, and what progress I had made, and 
 she wished she could send me to college, but it could n't 
 be. no. there was no use in thinking of it with such 
 earnestness and so many repetitions that I became at last 
 quite confused. Yet, when we sat down to the table she 
 became silent, and her face resumed its waxen pallor. 
 
 During the evening she still talked about the school, 
 and what I should do the following winter, after leaving it. 
 " Perhaps Dr. Dymond might want an assistant," she said ; 
 " you 're young, John, it 's true, but I should think you 
 ould do as well as Walton, and then you could still study 
 bi-uveen whiles. I wouldn't have you mention it the 
 idea just came into my head, that 's all. If you were only 
 two years older ! I 'in sure I 'd keep you there longer if I 
 could, but " 
 
 'Don't think of that, mother!" I interrupted; "we 
 really can't afford it." 
 
 " No, we can't." she sighed, " not even if I was to give 
 up the cottage and go somewhere as housekeeper. I did 
 think of that, once, but it's too late. Well, you '11 have the 
 two years I promised you, Johnny."
 
 64 70HN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 Much more she said to the same purport, interrupting 
 herself every now and then with, " Stop, there was some- 
 thing else I had to say!" which, when recalled, generally 
 proved to be something already mentioned. 
 
 When I went to bed, I lay awake for a long time, trying 
 to explain the singular unrest which had come upon the 
 house. It finally occurred to me that mother had probably 
 gotten into some trouble on account of the expense of my 
 schooling. I could hear her, in the room below me. walk- 
 ing about uneasily, opening and shutting drawers, talking 
 to herself, it seemed. Once or twice something like a 
 smothered groan reached my ear. I resolved that the fol- 
 lowing Sunday should not go by without my knowing to 
 what extent she had drawn upon her resources for my 
 sake, and that the drain should be stopped, even if I had 
 to give up the remainder of my summer term. After con- 
 g^tulating myself on this heroic resolution, I fell asleep. 
 
 When I came down stairs in the morning, I found that 
 breakfast was already prepared. Mother seemed to have 
 recovered from her restless, excited condition, but her eye- 
 lids were heavy and red. She confessed that she had 
 passed a sleepless night When I heard Charley Rand's 
 hail from the road, I kissed her and said good-bye. She 
 returned my kiss silently, and went quietly into her bed- 
 room as I passed out the door. 
 
 The vague weight at my heart left me that morning, to 
 return and torment me during the next two days. It was 
 but a formless shadow, the very ghost of a phantom, 
 but it clung to and dulled every operation of my minC 
 muffled every beat of my heart. 
 
 Wednesday evening, I recollect, was heavy and overcast, 
 with a dead, stifling hush in the atmosphere. The tension 
 of my unnatural mood was scarcely to be endured any 
 longer. Oh, if this be life, I thought, let me finish it now ! 
 There was not much talk in our attic that night : the o her 
 boys tumbled lazily into bed and soon slept I closed mj
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 65 
 
 s. 3ut no sleep came. The constriction about my heart 
 crept up towards my throat and choked nie. I clenched 
 my hands and ground my teeth ; the muscles of my face 
 twitched, and with a spasm which shook me from head to 
 foot and took away my breath, I burst into a passion of tears. 
 I hid my head under the bedclothes, and strove to stifle the 
 gasps that threatened to become cries to subdue the 
 violence of the crisis which had seized me. Penrose was 
 such a quiet bedfellow that I forgot his presence until ] 
 felt that he was turning over towards me. Then, thor- 
 oughly alarmed. I endeavored to lie still and counterfeit 
 sleep : but it was impossible. I could no longer control 
 the sobs that shook my body. 
 
 Presently Penrose stirred again, thrust himself down in 
 the bed, and I heard his voice under the clothes, almost at 
 my ear. 
 
 " Godfrey," he whispered, with a tender earnestness, 
 ' what is the matter ? " 
 
 " My mother ! " was all the answer I could make. 
 
 " Is she sick dangerous ? " he whispered again, laying 
 one arm gently over my shoulder. Its very touch was 
 soothing and comforting. 
 
 " I don't know, Penrose," I said at last. " Something is 
 the matter, and I don't know what it is. Mother has a hard 
 time to raise money for my schooling : I am afraid it 's too 
 hard for her. I did n't mean to cry, but it came all at once. 
 I think I should have died if it had n't." 
 
 He drew me towards him as if I had been a little child, 
 and laid my head against his shoulder. " Don't be afraid," 
 he then whispered, ' no one has heard you but myself. We 
 are all so, at times. I recollect your mother ; she is a good 
 woman ; she reminds me. somehow, of mine." 
 
 My right hand sought for Penrose's, which it held firmlj 
 clasped, and I lay thus until my agitation had subsided. A 
 grateful sense of sympathy stole into my heart ; the strange 
 mist which seemed to have gathered, blotting out my fiv 
 
 6
 
 86 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 ture, began to lift before a breeze which blew from the 
 stronger nature beside me. At last, with a final pressure, 
 which was answered, I released his hand and turned to mj 
 own pillow. Next morning he was silent as ever, but his 
 silence no longer repelled or annoyed me. I was beginning 
 to learn that the heart lies much deeper than the lips. 
 
 In the afternoon Dr. Dymond was called into the recep- 
 tion-room. I paid no attention to this circumstance, for it 
 was of frequent occurrence, but when he opened the door 
 directly afterwards and called " Godfrey ! " I started as if 
 struck. Penrose darted a glance of keen, questioning in- 
 terest across the intervening desk, and I felt that his eye 
 was following me as I walked out of the school-room. 
 
 I was quite surprised to find " Old Dave," as we gener- 
 ally called him, Neighbor Niles's husband. waiting for 
 me. He was standing awkwardly by the table, his battered 
 beaver still upon his head. 
 
 " Well, Johnny," said he, giving me his hand, which felt 
 like a piece of bark dried for tanning, " are you pretty well ? 
 I 've come for to fetch you home, because, you see well. 
 your mother she 's ailin'some, that is, and so we thought 
 the Doctor here 'd let you off for a day or two." 
 
 " Of course, sir," Dr. Dymond bowed. " Godfrey, this 
 gentleman has explained to me the necessity of allowing 
 you to be absent for a short time during the term. I sin- 
 cerely regret the occasion which calls for it. You need not 
 return to the school-room. Good-bye, for the present ! " 
 
 I took his hand mechanically, ran tip-stairs and brought 
 my little carpet-bag, and was very soon seated at Niles's 
 side, bouncing down the lane in a light, open wagon. 
 
 " I took the brown mare, you see," he said, as we turned 
 into the highway. " She 's too free for the old woman tc 
 drive, but she knows my hand. This is Reanor's machine : 
 he lent it to me at once't. Rolls easy, don't it ? " 
 
 " But, Dave ! " I cried, in an agony of anxiety, "you have 
 not told me what !ia<; h innonod to mother ! "
 
 JOIIX GODFREY'S FORTUNES. BV 
 
 He fidgeted uneasily on his seat, addressed various re- 
 marks to the brown nmre, and finally, when my patience 
 was almost exhausted, said, in a confused way, " Well, you 
 see. it has n't jist happened altogether now. Tears it 'a 
 been conn'n' on a good while, a year or two, maybe 
 more. The Doctor sa^'s it ought to ha' been done sooner, 
 but I don't wonder much if she could n't make up her mind 
 to it" 
 
 My distress increased with every one of these slowly 
 drawled, incoherent sentences. " For God's sake," I ex- 
 claimed, " tell me what ails her ! " 
 
 Dave started at my vehemence, and blurted out the 
 dreadful truth at once. " Cancer ! " said he : " they cut it 
 out, yisterday Dr. Rankin, and Dr. Lott, here, in Honey- 
 brook. They say she bore it oncommon, but she 's mighty 
 low, this mornin'." 
 
 I turned deathly sick and faint. I could not utter a word, 
 but wrung my hands together and groaned. Dave pulled 
 a small, flat bottle out of his breast-pocket, drew the cork 
 with his teeth, and held the mouth to my lips, saying, 
 " Take a swaller. You need n't say anything about it be- 
 fore the old woman." 
 
 The fluid fire which went down my throat partially re- 
 stored me ; but the truth was still too horrible to be fully 
 comprehended. In spite of the glowing June-day, a chill 
 struck to the marrow of my bones, as I thought of my poor, 
 dear little mother, mangled by surgeons' knives, and per- 
 haps at that very moment bleeding to death. Then a bitter 
 feeling of rage and resistance took possession of my heart. 
 " Why does God allow such things ? " cried the inward 
 voice : " why make her suffer such tortures, who was always 
 so pure and pious, who never did harm to a single creat- 
 ure ? " The mystery of the past four days was now clear 
 to me : but how blind the instinct that predicted misfortune 
 and could not guess its nature ! If mother had but told 
 me, or I had not postponed the intended explanation I It
 
 68 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 was now too late : I dared not chide her who had endured 
 so fearfully. If any such thought arose, I asked pardon for 
 it of the same God I had accused a moment before. Bui 
 the Recording Angel does not open his book for the blind 
 words of the young. 
 
 Dave had been talking, I suppose, but I was unconscious 
 of his words. Now that the truth had been told, he was 
 ready enough to give all the particulars, and even attempt, 
 in his rough way. to administer consolation. 
 
 " You must n't take on so," he said, patting me on the 
 knee ; " maybe she '11 git well, after all. AVhile there 's life 
 there 's hope, you know. Some has been cured that 
 seemed jist about as bad as they could be. The wust of 
 cancer is, it mostly comes back agin. It 's like Canada 
 thistles : you may dig trenches round 'em, and burn 'em, 
 and chop the roots into mince-meat, and like as not you 've 
 got 'em next year, as thick as ever." 
 
 His words made me shudder. " Please go on fas f -, 
 Dave," I entreated ; " never mind telling me any more ; I 
 want to get home." 
 
 ". So do I," he answered, urging the mare into a rapid 
 trot. " I did n't much keer to come, but there was nobody 
 else handy, and th' old woman said you must be fetched, 
 right away." 
 
 As we approached the cottage, Neighbor Niles came out 
 and waited for us at the gate. Her eyes were red, and they 
 began to flow again when I got down from the wagon. 
 She wiped them with her apron, took me by the hand, and 
 said, in a whisper louder than the ordinary voice of most 
 women, 
 
 " I '11 go in and tell her you 're here. Wait outside un 
 til I come back. The Doctor 's with her." 
 
 It was not long before she returned, followed by Dr. 
 liankin. I knew him, from the days of my sprained ankle, 
 and was passing him with a hasty greeting, when he seized 
 me by the arm. " Control yourself, my boy ! " said he 5 
 4 she must not be excited."
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. Hi) 
 
 1 walked into the bedroom. It was very well to say 
 u Control yourself! " but the sight of my mother, with half- 
 closed eyes, her face as white as the pillow beneath it, so 
 unnerved me that I sank, trembling, upon the chair at the 
 head of the bed, and wept long and bitterly. I felt her 
 fingers upon my hair : ' Poor boy ! " she sighed. 
 
 " Oh, mother ! " I cried, why did n't you tell me ? " 
 
 " 'T would have done no good, Johnny," she feebly 
 answered. " I was glad to know that you were unconscious 
 and happy all the time. Besides, it 's only this spring that 
 I grew so much worse. I tried to bear up, my dear child, 
 that I might see you started in life ; but I am afraid it 's 
 act to be." 
 
 " Don't say that, mother. I can't live without you." 
 
 '' I have lived ten years without your father, child, and 
 they were not unhappy years. God does not allow us to 
 grieve without ceasing. You will have some one to love, 
 as I have had you. You will soon be a man, and if I 
 should live, it would be io see some one nearer to you than 
 I am. I pray that you may be happy, John ; but you will 
 not forget your old mother. When you have children of 
 your own upon your knees, you will talk to them some- 
 times will you not? of the Grandmother Godfrey who 
 died before she could kiss and bless them for your sake ? " 
 
 Her own tears flowed freely as she ceased to speak, 
 exhausted, and paused to recover a little strength. " I 've 
 been blessed," she said at last, " and I must not complain. 
 You 've been a good boy, Johnny ; you 've been a dutiful 
 and affectionate son to me. You 're my joy and my pride 
 now, it can't be wrong for me to take the comfort God 
 sends. There would be light upon the way I must go, if I 
 knew that you could feel some of the resignation which J 
 have learned." 
 
 Mother," I sobbed, " I can't be resigned to lose you. I 
 will stay with you, and take care of you. I should nevei 
 have gone away to school, but I thought only of my 
 elf!"
 
 70 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 Her face was suddenly touched with a solemn beauty 
 and her gentle voice had a sacred authority which I ac 
 cepted as if it had truly spoken across the mysterious gulf 
 which was soon to separate us. " My dear child," she said, 
 " listen to me. I know how you feel in this moment 1 
 can foresee that you may torture yourself after I am gone 
 with the recollection of this or that duty omitted, of some 
 hasty word spoken, perhaps some impatient thought whicfc 
 merely passed through your mind. After your father died, 
 I called aloud, in anguish and prayer, for his spirit to speak 
 down from heaven and forgive me all things wherein I had 
 failed of my duty towards him. But I know now that the 
 imperfections of our conduct here are not remembered 
 against us, if the heart be faithful in its love. If you were 
 ever undutiful in word or thought, the sun never went 
 down and left you unforgiven. Remember this, and that 
 all I have tried to do for you has been poor payment for 
 the blessing you have always been to me ! " 
 
 Blessed words, that fell like balm on my overwhelming 
 sorrow ! I took them to my heart and held them there, as 
 if with a presentiment of the precious consolation they 
 were thenceforth to contain. I pressed her pale hand ten- 
 derly, laid my cheek upon it, and was silent, for it seemed 
 to me that an angel was indeed present in the little room. 
 
 After a while, Neighbor Niles softly opened the door, 
 drew near, and whispered, " Mr. Woolley 's here --from 
 Readin' ; shall I bring him in ? " 
 
 My mother assented. 
 
 I had not seen my uncle for some years, and retained 
 but an indistinct recollection of his appearance. He had 
 been sent for, early in the morning, at my mother's urgi-nt 
 request, as I afterwards learned. When the door opened. 
 I saw a portly figure advancing through the gathering dusk 
 of the room, bend over my head towards my mother, and 
 say, in a husky voice, " How do you feel, Barbara?" 
 
 " I am very weak," mother replied. " This is John,
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 71 
 
 Amos. John, shake hands with your uncle, and then leave 
 tne for a little while. I have something to say to him." 
 
 I rose. A fat hand closed upon mine, and again I heard 
 the husky voice, " Well, really, as tall as this '< I had no 
 idea, Barbara." 
 
 I do not know whether he was aware of my mother's 
 condition. Perhaps not ; but it was impossible for me, at 
 the moment, to credit him with the doubt. To my ear, his 
 words expressed a cruel coldness and indifference ; and I 
 went forth from the room with a spark of resentment 
 already kindled in the midst of my grief. I threw myself 
 into my accustomed seat by the front window, and gave 
 myself up to the gloomy chaos of my emotions. 
 
 Neighbor Niles was preparing the table for supper, 
 stopping now and then to wipe her eyes, and " sniffling " 
 with a loud, spasmodic noise, which drove me nearly to dis- 
 traction. My excited nerves could not bear it Once she 
 put down a plate of something, crossed the room to my 
 chair, and laid her hand on my shoulder. " Johnny," 
 she began 
 
 " Let me be ! " I cried, fiercely, turning away from her 
 with a jerk. 
 
 The good woman burst into fresh tears, and instantlv 
 left me. ' Them 's the worst," I heard her mutter to her- 
 self ; " I 'd ruther he 'd half break his heart a-cryin'." 
 And, indeed, I was presently sorry for the rude way in 
 which I had repelled her sympathy, though I could not 
 encourage her to renew it. 
 
 Supper was delayed, nearly an hour, waiting for my 
 uncle. When he appeared, it was with a grave and sol- 
 emn countenance. I took my seat beside him very reluc- 
 tantly : it seemed dreadful to me to eat and drink while my 
 mother might be dying in the next room. Neighbor Niles, 
 however, would hear of nothing else. She had already 
 lifted the tea-pot, in her haste to serve us, when my uncle 
 suddenly bowed his head and commenced a grace. Neigh
 
 72 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 bor Niles was so confused that she stood with the tea-pol 
 suspended in the air until he had finished. I, who with 
 difficulty swallowed a little tea, was shocked at the appetite 
 he displayed, forgetting that he was human, and that it was 
 a long drive from Reading. 
 
 " I am afraid, John," he finally said, " that the Lord is 
 about to chasten you. It is some comfort to know that 
 your mother seems to be in a proper frame of mind. Her 
 ways were never the same as mine, but it is not too late, 
 even at the eleventh hour, to accept the grace which is 
 freely offered. It is not for me to judge, but I am hopeful 
 that she will be saved. I trust that you will not delay to 
 choose the safe and the narrow path. Do you love your 
 Saviour ? " 
 
 " Yes," I answered, somewhat mechanically, I fear. 
 
 " Are you willing to give up everything and follow 
 Him?" 
 
 " Uncle Amos," I said, " I wish you would n't ask me 
 any more questions." I left the table, and stole quietly 
 into mother's room. As I was passing out of the door I 
 heard Neighbor Niles say, " This is no time to be preachin' 
 at the poor boy." 
 
 That night my uncle took possession of my bed in the 
 attic. I refused to sleep, and the considerate nurse allowed 
 me to watch with her. Mother's condition seemed to be 
 stupor rather than healthy slumber. There was no recu- 
 perative power left in her system, and the physician had 
 already declared that she would not recover from the shock 
 of the operation. He informed me, afterwards, that the 
 strength of her system had been reduced, for years, by the 
 lack of rich and nourishing food, which circumstance, if 
 it did not create the disease, had certainly very much accel 
 crated its progress. " She was not a plant that would 
 thrive on a poor soil," he said, in his quaint way; ''she 
 ought to have been planted in fowl and venison, and 
 watered with Port"
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 78 
 
 The long, long night dragged away, and when the black 
 mass of the lilac-bush at the window began to glimmer in 
 dusky green, and some awakening birds cheeped in the 
 branches of the plum-tree, mother seemed to revive. 1 
 was shocked to see, in the wan light, how her round cheeks 
 had already fallen in, and what a ghastly dimness dwelt in 
 her dark eyes. The nurse administered some stimulating 
 mixture, smoothed the pillow, and, obeying some tender 
 instinct, left us together. Mother's eyes called me to her 
 I stooped down and kissed her lips. 
 
 " John," she said, " I must tell you now, while I have 
 strength, what your uncle and I have agreed upon. The 
 money, you know, is in his hands, and it is better that he 
 should keep it in trust until you are of age. You are to 
 stay at school until the fall. I borrowed the money of 
 Mr. Rand. There is a mortgage on the house and lot, and 
 the doctors must be paid : so all will be sold, except some 
 little things that you may keep for my sake. When you 
 leave school, your uncle will take you. He says you can 
 assist in his store and learn something about business. 
 Your aunt Peggy is my sister, you know, and it will be a 
 home for you. I could n't bear to think that you must go 
 among strangers. When you 're of age, you '11 have a 
 little something to start you in the world, and if my bless- 
 ing can reach you, it will rest upon you day and night" 
 
 The prospect of living with my uncle was not pleasant, 
 but it seemed natural and proper, and not for worlds would 
 I have deprived the dear sufferer of the comfort which she 
 drew from this disposition of my fortunes. She repeated 
 her words of consolation, in a voice that grew fainter and 
 more broken, and then lay for a long time silent, with her 
 hand in mine. Once again she half opened her eyes, and, 
 while a brief, shadowy smile flitted about her lips, whispered 
 "' Johnny ! " 
 
 " I am here, with you, mother," I said, fondling the list- 
 less hand.
 
 74 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 She did not reply : this was the last sign of conscious- 
 ness she gave. The conquered life still lingered, hour 
 after hour, as if from the mere mechanical habit of the 
 bodily functions. But the delicate mechanism moved more 
 and more slowly, and, before sunset, it had stopped forever
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 15 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 IN WHICH I DISCOVER A NEW RELATIVE. 
 
 WHY should I enter into all the dreary details of the 
 funeral preparations, of those black summer days, which 
 still lie, an unfaded blot, in the soft and tender light of 
 resignation now shining over my sorrow ? I passed through 
 the usual experience of one struck by sudden and bittei 
 calamity : my heart was chilled and benumbed by its inabil- 
 ity to comprehend the truth. My dull, silent, apathetic 
 mood must have seemed, to the shallow-judging neighbors, 
 a want of feeling; only Neighbor Niles and her husband 
 guessed the truth. I saw men and women, as trees, come 
 and go ; some of them spoke to me, and when I was forced 
 to speak in turn, it was with painful unwillingness. 7 
 heard my voice, as if it were something apart from myself; 
 I even seemed, through some strange extraverted sense, to 
 stand aside and contemplate my own part in the solem- 
 nities. 
 
 When I look back, now, I see a slender youth, dressed 
 in an ill-fitting black suit, led through the gate in the low 
 churchyard wall by my uncle Woolley. It is not myself; 
 but I feel at my heart the numb, steady ache of his, which 
 shall outlast a sharper grief. His eyes are fixed on the 
 ground, but I know for I have often been told so that 
 they are like my mother's. His hair cannot be described 
 by any other color than dark auburn, and hangs, long and 
 loose, over his ears ; his skin is fair, but very much 
 freckled, and his features, I fancy, would wear an earnest, 
 eager expression in any happier mood. I see this boy aa
 
 76 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 some mysterious double of mine, standing, cold and pale, 
 beside the open grave ; but the stupor of his grief is hardef 
 to bear, even in memory, than the keen reality to which I 
 afterwards awoke. 
 
 1 let things take their course, knowing that the circum- 
 stances of my immediate future were already arranged. 
 My uncle Woolley, as my guardian and the executor of my 
 mother's little estate, assumed, without consulting me, the 
 disposal of the cottage and furniture. Mr. Rand purchased 
 the former, as a convenient tenant-house for some of his 
 farm-hands, and the latter, with' the exception of mother's 
 rocking-chair, which she bequeathed to Neighbor Niles. was 
 sold at auction. This, however, took place after my return 
 to the school, and I was spared the pain of seeing my home 
 broken to pieces and its fragments scattered to the winds. 
 My uncle probably gave me less credit for a practical com- 
 prehension of the matter than I really deserved. His first 
 conversation with me had been unfortunate, both in point 
 of time and subject, and neither of us, I suspect, felt in- 
 clined, just then, to renew the attempt at an intimacy befit- 
 ting our mutual relation. 
 
 In a few days I found myself back again at Honeybrook 
 Academy. The return was a relief, in every way. The 
 knowledge of my bereavement had, of course, preceded me. 
 and I was received with the half-reverential kindness which 
 any pack of boys, however rough and thoughtless, will never 
 fail to accord, in like circumstances. Miss Hitchcock, it is 
 true, gave me a moment's exasperation by her awkward at- 
 tempt at condolence, quoting the hackneyed " pattida mors" 
 &c., but Mother Dymond actually dropped a few tears from 
 her silly eyes as she said, " I 'm so sorry, Godfrey ; I quite 
 took to her that time she was here." 
 
 Penrose met me with a long, silent pressure of the hand, 
 and the stolid calm with which I had heard the others 
 melted for the first time. My eyes grew suddenly dim, and 
 I turned away
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 77 
 
 I had already profited by nearly two years' experience of 
 human nature, or, rather, boy-nature, and was careful not 
 to let my knowledge of his sympathy lead me into advances 
 which might, notwithstanding all that had happened, be 
 repelled. I had a presentiment that he esteemed me be- 
 cause I imitated his own reticence, and that he was sus- 
 picious of any intimacy which did not proceed from himself. 
 In spite of his beauty, which seemed to be dimly felt and 
 respected by the whole school, and the tender spot in my 
 heart, kindling anew whenever I recalled the night he had 
 taken me to his breast, 1 was not sure that I could wholly 
 like and trust him could ever feel for him the same open, 
 unquestioning affection which I bestowed, for example, on 
 Bob Simmons. 
 
 In my studies I obtained, at least, a temporary release 
 from sorrow. The boys found it natural that I should not 
 join in the sports of play-hours, or the wild, stolen expedi- 
 tions in which I had formerly taken delight. When I closed 
 my Lempriere and Leverett, I wandered off to the nearest 
 bit of woodland, flung myself on the brown moss under 
 some beech-tree, and listened idly to the tapping of the 
 woodpecker, or the rustle of squirrels through the fallen 
 leaves. 
 
 There was a little shaded dell, in particular, which was 
 my favorite haunt. A branch of Cat Creek (as the stream 
 in the valley was called) ran through it, murmuring gently 
 over stones and dead tree-trunks. Here, in moist spots, 
 the trillium hung its crimson, bell-like fruit under the hori- 
 zontal roof of its three broad leaves, and the orange orchis 
 shot up feathery spikes of flowers, bright as the breast of 
 an oriole. In the thickest shade of this dell, a large tree 
 had fallen across the stream from bank to bank, above a 
 dark, glassy trout-pool. One crooked branch, rising in the 
 middle, formed the back of a rough natural chair ; and hithe! 
 I came habitually, bringing some work borrowed from Dr 
 Dymond's library. I remember reading there Mrs. He
 
 78 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 raans's " Forest Sanctuary," with a delight whuh, alas ! the 
 poem can never give again, even with such accessories. 
 
 One day I was startled from my book by hearing the 
 dead twigs on the higher bank snap under the step of some 
 one descending into the glen. I looked up and saw Pen 
 rose coming leisurely down, cutting now and then at a wood- 
 moth or dragon-fly with a switch of leather-wood. Almost 
 at the same moment he espied me. 
 
 " Hallo, Godfrey ! Are you there ? " he said, turning 
 towards my perch. " You show a romantic taste, upon my 
 word ! " 
 
 The irony, if he meant it for such, went no further. The 
 mocking smile vanished from his lips, and his face became 
 grave as he sprang upon the log and took a seat carelessly 
 against the roots. For a minute he bent forward and looked 
 down into the glassy basin. 
 
 " Pshaw ! " said he, suddenly, striking the water with his 
 switch, so that it seemed to snap like the splitting of a real 
 mirror, " only my own face ! I 'm no Narcissus." 
 
 " You could n't change into a flower, with your complex- 
 ion, anyhow," I remarked. 
 
 " Curse my complexion ! " he exclaimed ; " it 's a kind 
 that brings bad blood, my father has it, too ! " 
 
 I was rather startled at this outbreak, and said nothing. 
 He, too, seemed to become conscious of his vehemence. 
 " Godfrey," he asked, " do you remember your father ? 
 What kind of a man was he ? " 
 
 " Yes," I answered, " I remember him very well. I was 
 eight years old when he died. He was quiet and steady. 
 I can't recall many things that he said ; but as good 
 and honest a man as ever lived, I believe. If he had n't 
 been, mother could n't have loved him so, to the very end 
 of her life." 
 
 " I have no doubt of it," he said, after a pause, as if 
 speaking to himself ; " there are such men. I 'm sorry yoc 
 lost your mother, no need to tell you that You 're go
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 7S 
 
 ing to leave school at the end of the term. Where will 
 you go ? You have other relations, of course ? " 
 
 Encouraged by the interest which Penrose showed in mj 
 condition, I related to him what had been decided upon by 
 my mother and my uncle, without concealing the unfavora- 
 ble impression which the latter had made upon me, or my 
 distaste at the prospect before me. 
 
 " But you must have other aunts and uncles," he said. 
 " or relatives a little further off. On your father's side, for 
 instance ? " 
 
 " I suppose so," I answered ; " but they never visited 
 mother, and I shall not hunt them up now. Aunt Peggy is 
 mother's only living sister. Grandfather Hatzfeld had a 
 son, my uncle John, after whom I was named, but he 
 never married, and died long ago." 
 
 " Hatzfeld ? Was your mother's name Hatzfeld ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 Penrose relapsed into a fit of silence. " It would be 
 strange," he said to himself ; then, lifting his head, asked : 
 
 " Had your grandfather Hatzfeld brothers and sisters ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes. Aunt Christina was his sister : she left mother 
 our little place at the Cross-Keys when she died. Now, I 
 recollect, I have heard mother speak of another aunt, Anna, 
 who married and settled somewhere in New Jersey ; I for- 
 get her name, it began with D. Grandfather had an 
 older brother, too, but I think he went to Ohio. Mother 
 never talked much about him : he did n't act fairly towards 
 grandfather." 
 
 " D ? " asked Penrose, with a curious interest " Would 
 you know the name if you were to hear it ? Was it Den- 
 ning ? " 
 
 " Yes, that 's it ! " I exclaimed ; " why, how could you 
 guess " 
 
 " Because Anna Denning was my grandmother mj 
 mother's mother ! When you mentioned the name of Hatz- 
 feld. it all came into my mind at once. Why, Godfrey
 
 80 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 your mother and mine were first cousins, we are cousins 
 therefore ! " 
 
 He sat upright on the log and stretched out his hand, 
 which I took and held. " Penrose ! " I exclaimed, " can it 
 be possible ? " 
 
 " Plain as a pike-staff." 
 
 " Oh, are you serious, Penrose ? I can hardly believe it." 
 
 I still held his hand, as if the newly-found relationship 
 might slip away on releasing it. The old mocking light 
 came into his eyes. 
 
 " Do you want me to show the strawberry-mark on my 
 left arm ? " he asked ; " or a mole on my breast, with three 
 long black hairs growing out of it ? Cousins are plenty, 
 and you may n't thank me for the discovery." 
 
 " I am so glad ! " I cried ; " I have no cousin : it is the 
 next thing to a brother ! " 
 
 His face softened again. " You 're a good fellow. God- 
 frey," said he, " or Cousin John, if you like that bettei 
 Call me Alexander, if you choose. Since it is so, I wish 1 
 had known it sooner." 
 
 " If my poor mother could have known it ! " I sighed. 
 
 " That 's it ! " he exclaimed, " the family likeness be- 
 tween your mother and mine. It puzzled me when I saw 
 her. My mother has been dead three years, and there 's 
 a I won't say what in her place. As you 're one of 
 the family now, Godfrey, you may as well learn it from me 
 as from some one else, later. My father and mother did n't 
 live happily together ; but it was not her fault. While she 
 lived, my sister and I had some comfort at home ; she has 
 
 it yet, for that matter, but I There 's no use in going 
 
 over the story, except this much : it was n't six months after 
 my mother's death before my father married again. Mar- 
 ried whom, do you think? His cook! a vulgar, brazer' 
 wench, who sits down to the table in the silks and laces of 
 the dead ! And worse than that, the marriage brought 
 shame with it, if you can't guess what that means, now
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S :ORTUNES. 81 
 
 you 11 find out after a while ; don't ask me to say anything 
 more ! I am as proud as my mother was, and do you think 
 I could forgive my father this, even if he had not always 
 treated me like a brute ? " 
 
 Penrose's eyes flashed through the indignant moisture 
 which gathered in them. The warm olive of his skin had 
 turned to a livid paleness, and his features were hard and 
 cruel. I was almost afraid of him. 
 
 " He to demand of me that I should call her ' mother ' ! ' 
 he broke out again, his lip quivering, but not with tender- 
 ness, ' it was forbearance enough that I did not give her 
 the name she deserved ! And my sister. but I suppose 
 she is like most women, bent in any direction by anybody 
 stronger than themselves. She stays at home, no, not at 
 home, but with them, and writes me letters full of very 
 good advice. Oh, yes. she 's a miracle of wisdom ! She 's 
 a young lady of twenty -one, and and The Cook finds 
 it very convenient to learn fashionable airs of her, and how 
 to eat, and to enter a room, and hold her fan, and talk with- 
 out yelling as if at the house-maid, and all the rest of their 
 damnable folly ! There ! How do you like being related 
 to such a pleasant family as that ? " 
 
 I tried to stay the flood of bitterness, which revealed to 
 me a fate even more desolate than my own. " Penrose." i 
 said, " Cousin Alexander, you are so strong and brave, 
 you can make your own way in the world, without their 
 help. I 'm less able than you, yet I must do it I don't 
 know why God allows some things to happen, unless it 's to 
 try us." 
 
 " None of that ! " he cried, though less passionately : 
 "I've worried my brain enough, thinking of it. I've 
 come to the conclusion that most men are mean, contemp- 
 tible creatures, and their good or bad opinion is n't worth 
 a curse. If I take care of myself and don't sink down 
 among the lowest, I shall be counted honest, and virtuous 
 and the Lord knows what ; but I .sometimes think that, if 
 I
 
 82 JOHN GODFREY'S FOKTUNES. 
 
 there are such things as honesty and virtue, we must look 
 for tiiem among the dregs of society. The top, I know, is 
 nothing but a stinking scum." 
 
 I was both pained and shocked ac the cynicism of these 
 utterances, so harshly discordant with the youth and the glo- 
 rious physical advantages of my cousin. Yes ! the moment 
 the new relation between us was discovered and accepted 
 it established the bond which I felt to be both natural and 
 welcome. It interpreted the previous sensation which he 
 had excited in my nature. Some secret sympathy had 
 bent, like the hazel wand in the hand of the diviner, to 
 the hidden rill of blood. But the kinship of blood is not 
 always that of the heart. - A friend is closer than a 
 brother," say the Proverbs; I did not feel sure that he 
 could be the friend I needed and craved, but cousinship 
 was a familiar and affectionate tie, existing without our vo- 
 lition, justifying a certain amount of reciprocal interest, 
 and binding neither to duties which time and the changes 
 of life might render embarrassing. The confidence which 
 Penrose had reposed in me came, therefore, in some de- 
 gree, as the right of my relationship. I had paid for it, in 
 advance, by my own. 
 
 Hence I was saved, on the one hand, from being drawn, 
 during the warm, confiding outset of life, into a sneering 
 philosophy, which I might never have outgrown, and on the 
 other hand, from judging too harshly of Penrose's inherent 
 character. It would do no good at present, I saw, to pro- 
 test against his expressions ; so I merely said, 
 
 " You know more of the world than I do, Alexander ; 
 but I don't like to hear you talk in that strain." 
 
 " Perhaps you 're right, old fellow," said he ; " any way, 
 I don't include you among the rabble. I might have held 
 my tongue about my grandmother, if I had chosen ; but I 
 guess you and I are not nearly enough related to fall out. 
 There goes the bell : pick up your Eclogues, and come 
 along ! *
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 83 
 
 We went back to the school, arm in arm, talking famil- 
 
 O 
 
 iarly. From that time forward the recognized, mysterious 
 circle of Family enclosed us, and Penrose's manner towards 
 me was commensurate with the change. Never demonstra- 
 tive, never even positively affectionate, he stood at least on 
 level ground with me, and there was no wall between us. 
 The other boys, of course, noticed the difference in oui 
 relations, and it was not long before the inquisitive Thorn 
 ton said, 
 
 " I say. Pen, how is it that you 've got to calling Godfrey 
 ' John,' all at once ? " 
 
 " Because he is my cousin." 
 
 Thornton's eyes opened very wide. " The devil he is ! " 
 he exclaimed. (Thornton was unnecessarily profane, be- 
 cause he thought it made him seem more important) 
 "When did you find that out?" 
 
 " It 's none of your business," said Pen rose, turning on 
 his heel. Thornton thereupon went off, and communicated 
 the fact to the whole school in less than ten minutes. 
 
 After this, my cousin and I frequently walked out to the 
 glen together. I was glad to see that the kinship, so inex- 
 pressibly welcome to myself, was also satisfactory to him. 
 His first fragmentary confidence was completed by the de- 
 tails of his life, as he recalled them from time to time ; bu 
 his bitter, disappointed, unbelieving mood always came to 
 the surface, and I began to fear that it had already prede- 
 termined the character of his after-life. 
 
 One day, when he had been unusually gloomy in his 
 utterances, he handed me a letter, saying, " Read that." It 
 was from his sister, and ran, as nearly as I can recollect, as 
 follows : 
 
 " Street, Philadelphia. 
 
 "Mr DEAR BROTHER, Yours of the 10th is received 
 I am now so accustomed to your sarcastic style, that I al- 
 ways know what to expect when I open one of your epis- 
 tles. 1 wish you joy of your well, I must say our ne\*
 
 84 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 cousin, though I am sorry you did not let me know of the 
 discovery before telling him. He must be gauche and un- 
 presentable in a degree ; but then, I suppose, there 's no 
 likelihood of his ever getting into our set. It is time your 
 schooling was finished, so that I might have you for awhile as 
 my chevalier. Between ourselves, I 'in rather tired of going 
 about with " (here the word " Mamma " had evidently been 
 written and then blotted out) " Mrs. Pen rose. Not but 
 what she continues to improve, only, I am never certain 
 of her not committing some niaiserie. which quite puts me 
 out. However, she behaves well enough at home, and 1 
 hope you will overcome your prejudice in the end, for my 
 sake. When you know as much about Society as I do, you 
 will see that it 's always best to smooth over what 's irrev- 
 ocable. People are beginning to forget the scandal, since 
 that affair of Denbigh has given them something else to 
 talk about. We were at Mrs. Delane's ball on Wednes- 
 day ; I made her put on blue cut velvet, and she did not 
 look so bad. Mrs. Vane nodded, and of course she was 
 triumphant. I think Papa gives me the credit for all thu* 
 has been done, I 'm sure I deserve it. It 's a race be- 
 tween Mrs. P. and myself which shall have the new India 
 shawl at Stokes's; but I shall get it, because Mrs. P. knows 
 that I could teach her to blunder awfully as well as to be- 
 have correctly, and would do it, in spite of Papa's swearing. 
 if she drives me to desperation. By the by, he has just 
 come into the room, and says, ' You are writing to the cub, 
 as usual, I suppose, Matilda.' So there you have him, to 
 the life." 
 
 There was much more, in the same style. I must have 
 colored, with offended pride, on reading the opening lines, 
 for on looking up, involuntarily, I saw my cousin smile, but 
 so frankly and pleasantly that it instantly healed the wound 
 his sister made. I confess the letter disgusted me ; but it 
 
 O 
 
 was written by my own cousin also, and I did not dare tc
 
 J-JiiN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 85 
 
 express to her brother what I felt I handed the letter 
 back to him in silence. 
 
 "Come now, John," said he, "out with the truth 
 Would you not as lief be out of our family again ''. " 
 
 * Not while you are in it, Alexander," I replie i. /<
 
 86 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 CHAPTER YD. 
 
 IK WHICH CNCLE AND AUXT WOOLLEY TAKE CHARGK 
 OF ME. 
 
 As the close of my last term at the Honeybrook Acad- 
 emy approached, I felt none of the eagerness for change 
 of the delight in coming release from study, which would 
 have been natural to a boy of my age. On the contrary. I 
 grew more and more reluctant to leave a spot which was 
 now so familiar, and to give up the advantages of instruc- 
 tion at a time when I began to understand their impor- 
 tance. Both Miss Hitchcock and Dr. Dymond were sorry 
 to lose me, the former because there was no other Latin 
 pupil far enough advanced to read her expurgated Horace, 
 and the latter because my original dialogues and speeches 
 were beginning to constitute H feature in the semi-annual 
 exhibitions. If, among the boys, I had contracted no 
 strong, permanent friendship, I had at least encountered 
 no more than transient enmities ; besides, I was getting to 
 be one of the older and more conspicuous scholars, and 
 thus enjoyed a certain amount of authority. 
 
 It was hardest of all to part with Penrose. I could talk 
 with him of my mother, could ask his counsel, as a rela- 
 tive, in regard to my proposed plans of life. The latter were 
 still indefinite, it is true ; but they pointed towards teaching 
 as a preliminary employment Behind that crowded a 
 host of ambitious dreams, upon which I secretly fed my 
 mind. Penrose, however, was to leave the school in the 
 spring, and I should therefore have lost him six months 
 later, in any case.
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 87 
 
 On the last Sabbath before my departure, I walked ovei 
 to the Cross- Keys, and spent the day with the Niles family 
 The shutters of the little cottage were still closed ; I was 
 glad of it If strange faces had gazed from the windows. I 
 should have passed with averted head ; but I could now 
 stop and look over the paling, and peer under the boughs 
 of the plum-tree for a glimpse of the garden in the rear 
 Weeds were growing apace, and in the narrow strip of the 
 " front yard " I missed a dainty little rose-bush mother's 
 pet which used to be covered with diminutive double, 
 crimson blossoms. Neighbor Niles always called it the 
 " fi'penny-bit rose." I afterwards found it in the church- 
 yard, so carefully transplanted that it was already blooming 
 on mother's grave. It was not necessary to ask whose 
 pious hand had placed it there. 
 
 The good Neighbor and " Dave " gave me an honest and 
 hearty welcome. She insisted on opening the best room, 
 though I would have preferred the kitchen, where I could 
 hear her cheery voice alternately from the vicinity of cook- 
 stove, cupboard, and table. For dinner we had the plain, 
 yet most bountiful fare of the country, and she heaped my 
 plate far beyond my powers of eating, saying, with every 
 added spoonful, " I expect you 're half starved at the 
 school." 
 
 " Dr. Dymond does n't look as if he ett much, anyhow," 
 Dave remarked, with a chuckle. 
 
 " It seems quite nateral to have you here ag'in, Johnny," 
 said the Neighbor. " Dear me ! to think how things has 
 changed in the last two year. Poor Neighbor Godfrey ! 
 as good a woman as ever lived, though I say it to your face, 
 dead and goue, and you movin' away to Readin', like as 
 not never to come back ag'in. Well, you must n't forgit 
 your old neighbors, them that 's always wished you well. 
 Out of sight out of mind, they say ; but I guess it don't hold 
 true with everybody, leastways not with me. I can't 
 git over thinkin' about Becky Jane yit : it comes on to me
 
 88 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 powerful hard sometimes. She 'd ha' been sixteen last 
 August, if she 'd ha' lived. I often go up and scrub off her 
 tombstone, and scrape the rust out o' the letters." 
 
 " Oh, Neighbor Niles ! " I cried, ' you asked me once to 
 write a few lines to put on the stone. I '11 do it yet, before 
 ] leave." 
 
 The good woman's face glowed with gratitude. ' I 11 
 see that it 's put on whatever you write," she said, " if it 
 takes the vally of every turkey I 've raised ! " 
 
 I kept my promise. Four lines, containing a simile 
 about a broken flower being laid beneath this sod, to bloom 
 above in the garden of God, were sent to Neighbor Niles, 
 and whoever takes the trouble to visit Cross-Keys church- 
 yard will find them on Becky Jane's tombstone to this 
 day. 
 
 It was some twenty miles to Reading, and accordingly, 
 on the day after the closing exhibition at the academy, a 
 horse and light vehicle, despatched by my uncle, arrived to 
 convey me to my new home. Nearly all the scholars were 
 leaving for the autumn vacation, and my departure lost its 
 solemnity in the hurry and confusion that prevailed. Pen- 
 rose promised to correspond with me, and Charley Rand 
 said, " Don't be astonished if you find me in Reading next 
 summer." Mother Dymond gave me something wrapped 
 up in a newspaper, saying, " Take it, now ; you '11 want 
 them before you get there." " Them " proved to be six 
 'arge and very hard ginger-cakes. My trunk an old 
 one, which had once belonged to my father was tilted 
 up on end in front of the seat, occasioning much misery 
 both to my legs and the driver's ; and so I left Honey- 
 brook, the magnificent tin cupola sparkling a final farewell 
 as we dashed up the " Reading pike." 
 
 The inevitable step having been taken, the fibres I had 
 put out during the second stage of my boyhood torn loose, 
 I began to speculate, with some curiosity, on the coming 
 phase of my life. I found this attraction at least : I should
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 8t? 
 
 live in a much larger and more important town than I had 
 ever visited a town with a river, a canal, and a new rail- 
 road. At the Cross-Keys, people always spoke of Reading 
 as being inferior only to Philadelphia, and one of the Hon- 
 eybrook boys. DeUveiler, hotly and constantly proclaimed 
 its glories, to the discomfiture of Marsh, who was from Lan- 
 caster. As the afternoon wore away, and the long miles 
 slowly diminished down the teens, and then more slowly 
 down the unite, and the unsocial driver fell asleep every 
 ten minutes, of which fact the horse took base advantage. 
 I grew weary and impatient. My uncle's house became a 
 less unwelcome terminus to the journey. 
 
 At last we approached some bold hills wonderful, as- 
 tonishing mountains, I thought them. Our road stretched 
 forward through a hollow between ; a scattering village 
 came into view, and a toll-gate barred the road. The 
 driver awoke with a start. " Here 's Gibraltar ! " he said ; 
 " we '11 soon be there, now ! " 
 
 Are those the Alleghany Mountains ? " I asked. 
 
 " Guess you 're green in these parts," said he : " them 
 a'n't mountains." 
 
 " Well, what are their names ? " I asked again, in much 
 humiliation. 
 
 " This'n ha'n't no proper name. ' Penn's Mount ' some 
 call it T" other, on the left, is Neversink. You '11 see 
 Readin' in two minutes." 
 
 We presently emerged upon a slope, whence a glorious 
 landscape opened upon my eyes. Never had I seen or 
 imagined anything so beautiful. The stately old town lay- 
 below, stretched at full length on an inclined plane, rising 
 from the Schuylkill to the base of the mountain ; the river, 
 winding in abrupt curves, disclosed itself here and there 
 through the landscape ; hills of superb undulation rose and 
 fell, in interlinking lines, through the middle distance, 
 Scull's Hill boldly detaching itself in front and far in the 
 north the Blue Ridge lifted its dim wall against the sky
 
 90 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 The sinking sun turned the smokes of the town and the 
 vapors of the river to golden dust, athwart which faintly 
 gleamed the autumn coloring of distant woods. The noises 
 of the scene were softened and mellowed, and above them 
 .ill, clear, sweet, and faint, sounded the bugle of a boatman 
 on the canal. It was not ignorant admiration on my part 
 for one familiar with the grandest aspects of Nature must 
 still confess that few towns on this side of the Atlantic are 
 so nobly environed. 
 
 As we entered the place I could scarcely turn my head 
 rapidly enough to the right and left, in my inspection of 
 signs, houses, and people. The brick sidewalks seemed to 
 be thronged, but nobody paid any particular attention to 
 us. In Honeybrook every one would have stopped and 
 looked at us, so long as we were in sight. The driver turned 
 into the broad main avenue of Penn Street, with its central 
 line of markets, then downward towards the river, and drew 
 up, a few blocks further, at a corner. It was a low, old- 
 fashioned brick house, with a signboard over the front door 
 and window, upon which was inscribed, in faded letters. 
 "A. WOOLLEY'S GROCERY STORE." There were boxes of 
 candles, some bottles, a rope of onions, half a dozen with- 
 ered lemons, and a few other articles in the window ; a 
 woman was issuing from the door with a basket full of 
 brown paper parcels on her arm. On the other side of the 
 portly window a narrow door was squeezed into the wall. 
 The driver, having alighted, jerked my trunk out of the 
 wagon, brought it down with a crash on the upper step, and 
 rang the bell. The door was opened by Aunt Peggy, in 
 person : she had been one of the shadows which had haunted 
 Tiy mother's funeral, and I therefore recognized her. 
 
 My trunk was brought in and stood on end in the nar- 
 ow passage, which it almost blocked up. " You won't want 
 it before bedtime, I reckon," said my aunt ; " so leave it 
 there, and Holty will help you carry it up. Come into thi 
 ettin'-room."
 
 JOHX GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 91 
 
 Following her I found myself presently in a small room 
 behind the store. It was comfortably furnished, but some 
 what chill and unfriendly in its atmosphere, stiff, almost, 
 although nothing could have been less so than my aunt's 
 appearance. She wore a limp calico dress, of some dark 
 pattern, and a cap, the strings of which were untied and 
 hung over her breast Her face was long and thin, and her 
 hair, many shades lighter than my mother's, fell in straight 
 lank lines over her ears. There was usually a tuft of H 
 sticking out somewhere about the back of her neck. Her 
 eyes were small and gray, her nose long and pointed, and 
 her lips thin and sunken at the corners, from the loss of 
 most of her back teeth. Add to this a weak, lamenting 
 voice, rather, indeed, a whine, and it will readily be 
 conceived that my aunt Peggy was not a person to inspire 
 a young man with enthusiasm for the female sex. Never 
 were two sisters more unlike than she and mother. I pre- 
 sume there must have been a family likeness somewhere, 
 but I was really unable to discover it. 
 
 In a few minutes Uncle Amos came in from the store. 
 He shook hands with me with more cordiality than I had 
 anticipated. " We '11 have things fixed, in the course of i 
 day or two," he said. " Now, Peggy, I guess you had bet- 
 ter get tea ready : .John will be hungry, after his ride. Will 
 you come into the store, John, and look around a little ? " 
 
 I preferred that to sitting alone in the back room. After 
 stumbling over some coffee-bags, for it was getting dusky, 
 and the lamps were not yet lighted, I came forth into the 
 open space behind the counter, where a boy of my own age 
 was very busily engaged in weighing and " doing up " vari- 
 ous materials. Uncle Amos stepped forward to assist him. 
 leaving me to play the spectator. For a little while, both 
 were actively employed ; then, the rush of custom having 
 suddenly subsided, my uncle said, " Here, Bolty, this is ni\ 
 nephew, John Godfrey. John, this is my assistant, Boltj 
 Himpel."
 
 92 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 Bolty grinned and nodded, but said nothing. He wai 
 larger in every way than myself, but looked younger. His 
 hair, so blond as to be almost white, was cut close to his 
 head ; his forehead was low, his eyes large, wide apart, .and 
 pale blue ; his nose short, thick, and flattened in the middle, 
 and his mouth large and partly open. He was of the pure 
 peasant-blood of Southern Germany, his name, Bolty, be- 
 ing simply a contraction of Leopold, with a little confusion 
 of kindred consonants. I was a good deal surprised at my 
 uncle's choice of an assistant, but I afterwards found that 
 Bolty understood the business, and nothing else. His 
 round, unmeaning face was a perpetual advertisement of 
 simple honesty to the customers. He knew it, and profited 
 thereby. Besides, he spoke fluently that remarkable lan- 
 guage, the Pennsylvania German, a useful accomplish- 
 ment in a town w r here many native families were almost 
 wholly ignorant of English. 
 
 In a quarter of an hour my aunt whined out of the 
 gloom at the back of the store, " Tea, Amos ! " and we 
 obeyed the melancholy summons. The table was set in 
 the kitchen behind the sitting-room, and so near the stove 
 that Aunt Peggy could reach the hot water with her right 
 hand, without rising from her chair. The board looked 
 very scantily supplied, to my eyes, accustomed to country 
 profuseness, but there proved to be enough. 
 
 After we were seated, Uncle Amos bent, or rather 
 plunged forward, over his plate, waving his hands with the 
 palms outward, before bringing them together in the atti- 
 tude of prayer. There was a certain ostentation in this 
 gesture, which struck me at once. It seemed to say, 
 " Take notice, Lord : I am about to ask Thy blessing." 
 This was a very irreverent fancy of mine, I confess ; but.' 
 there it was : I could n't help it. 
 
 Most people as we find them would have considered 
 Uncle Amos a man of imposing presence. He was both 
 tall and stout, and the squareness in his outlines, both of
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 9 
 
 head and body, suggested a rough, massive strength. His 
 head was bald from the forehead to the crown, but the 
 side-hair was combed upwards so as to overlap and mar- 
 tially conceal it. His eyes were hard, and shot forth a 
 steely twinkle from under their fat lids ; the corners were 
 channelled with a multitude of short, sly wrinkles. The 
 skin of his cheeks was unpleasantly threaded here aud 
 there by fine, dark-purple veins, and always had a gloss 
 like varnish when he was freshly shaven. I half suspect, 
 now, that part of my instinctive dislike to him arose from 
 the jar which his appearance occasioned to my sense of 
 beauty. As a matter of conscience, I tried to like him ; 
 but I am afraid the exertion was not very severe. 
 
 After tea, I went back to the sitting-room, while my 
 uncle took Bolty's place and allowed the latter to get his 
 meal in turn. Then it was necessary to wait until the 
 store should be closed for the night, and, to divert the 
 time. Aunt Peggy brought me the " Life of Henry Martyn," 
 which I read with hearty interest. '' A good model," said 
 my uncle, looking over my shoulder, as he came in, after 
 the shutters had been duly fastened and bolted. 
 
 " Shut it up now," he continued. " We go early to bed, 
 and get up early, in this house. Bolty, come here, and 
 help John up-stairs with his trunk." 
 
 Bolty seized one end of the unwieldy box, and we slowly 
 bumped and stumbled up two flights of stairs, into a large 
 room under the roof, with a single window in the gable. I 
 remarked, with a disagreeable sensation, that there wa.s 
 only one bed, and that one not remarkably broad. The 
 big, coarse fellow would be sure to usurp the most of it, 
 and his broad nose and open mouth indicated an immerse 
 capacity for snoring. Besides, I was always, from a very 
 child, exceedingly sensitive to what I may call, for want of 
 a better term, human electricity ; that is to say, certain 
 persons attract me. or impart a sense of comfort, by theii 
 physical nearness, while others repel or convey an impres
 
 94 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 sion of vague discomfort This feeling seems to have n 
 connection with beauty or ugliness, health or disease, or ever 
 affection or enmity. It arises from some subtle affinity oi 
 physical temperament, like that which we occasionally no- 
 tice in the vegetable world. There are certain plants which 
 flourish or droop in the neighborhood of certain others. I 
 think this delicate, intangible sense is general among culti- 
 vated persons, but I have never found it developed to the 
 same extent as in my own case. 
 
 I could not justly class Bolty Himpel among those 
 strongly repellant natures whose approach to me was like 
 that of a poisonous wind, but there was sufficient of the feel- 
 ing to make the necessity of lying all night in his " atmos- 
 phere " very distasteful. However, there was no help for 
 it ; he had already asked me, 
 
 " Which side '11 you take ?" 
 
 I chose that nearest the window, and soon fell asleep, 
 wearied with the changing excitements of the day. It was 
 not long, apparently, before the bedstead creaked and 
 shook, and a loud voice yelled, " Tumble out ! " 
 
 The dawn was glimmering through the window. Bolty 
 was already hauling on his trousers, and I rose and looked 
 out To my delight I could see the long, majestic outline 
 of Penn's Mount above the houses, its topmost trees mak- 
 ing a dark fringe against the morning sky. The view be- 
 came a part of my garret-furniture, and changed the aspect 
 of the room at once. 
 
 " Boss is pretty sharp," said Bolty to me, as I commenced 
 dressing ; u he opens half an hour sooner and keeps open 
 half an hour later than any other grocery in the town. 
 "f a'u't a bad plan. People get to know it and they come 
 to us when they can't go nowhere else. It keeps us on the 
 go, though. You ha'n't done nothin' at business, ha'n't 
 you?" 
 
 " No." I answered ; " I 've been at school. 'T was Uncle 
 Amos's plan tii I should come here, and I don't kncvw 
 how I '11 like it."
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 95 
 
 " Oh, \ou '11 soon git the hang of it. I don't s'pose he '11 
 put yon to rollin' o' bar*ls and openin' o' boxes. Y' a'n't 
 built for that." 
 
 Whereupon Bolty deliberately squeezed and twisted the 
 muscles of mj upper arm, in such wise that they were sore 
 for the rest of the day. - k That 's the crow-bar," said he. 
 bending and stiffening his own right arm, until the flexor 
 rose like an arch ; " and them 's the death-mauls." shak' 
 ing his clenched fists. These expressions he had evidently 
 picked up from some canal boatman. Their force and 
 fierceness contrasted comically with the vacant good-humor 
 written on his face. 
 
 We went down to the shop and opened the shutters. 
 There was little custom before breakfast, so I lounged 
 about behind the counter, pulling open drawers of spices 
 and reading the labels on bottles and jars. After all, I 
 thought, there are more disagreeable avocations in the 
 world than that of a grocer, bricklaying, for instance. I 
 determined to do my share of the work faithfully, whether 
 I liked it or not. I was in my nineteenth year, and, at the 
 worst, would be my own master at twenty-one. 
 
 Bolty was right in his conjecture. He had not only more 
 strength than myself, but greater mechanical dexterity, and 
 consequently the heavy work fell to his share. My uncle, 
 finding that I wrote a neat hand and was a good arithme- 
 tician, gradually initiated me into the mysteries of day-book 
 and ledger. I also assisted in waiting upon the customers. 
 and in a few days became sufficiently expert at sliding 
 sugar or coffee out of the scoop, so as to turn the scale by 
 the weight of a grain or single bean, settling the contents 
 in paper bags, and tying them squarely and compactly. My 
 uncle was too shrewd a business-man to let me learn at the 
 expense of customers : I was required to cover the counter 
 with packages of various weights, the contents of which 
 were afterwards returned to the appropriate bins or barrels. 
 Thus, while J was working off my awkwardness, the grocerj
 
 96 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 presented an air of unusual patronage to its innocent vis- 
 itors. 
 
 Many of our customers were farmers of the vicinity, who 
 brought their eggs, butter, and cheese, to exchange for gro 
 ceries. This was a profitable part of the business, as we 
 gained both in buying and selling. There was a great de- 
 mand among these people for patent medicines, which 
 formed a very important branch of my uncle's stock, and 
 he could have found no better salesman than Bolty Ilimpel. 
 The latter discovered, in an incredibly short time, from 
 what neighborhood a new customer came, and immediately 
 gave an account of the relief which somebody, living in an 
 opposite direction, had derived from the use of certain pills 
 or plasters. 
 
 " Weakness o' the back, eh ? " he would say to some mel- 
 ancholy-faced countrywoman ; " our Balm of Gilead 's the 
 stuff for that. Only three levies a bottle ; rub it in with 
 flannel, night and mornin'. Mr. Hempson you know 
 him, p'r'aps, down on Poplar Neck ? was bent double 
 with the rheumatiz, and two bottles made him as straight 
 as I am. Better take some o' the Peruvian Preventative, 
 while you 're about it, ma'am, keeps off chills and fevers. 
 Deacon Dingey sent all the way down from Port Clinton 
 t' other day for some : they don't keep it there. Lives in 
 a ma'shy place, right on to the river, and they ha'n't hud a 
 chill in the family since they use 'em. I reckon we 've 
 sold wheelbarra loads." 
 
 I noticed, in the course of time, that Uncle Amos never 
 interfered with Bolty's loquacity, unless (which happened 
 very rarely) his recommendation was overdone and the cus- 
 tomer became suspicious. Sometimes, indeed, he said, with 
 a gravity not wholly natural, " Rather too strong. Don't 
 tell more than you know." 
 
 " Oh." Bolty would answer, " 't won't kill if it don't cure." 
 
 This youth had an astonishing memory of names and 
 faces, a faculty in which, probably from want of practice
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 97 
 
 I was deficient. His German also made him indispensa- 
 ble to many of the country people. My uncle possessed a 
 tolerable smattering of the language, and insisted that I 
 should endeavor to learn it. " It 's more use than the hea- 
 thenish Latin you learned in school," said he. 
 
 " Why, Uncle Amos," I retorted, " I read Sacred His- 
 tory in Latin." 
 
 " Then it was n't the Word of God, which was inspired 
 in Hebrew," he answered. 
 
 I had determined to go on alone with my Latin studies, 
 and his disapprobation of the language troubled me. I 
 could not, as I proposed, bring the books down to the desk 
 behind the counter, and devote the end of the evening to 
 them, without incurring his pious censure. Against Ger- 
 man he would have no such scruples, and I decided, though 
 with regret, to take that language instead. I remembered 
 that Grandfather Hatzfeld, who had been educated in 
 Bethlehem, spoke it habitually, and that my mother . re- 
 tained her knowledge of it to the last. Among her books 
 was an old edition of Herder and Liebeskind's " Palmblat- 
 ter." which she had often read to me, as a child, and I had 
 then understood. This early knowledge, however, had long 
 since faded to a blank, but it left the desire to be renewed 
 and perhaps unconsciously smoothed the first difficulties of 
 the study. 
 
 I saw little of Aunt Peggy, except at meals and on Sun- 
 days. Having never had any children of her own, she 
 would scarcely have been able to assume a motherly atti- 
 tude towards me ; but I do not think she tried. Her share 
 in the conversation was generally of a discouraging cast, 
 and the subject which most seemed to excite her interest 
 was a case of backsliding which had recently occurred in 
 my uncle's church For several days the latter added to 
 his tri-daily grace a prayer " that them which have forsaken 
 the light may be brought back to it, and that them which 
 wander in darkness may be led to seek it ! " He was tin- 
 7
 
 98 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES- 
 
 doubtedly sincere in this prayer, and I could have joined 
 in it, had I not been suspicious enough to guess that the 
 latter clause must be aimed at myself. 
 
 On Sundays, Bolty and I went twice to church with my 
 ancle and aunt, dutifully joining in the hymns, as I had 
 been accustomed to do with my mother. I declined taking 
 a class in the Sunday-school, much to my uncle's displeas- 
 ure ; but, after being confined to the store all the week, I 
 felt an urgent craving for a mouthful of fresh air and the 
 freedom of the landscape. Sometimes I climbed high up 
 the sides of Mount Penn, whence the brown tints of the 
 coming winter vanished far off in delicious blue ; but more 
 frequently I walked northward to the knoll now covered 
 by the Cemetery, and enjoyed the luxury of a wide look- 
 out on all sides. In the evening, Bolty was allowed to visit 
 his father, an honest, hard-working shoemaker, living on 
 the eastern edge of the town, and I occasionally accompa- 
 nied him. The family conversation was entirely in Ger- 
 man, so that these visits were not much of a recreation, 
 after all. 
 
 I soon saw that the literary performances which had 
 been my pride and delight at school must be given up. at 
 least for the winter. There was no fire in the garret bed- 
 room, and I was not likely to be left in possession of the 
 sitting- roon. behind the store more than once a month.
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. &S 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 DESCRIBING CERTAIN INCIDENTS OF MY LIFE IN REAIHNO 
 
 THE winter, having fairly set in, dragged on its monoto- 
 nous round. During the cold weather there was less to 
 do in the store, and I had frequent hours of leisure, which I 
 passcxl on my high stool at the desk, reading such books as 
 I could procure, and a few which I bought. The sale of 
 the cottage and furniture left a surplus of sixty-seven dol- 
 lars, after paying the expenses of my mother's funeral and 
 my lust term at Dr. Dvmond's. On making this statement, 
 as my guardian, my uncle said, 
 
 " You don't need any more clothes this winter, and you 'd 
 better let me put this out for you. You'll have no ex- 
 penses here, as I count that what you do in the store will 
 about balance your board." 
 
 I greatly longed to have the whole sum in my hands, but 
 offered to let him " put out " fifty dollars and give me the 
 remainder. He consented, though with an ill grace, say- 
 ing, " It is n't good to give boys the means of temptation.'' 
 
 I had never before had one tenth part as much money 
 in my pocket, and it gave me a wonderfully comfortable 
 feeling of wealth and independence. My first step was to 
 buy an octavo volume, containing the poems of Milton, 
 Young. Gray, Beattie, and Collins, every word of which I 
 faithfully read. (I wonder whether anybody else ever did 
 the same thing.) I also purchased a blank diary, with 
 headings for every day in the year, and kept it in the breast- 
 pocket of my coat, with fear and trembling lest it should 
 be left lying where my uncle miVht find and read it. For
 
 (00 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 a month or two the entries were very regular, then more 
 and more fragmentary, and before summer they ceased 
 altogether. The little volume, with its well-worn cover 
 and embrowned paper, is now lying before me. I turn its 
 pages with a smile at its extravagant sentiment and imma- 
 ture reflections. Can it be that I really wrote such stuff 
 as this ? 
 
 " Jan. 28. Cold and cloudy emblematic of my life, 
 hi the afternoon, gleams of sunshine, flashing like the 
 wings of angels. Would I too could sour above these sub- 
 lunary cares ! Read ' Childe Harold ' while uncle was 
 out Is it wrong to steal one's intellectual food ? No ; the 
 famishinff\soul must have nourishment!" 
 
 As I became familiar with the routine of my duties, and 
 Uncle Amos found that the accounts could be safely in- 
 trusted to my care, he frequently left the store to Bolty 
 and myself, and made short trips into the country for the 
 purpose of procuring supplies and perfecting his system of 
 exchange. In this way he snapped up many a pound of 
 butter and dozen of eggs, which wo'uld have found their 
 way to other groceries ; and during the season when those 
 articles were rather scarce he was always well supplied, 
 a fact which soon became known and brought a notable 
 increase of custom. He also went to Philadelphia, to make 
 his purchases of the wholesale dealers in person, instead 
 of ordering them by letter. We, of course, felt a greater 
 responsibility during his absence, and were very closely 
 confined to our duties. Bolty had no other ambition than 
 to set up in business for himself, some clay ; it was an aim 
 he never lost sight of, and I was sure he would reach it 
 For my part, having been forced into my present position, 
 I longed for the coming of the day which would release 
 me, but I was too conscientious either to break loose from 
 it or to slight my share of the labor. 
 
 About the beginning of April, either from the close con- 
 finement within-doors to which I had been subjected, or to
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FOiriTNT.S. 10i 
 
 BOnie change in my system. for I was still growing, and 
 had now attained the average height of men, I was at- 
 tacked with fever. The malady was not severe nor dan- 
 gerous, but stubborn ; and though, after a week's confine- 
 ment to the spare bedroom on the second story, I was able 
 to sit up and move about again, the physician prescribed 
 rest for a fortnight longer, with moderate exercise when 
 the weather was fine. Aunt Peggy waited upon me as well 
 as she was able : that is, when her household duties had 
 been performed, she brought her knitting and sat by the 
 stove at the foot of my bed, asking occasionally, in a tear- 
 ful voice, " How do you feel, John ? " Fortunately, I re- 
 quired no watching at night, for there was no element of 
 tenderness in the house to make it endurable. My uncle 
 took my place in the store, though it must have been a seri- 
 ous interruption to his outside plans. He acquiesced, with- 
 out apparent impatience, in the doctor's prescription of 
 further rest 
 
 During those days of convalescence I experienced a 
 delicious relief and lightness of heart Spring had burst 
 suddenly upon the Jand with a balmy brightness and 
 warmth which lingered, day after day, belying the fickle 
 fame of the month. Walking down Penn Street and cross- 
 ing the bridge, I would find a sunny seat on the top of the 
 gray cliff beyond, and bask in the soft awakening of the 
 landscape around. The bluebird sang like the voice of 
 the season ; below me, in gardens and fields, I saw how the 
 dark brown of the mellow earth increased for the planting, 
 and how sheets or cloudy wafts of green settled over the 
 barrenness of winter. Again I became hopeful, joyous, 
 confident of the future. Time and the tenderness of mem- 
 ory had softened my grief: I often recalled mother's words 
 on her death-bed, and allowed no unavailing sting of re- 
 morse for neglected duties to cloud the serenity of my resig- 
 nation. It was thus, I felt, that she would have me to feel 
 and her sainted spirit must rejoice in the returning buoy- 
 ancy of mine.
 
 102 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 On one of those lovely April afternoons, as I was musing 
 on the cliff, my thoughts taking a vague, wandering 
 rhythm from the sound of a boatman's horn down the 
 river, the idea of writing something for publication came 
 into my mind. A poem, of course, for " Childe Harold," 
 " Manfred," and " The Corsair " had turned the whole drift 
 vf my ideas into a channel of imagined song. To write 
 some verses and have them printed would be joy triumph 
 glory. The idea took possession of me with irresistible 
 force. Two dollars out of my seventeen had gone for a 
 subscription to the Saturday Evening Post, an expense 
 at which Uncle Amos had grumbled, until he found that 
 Aunt Peggy took stealthy delight in perusing the paper. 
 In its columns I found charming poetry by Bessie Bulfinch 
 and Adeliza Choate, besides republications from contempo- 
 rary English literature, especially Dickens. B. Simmons. 
 T. K. Hervey, and Charles Swain became, for me, demi- 
 gods of song : I could only conceive of them as superior 
 beings, of lofty stature and majestic beauty. I had never 
 seen a man who had written a book. Even the editors 
 of the Gazette and Adler, in Reading, were personages 
 whose acquaintance I did not dare to seek. There was 
 always a half-column in the Post, addressed "To Cor- 
 respondents," containing such messages as, " Ivanhoe's 
 story contains some sweet passages, but lacks incident : de- 
 clined with thanks ; " or, " The ' Fairy's Bower.' by ' Ce- 
 cilia,' is a poem of much promise, and will appear next 
 week." I invariably read the articles thus accepted, and, 
 while I recognized their great merit, (for were they not 
 printed ?) it seemed to me that, by much exertion. I might 
 one day achieve the right to appear in their ranks. 
 
 After having given hospitality to the idea, I carried pen- 
 cil and paper with me, and devoted several afternoons to 
 the poem. It was entitled. " The Unknown Bard " (mean- 
 ing myself, of course), written in heroic lines, after I had 
 vainly attempted the Spenserian stanza. As nearly as I
 
 .<JHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 10S 
 
 ^an .ecoliect, there were fifty or sixty lines of it. describing 
 my intellectual isolation, and how I must stifle the burning 
 thoughts that filled my bosom, lest the cold world should 
 crush me with its envenomed scorn ! I signed myself 
 " Selim," a name which I found in Collins's First Eclogue, 
 and particularly admired. How I used to wish that some 
 <rood genius had inspired my mother to give me the name 
 of " Selim," or " Secander," instead of " John " ! However, 
 as " Selim " I would be known in the world of letters and 
 on the tablets of fame Selim, the Unknown Bard ! 
 
 Finished, at last, and copied in my distinctest hand, there 
 came the question how should I send it ? The clerk at 
 the post-office knew me, because I went there for my un- 
 cle's letters, and also, weekly, for my beloved newspaper. 
 Perhaps he also read the paper, and would be sure to find 
 a connection between my letter and the editorial answer to 
 Selim of Reading. Not for the world would I have in- 
 trusted the awful secret to a single soul, not even to Pen- 
 rose or Bob Simmons. Perhaps 1 should still have run 
 the risk, as I fancied it to be, of using the post, bi *. for a 
 most lucky and unexpected chance. Uncle Amos sug 
 gested that I should go to Philadelphia in his stead, on 
 some business relating to sugar, with the details of which I 
 was acquainted. I was almost too demonstrative in my 
 delight ; for my suspicious uncle shook his head, and made 
 it a condition that I should go down in the morning-train, 
 accomplish my mission at once, and return the same even- 
 ing. 
 
 On reaching the right-angled city. I found my way with 
 little difficulty to " Simpson & Brother," Market Street, 
 near Second, and, after very faithfully transacting the busi- 
 ness, had still two hours to spare before the departure of 
 the return-train. The newspaper office was near at hand. 
 Chestnut, above Third, and thither I repaired, with 
 flushed face and beating heart, the precious epistle held 
 fast in mj hand, yet carefully concealed under my sleeve
 
 104 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 lest any one, in passing by, should read the siiperscriptiot 
 and guess the contents. I do not smile at myself, as I re 
 call this experience. The brain, like the heart, has its vir 
 n nnity, and its first earnest utterance is often as tremulouslv 
 shy as the first confession of love. 
 
 My intention had been to deliver the letter at the office 
 of the paper, as if I had been simply its bearer and not its 
 author. But after I had mounted two dark, steep flights 
 of steps, and found myself before the door, my courage 
 failed me. I heard voices within : there were several per- 
 sons, then. They would be certain to look at me sharply 
 
 to notice my agitation perhaps to question me about 
 the letter. While I was standing thus, twisting and turn- 
 ing it in my hand, in a veritable perspiration from excite- 
 ment, I heard footsteps descending from an upper story. 
 Desperate and panic-stricken, I laid the letter hastily on 
 the floor, at the door of the office, and rushed down to the 
 street as rapidly and silently as possible. Without looking 
 around, I walked up Chestnut Street with a fearful impres- 
 sion that somebody was following me, and turning the cor- 
 ner of Fourth, began to read the titles of the books in 
 Hart's window. Five minutes having elapsed, I knew that 
 I was not discovered, and recovered my composure ; though, 
 now that the poem had gone out of my hands, I would 
 have given anything to get it back again. 
 
 When the next number of the paper arrived, I tore off 
 the wrapper with trembling fingers and turned to the fate- 
 ful column on the second page. But I might as well have 
 postponed my excitement : there was no notice of the poem. 
 Perhaps they never received the letter, perhaps it had 
 been trodden upon and defaced, and swept down-stairs by 
 the office-boy ! These were, at least, consoling possibilities, 
 
 better that than to be contemptuously ignored. By the 
 following week my fever was nearly over, and I opened the 
 paper with but a faint expectation of finding anything ; but 
 lo ! there it was, " Selim " at the very head of the an
 
 JOHN" GODFREY'S FORTUNES. lOc 
 
 oouncements ! These were the precious words : ' vV^e are 
 obliged to Selim ' for his poem, which we shall publish 
 shortly. It shows the hand of youth, but evinces a flatter- 
 ing promise. Let him trim the midnight lamp with dili- 
 gence." 
 
 If the sinking sun had wheeled about and gone up the 
 western sky, or the budding trees had snapped into full leaf 
 in five minutes, I don't believe it would have astonished 
 me. I was on my way home from the post-office when I read 
 the lines, and I remember turning out of Penn Street to gc 
 by a more secluded and circuitous way, lest I should be 
 tempted to cut a pigeon-wing on the pavement, in the sight 
 of the multitude. I passed a little brick building, with a tin 
 sign on the shutter, " D. J. Mulford, Attorney-at-Law." 
 " Pooh ! " I said to myself; " what 's D. J. Mulford ? He 
 never published a poem in his life ! " As I caught a 
 glimpse of his head, silhouetted against the back window, 
 I found myself, nevertheless, rather inclined to pity him for 
 being unconscious that the author of '' The Unknown Bard" 
 was at that moment passing his door. 
 
 This disproportionate exultation, the reader will say, be- 
 trayed shallow waters. Why should I not admit the fact ? 
 
 My mind was exceedingly shallow, at that time, but, 
 thank I leaven ! it was limpid as a mountain brook. It 
 could have floated no craft heavier than a child's toy-sloop, 
 but the sun struck through it and filled its bed with light. 
 If it is expected that we should feel ashamed of our intel 
 lectual follies, we must needs regret that we were ever voting. 
 
 When the poem at last appeared, after a miserably weary 
 interval of two or three weeks, I was a little mortified to 
 find that some liberty had been taken with the language 
 WTiere I had written hath " I found " has " substituted 
 and. what was worse. " Fame's eternal brow." which I thought 
 so grand, was changed into " Fame's resplendent brow." 
 The poem did n't seem quite mine, with these alterations 
 they look the keen edge off my pride and my happiness
 
 1 06 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 However, Selim was at last the companion, if not the equal, 
 of Bessie Bulfinch and Adeliza Choate, that was a greal 
 point gained. I determined that he should not relapse intc 
 silence. 
 
 My next essay was a tale, called " Envy ; or, the Maiden 
 of Ravenna." I am ashamed to say that I placed the city 
 upon the summit of a frightful precipice, the base of which 
 was washed by the river Arno ! Laurelia, the maiden of 
 the story, fell from the awful steep, but fortunately alighted 
 on the branch of a weeping willow, which gently transferred 
 her to the water, whence she was rescued by the Knight 
 Grimaldi. But this story proved too much even for the 
 kindly editor, whose refusal was so gentle and courteous 
 that it neither wounded my pride nor checked my ambi- 
 tion. 
 
 One day in early summer I happened to pass again by 
 the office of D. J. Mulford. I glanced at the sign me- 
 chanically, and was going on, when a terrible thumping on 
 the window-panes startled and arrested me. I stopped : the 
 window was suddenly raised, and who but Charley Rand 
 poked his head out ! 
 
 " I say, Godfrey ! " he cried ; " come in here a minute ! 
 Mulford 's out, and I have the office to myself." 
 
 " Why, Rand," said I, as he opened the door for me, 
 " how did you get here ? " 
 
 " Sit down, and [ '11 tell you all about it. Father said, 
 you know, that I might be a lawyer, if I had a mind. Well, 
 this spring, when he found I had Latin enough to tell him 
 what posse comitatus meant, and scire facias, and venditioni 
 exponas, and so on, such as you see in the sheriff's adver- 
 tisements, he thought I was ready to begin the study. I 
 had no objections, for I knew that the school would be dull, 
 with Penrpse, Marsh, Brotherton, and most of the older 
 boys gone, and, besides, it 's time I was seeing a little more 
 life. Many fellows set up in business for themselves at my 
 age. Mulford 's father's lawyer, whenever he 's obliged to
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 107 
 
 have one ; I suppose he '11 be my first client after 1 pass 
 I 've been here ten days, and was just thinking I must find 
 you out, when I saw you go by the window. Have a cigar ? ' 
 
 I declined the offer, and politely, considering my abhor 
 rence of the custom. 
 
 " You 've grown, Godfrey," Rand continued, hauling a 
 second chair towards him and hoisting his feet upon the 
 arms. " and I see you 're getting some fuzz on your chin. 
 You '11 be a man soon, and I should n't wonder if you \\ 
 make your murk some day." 
 
 I overlooked the patronizing manner of this remark in its 
 agreeable substance. And here I should explain that Char- 
 ley Rand was now by no means the same youth as on the da)' 
 when we were together intrusted to Dr. Dymond's care. 
 Until then he had been petted and humored in every pos- 
 sible way, and was selfish and overbearing in his manner. 
 A few months among forty or fifty boys, however, taught 
 him to moderate his claims. He was brought down to the 
 common level, and with that flexibility of nature which was 
 his peculiar talent, or faculty, leaped over to the opposite 
 extreme of smooth-tongued subservience. What he had 
 ceased to gain by impudence, he now endeavored to obtain 
 by coaxing, flattering, and wheedling. In the latter art he 
 soon became an adept. Many a time have I worked out 
 for him some knotty problem, in violation of the rules of 
 the school, and in violation, also, of my own sense of right, 
 cajoled by his soft, admiring, affectionate accents. I do not 
 describe his character as I understood it then, but as I 
 afterwards learned it I was still his dupe. 
 
 In the space of half an hour he managed to extract from 
 me the particulars of my life and occupation in Reading. 
 He already knew, in ten days, much more about the prin- 
 cipal families of the place than I had learned in eight 
 months. After this interview, I soon got the habit of walk- 
 ing around to Mul ford's office on Sunday afternoons and 
 spending an hour or two with him. We sat in the back
 
 108 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 room, which opened on a little yard covered with weeds 
 boards, and broken bottles, so that the proprieties of the 
 street-side of the building were carefully respected. I 
 felt less lonely, now that there was a schoolmate within 
 hail. 
 
 In my uncle's house things went on very much as usual 
 Bolty and I had scarcely any taste in common, (unless it 
 was a fondness for pea-nuts, which I retain to this clay.) 
 but we never quarrelled. As we were strictly attentive to 
 our respective duties, my uncle seemed to be satisfied with 
 us, and was, for this reason perhaps, forbearing in other 
 respects. Aunt Peggy adhered to her monotonous house- 
 hold round, and made no attempt to control my actions, 
 except when I bought white linen instead of nankeen, for 
 summer wear. '' There '11 be no end to the washin' of it," 
 she said, in a voice so suggestive of tears that I expected 
 to see her take out her handkerchief. 
 
 It was plain to me that Uncle Amos intended to enlarge 
 his business as rapidly as was consistent with his prudent 
 and cautious habits. I had good reason to believe that my 
 services were included in his pians ; vet though I was 
 
 j. ' *j O 
 
 more firmly fixed than ever in my determination to leave 
 when his legal guardianship should cease, I judged it best 
 to be silent on this point It would only lead to tedious 
 sermons, discussions in which neither could have the 
 least sympathy with the other's views, and possibly a per- 
 manent and very disagreeable disturbance in our relations 
 towards each other- I do not think he recognized, as I 
 did, that I had quietly established an armistice, which I 
 could at any time annul. 
 
 In one sense, Bolty was my aid. He never mentioned 
 the subject but I understood then as well as I do now that 
 he knew my want of liking for the business, and was satis 
 fied that it should be so. After the weather grew warm 
 enough, I resumed my Latin studies in the garret ; thither 
 also I took prohibited books, and filled quires of paper with
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 109 
 
 extracts and comments, feeling, instinctively, that my com- 
 panion would never betray me. 
 
 This sort of life was not what I would have chosen. It 
 was far from satisfying the cravings of heart and brain 
 but I bore it with patience, looking forward to the day of 
 release-
 
 110 .IUHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES- 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 1M WHICH I OUGHT TO BE A SHEEP, BUT PROVE TO Bl 
 A GOAT. 
 
 THERE was one point upon which I was always appre- 
 hensive that Uncle Amos would assail me. It dated from 
 that first evening in the little cottage at the Cross- Keys 
 the previous summer. What I have said of my shrinking 
 delicacy of feeling with regard to my poetic attempts will 
 equally apply to the religious sentiment. A dear and ten- 
 der friend might have found me willing to open my heart 
 to him concerning sacred things ; but I could not, dared 
 not, admit a less privileged person to the sanctuary. I had 
 not the courage or the independence necessary to arrest 
 my uncle's approach to the subject, and was therefore pre- 
 ternaturally watchful and alert in retreating. Very often. 
 I suspect, I fancied an ambush where none existed. My 
 uncle probably saw that- he must tread cautiously, and feel 
 his way by degrees, for I only remember one conversation 
 in the course of the summer which really disturbed me. 
 
 My poor mother had been an earnest Lutheran, of the 
 hearty, cheerful, warm-blooded German sort. She always 
 preferred thanksgiving for God's mercies to fear of His 
 wrath, and had brought me up in the faith that the beauties 
 and blessings of this life might be enjoyed without forfeit- 
 ing one's title as a Christian. At the age of fourteen I 
 had been confirmed, and was therefore to be considered as 
 a member of the Church. At least, I supposed that the 
 principal religious duty thenceforth required of me was to 
 follow God's commandments as nearly as my imperfect
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. Ill 
 
 human nature would allow. I never closed my eyes in 
 sleep without invoking the protection of my only Father, 
 with a grateful feeling in my heart of hearts that He did 
 indeed hear and heed me. I did not fear damnation 
 because I had nt)t the slightest liking for the Devil. 
 
 I knew little or nothing of the slight partitions which 
 divide the multitudinous sects of the Christian world, and 
 was not the least troubled in conscience at attending my 
 uncle's church instead of my own. Whatever was doc- 
 trinal 'n the latter I had forgotten since my confirmation, 
 probably because it had then made very little impres- 
 sion on my mind. My uncle's clergyman was a mild, ami- 
 able man, whose goodness it was impossible to doubt, and I 
 listened to his sermons with proper reverence. 
 
 Something, I know not what, possibly some memory 
 of my mother, led me, one Sunday in summer, to attend 
 the Lutheran church. The well-known hymns fell on my 
 ear with a home-like sound, and the powerful tones of the 
 organ seemed to lift me to new devotional heights. In the 
 sermon I felt the influence of a strong, massive intellect, 
 the movements of which I could not always follow, but 
 which stimulated and strengthened me. After this, I 
 divided my Sundays nearly equally between the two 
 churches. On informing my uncle and aunt, at dinner, 
 where I had been, the former was at first silent ; but, after 
 some grave reflection, asked me, 
 
 " Are you a member of that persuasion ? " 
 
 "Oh, yes," I answered, "just the same as mother and 
 Aunt Peggy." 
 
 I struck a blow without intending it Aunt Peggy 
 looked startled and uneasy ; a strong color came into her 
 face ; then, after a quick glance at uncle, she lifted her 
 hands and exclaimed, " No ! Praise and Glory, not now ! " 
 
 " Hem ! " coughed Uncle Amos ; " never mind, Peggy ; 
 blessed are them that see ! " Then, turning to me, he 
 added, " Do you mean that you have professed faith and 
 been baptized ? "
 
 I 1 2 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 u I was baptized when I was a baby," I answered, " ana 
 confirmed when I was fourteen." 
 
 " Have you experienced a change of heart ? '* 
 
 "No," I boldly said, thinking that he meant to indicate 
 infidelity, or some kind of backsliding, by this term. 
 
 Uncle Amos, to my surprise, uttered a loud groan, and 
 Aunt Peggy made that peculiar clucking noise with her 
 tongue against her teeth, which some women employ to 
 signify disaster or lamentation. 
 
 " You feel, then," said Uncle Amos, after a long pause, 
 " that your nature is utterly corrupt and sinful. Do you 
 not see what a mockery it is to claim that you are a fol- 
 lower of the Lamb ? " 
 
 " No, uncle ! " I cried, indignantly ; " I am not corrupt 
 and sinful. I don't pretend to be a saint but no one has a 
 right to call me a sinner. I have kept all the command- 
 ments, except the tenth, and I never broke that without 
 repenting of it afterwards. Mother belonged to the Lu- 
 theran Church, and I won't hear anything said against 
 it!" 
 
 For a moment an equally earnest reply seemed to be 
 hovering on my uncle's tongue ; but he checked himself 
 with a strong effort, groaned in a subdued way. and re- 
 marked with unusual gravity, " Darkness ! darkness ! " His 
 manner towards me, for a day or two afterwards, was unu- 
 sually solemn. The exigencies of business, however, soon 
 restored our ordinary relations. 
 
 In the autumn, my uncle's church was visited by a noted 
 " revival " preacher, whose coming had been announced 
 some time in advance. He was a Kentuckian, of consid- 
 erable fame in his own sect, and even beyond its borders, 
 so that his appearance never failed to draw crowds together. 
 As this was his first visit to Reading, it was an event 
 which could not, of course, be allowed to go by without giv- 
 ing the church the full benefit of the impression he should 
 produce, and a large increase of the congregation was 
 counted upon as a sure result
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 113 
 
 Finally, Mr. Brandreth, the resident clergyman, an 
 oounced with unusual unction that " on the next Sabbath 
 Brother Mellowby would occupy the pulpit." The news im- 
 mediately spread through the town, and was duly announced 
 in the papers. When the clay and hour arrived, the church 
 was so crowded that extra benches were brought and placed 
 lengthwise along the aisles. Expectation was on tiptoe 
 when, after the hymn had been sung and Mr. Brandreth 
 had made a prayer in which the distinguished brother was 
 not forgotten, a tall form arose and stood in the pulpit. 
 Brother Mellowby was over six feet in height, and rather 
 lank, but with broad, square shoulders and massive face. 
 His eyes were large and dark, and his black hair, growing 
 straight upward from his forehead, turned and fell on either 
 side in long locks, which tossed and waved in the wind of 
 his eloquence. 1 1 is cheek-bones were prominent, his mouth 
 large and expressive (that of Michael Angelo's " Moses " 
 still reminds me of it), and his chin square and strong. 
 Altogether, evidently a man of power and of purpose, but 
 with more iron than gold in his composition. He looked, to 
 me. as if he had at one time been near enough to Hell to feel 
 the scorch of its flames, and had thence fought his way to 
 Heaven by sheer force of a will stronger than the Devil's. 
 
 The commencement of his sermon was grave, earnest, 
 and deliberate. It held the attention of the congregation 
 rather by the clear, full, varied music of his voice than by 
 any peculiar force of expression. Tow r ards the close, how- 
 ever, as he touched upon the glories of the Christian's fu- 
 ture reward, the wonderful power of his voice and the 
 warmth of his personal magnetism developed themselves. 
 Looking upwards, with rapt ecstatic gaze, he seemed verily 
 to behold what he described, the clouds opening, the 
 glory breaking through, the waving of golden palnis in the 
 hands of the congregated angels, the towers of the New 
 Jerusalem, shining far off, in deeps of infinite lustre, the 
 green Eden of Heaven, watered by the River of Life, 
 8
 
 114 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 and :hen, glory surpassing all these glories, the unimagin 
 able radiance of the Throne. Still pointing upwards, as he 
 approached the awful light, he suddenly stopped, covered 
 his eyes, and in a voice of tremulous awe, exclaimed, " The 
 Seraphs veil their brows before Him, the eyes of the re- 
 deemed souls dare not look upon His countenance, the 
 mind clothed in corrupting flesh cannot imagine His glory ! " 
 
 The speaker sat down. I had scarcely breathed during 
 this remarkable peroration, and, when his voice ceased, 
 seemed to drop through leagues of illuminated air, to find 
 myself, with a shock, in my uncle's pew. For a few seconds 
 the silence endured ; then a singular, convulsive sound, which 
 was not a cry, yet could scarcely be called a groan, ran 
 through the church. Some voices exclaimed " Glory ! " the 
 women raised their handkerchiefs to their faces, and an un- 
 accustomed light shone from the eyes of the men. The 
 hymn commencing, " Turn to the Lord and seek salvation" 
 then arose from the congregation with a fervor which made 
 it seem the very trumpet-call and battle-charge of the ar- 
 mies of the Cross. 
 
 I did not go to church in the evening, but I heard that 
 the impression produced by Mr. Mellowby's first sermon 
 was still further increased by his second. Several " hope- 
 ful " cases were already reported, and the services were an- 
 nounced to continue through the week. My uncle proposed 
 that Bolty and I should relieve each other alternately, in the 
 evenings, so that we might both attend. I was prevented, 
 however, from going again until Wednesday, by which time 
 he had decided to put up the shutters an hour earlier, even 
 at the loss of some little custom. 
 
 On this occasion, Bolty and I went together. When we 
 entered the church, we found it well filled, and the atmos- 
 phere almost stifling. Brother Mellowby was " exhorting," 
 but, from a broad cross-aisle in front of the pews, up and 
 down which he walked, pausing now and then to turn and 
 hurl impassioned appeals to his sniditors. Whenever he
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 113 
 
 stopped a moment to recover breath, a wild chorus of eric* 
 and groans arose, mingled with exclamations of "Amen ! '' 
 " Glory ! " " Go on. Brother ! " Speaker and hearers were 
 evidently strung to the same pitch of excitement, and mut- 
 ually inspired each other. Mr. Brandreth, Uncle Amos, 
 and several prominent members of the congregation walked 
 up and down the aisles, seizing upon the timid or hesitating, 
 placing their arms about the necks of the latter, gentl} 
 coaxing them to kneel, or, when wholly successful, leading 
 them, sobbing and howling, to the " anxious seat " in front 
 of the pulpit. These intermediate agents were radiant with 
 satisfaction ; the atmosphere of the place seemed to exhila- 
 rate and agreeably excite them. For my part, I looked on 
 the scene with wonder, not unmixed with a sense of pain. 
 
 Brother Mellowby had been apparently engaged in per- 
 suasive efforts up to the time of my entrance. Some twelve 
 or fifteen persons had been moved, and were kneeling in 
 various attitudes some prostrate and silent, some crying 
 and flinging up their arms convulsively at the anxious 
 seat Others were weeping or groaning in their seats in the 
 pews, but still hung back from the step which proclaimed 
 them confessed sinners, seeking for mercy. It was to these 
 latter that the speaker now addressed himself with a new 
 and more powerfid effort 
 
 I can only attempt to describe it To my sensitive, 
 beauty-loving nature, it was awful, yet pervaded with a 
 wonderful fascination which held me to listen. He painted 
 the future condition of the unconverted with an imagina- 
 tion as terrible as his vision of the Christian's Heaven had 
 been dazzling and lovely. It was a feat of word-painting, 
 accompanied with dramatic gestures which brought the 
 white-hot sul ( .hur of Hell to one's very feet, and yith in 
 tonations of voice which suggested the eternal despair of 
 the damned. 
 
 " There ! " he cried, lifting his long arms high above his 
 head, and then bringing them down with a rushing swoop
 
 116 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 until his hands nearly touched the floor, " Sinners, there 
 is your bed ! In the burning lake in the bottomless seas 
 of fire, where the Evil that now flatters you with hon- 
 eyed kisses shall sting and gnaw and torture forever, 
 where the fallen angels themselves shall laugh at your ago- 
 nies, and the burning remorse of millions of ages shall no> 
 avail to open the gates of the pit ! For you will be forevei 
 sinking down down DOWN DOWN, in the eternity 
 of Hell ! " 
 
 He shouted out the last words as if crying from the 
 depths of anguish he had depicted. His face was like that 
 of a lost angel, grand and awful in its gloomy light Ex- 
 clamations of " Lord, have mercy ! " " Lord, save me ! " 
 arose all over the church, and some of the mourners in 
 front became frantic in their despairing appeals. Bolty, 
 at my side, was sobbing violently. For myself, I felt op- 
 pressed and bewildered ; my mind seemed to be narcotized 
 by some weird influence, though I was not conscious of any 
 terror on my soul's account. 
 
 Brother Mellowby's tone suddenly changed again. 
 Stretching forth his hands imploringly, he called, in ac- 
 cents of piercing entreaty, " Why do ye delay ? See, the 
 Redeemer stands ready to receive you ! Now is the ac- 
 cepted time, and now is the day of salvation. Kneel down 
 at His feet, acknowledge Him, lay your burden into His 
 willing hands. Oh, were your sins redder than scarlet 
 they shall be washed white; oh, were the gates now yarn- 
 ing to receive you, He would snatch you as a brand from 
 the burning ; oh, if your hearts are bniised and bleeding, 
 .they will be healed; oh, the tears will be wiped from your 
 eyes ; oh, your souls will rejoice and will sing aloud in grat- 
 itude and triumph, and you will feel the blessed assurance 
 of salvation which the world cannot take away '. " 
 
 Tears rolled down his cheeks as he uttered these words . 
 a softer yet not less powerful influence swayed the doubtful 
 mourners. They shook as reeds in the wind, and one by
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 117 
 
 one, amid shouts of " Glory ! glory ! " tottered forward and 
 sank down among the other suppliants. 
 
 I could not doubt the solemn reality of the scene. The 
 preacher felt, with every fibre of his body, that he was an 
 nouncing God's truth, and the " mourners." as they were 
 called, were, for the hour at least, sincere in their self-accu- 
 sations and their cry for some evidence of pardon. I com- 
 prehended also, from what I saw and heard, that there was 
 indeed a crisis or turning-point of the excitement, beyond 
 which the cries of penitence and supplication became joy- 
 ful hosannas. There, before me, human souls seemed to 
 be hovering in the balance, each fighting for itself the 
 dread battle of Armageddon, the issue of which was to fix 
 its eternal fate. Some were crouching in guilty fear of the 
 Wrath they had invoked, while others sprang upward with 
 radiant faces, as if to grasp the garments of the invisible 
 jerald of mercy. The tragedy of our spiritual nature, in 
 all its extremes of agony and joy, was there dimly enacted. 
 
 It was impossible to stand still and behold all this un- 
 moved. I was not conscious of being touched, either by 
 the Terror or the Promise : but a human sympathy with the 
 passion of the fluctuating, torn, and shattered spirits around 
 me drifted here and there like the eddies of ghosts in 
 the circles of Dante's " Purgatorio " filled me with bound- 
 less pity. The tears were running down my face before I 
 knew it. Yet I could not repress a feeling of astonish- 
 ment when I saw the impassive Bolty led forward weeping 
 and roaring for mercy, and bend down his bullet-head in 
 the midst of the mourners. 
 
 Presently Uncle Amos came towards me. He laid his 
 hand affectionately upon my shoulder, and said, with a tone 
 In which there was triumph as well as persuasion, " Ah, I 
 see you are touched at last, John. Now you will knor 
 what it is to experience Religion. The gates are opened 
 this night and there is joy and glory enough for ail. Comt 
 forward, and let us pray together."
 
 118 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 He took hold of my arm, but I drew back. I could not 
 plunge into that chaos of shrieks and sobbing, around the 
 '* anxious seat." 
 
 ' How ? " said my uncle, in grave surprise : " with all this 
 testimony of the saving power of Grace, you are not willing 
 to pray ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes." I answered, " I am willing to pray." 
 
 Come, then." 
 
 " I need not go there to do it. I can pray, in my heart, 
 here, just as well." 
 
 " Ah ! " he exclaimed, " it was thus that the Pharisee 
 prayed ; but the poor publican, who threw himself on the 
 ground and cried, ' God, be merciful to me a sinner ! ' made 
 the prayer which was accepted." 
 
 "No, Uncle Amos," I retorted, "the publican did not 
 throw himself upon the ground. The Bible says he stood 
 afar off, and smote upon his breast." 
 
 I was perfectly earnest and sincere in what I said, but I 
 verily believe that my uncle suspected a hidden sarcasm in 
 my words. He left me abruptly, and I soon saw him in 
 conversation with the Rev. Mr. Brandreth, in the forward 
 part of the aisle. It was not long before the latter, stopping 
 by the way to stoop and whisper encouragement into the 
 ears of some who were kneeling in the pews, approached 
 the place where I stood. I knew, immediately, that he had 
 been sent, but I did not shrink from the encounter, be- 
 cause, so far as I knew him, I had found him to be an ami- 
 able and kindhearted man. My tears of sympathy were 
 already dry, but I felt that I was trembling and excited. 
 
 " Brother Godfrey," said the clergyman, " are you ready, 
 to-night, to acknowledge your Saviour ? " 
 
 " I have always done it," I answered ; " I belong to the 
 Lutheran Church." 
 
 " You are a professing Christian, then ? " 
 
 I did not precisely know what meaning he attached tr 
 the word "professing." !>u' ' answered. " Yes."
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 119 
 
 " "We accept all such to free communion with us. Come 
 And unite with us in prayer for these perishing souls ! " 
 
 I again declined, giving him the same reason as I had 
 given to my uncle. But the clergyman's reply to this plea 
 was not so easy to evade. 
 
 " In the hearing of God," said he, " your prayer may be 
 just as fervent ; but, so far as your fellow-mortals are con- 
 cerned, it is lost. While you stand here, you are counted 
 among the cold and the indifferent. Give a visible sign of 
 your pious interest, my brother ; think that some poor, 
 limorous soul, almost ready to acknowledge its sin and cry 
 aloud for pardon, may be helped to eternal salvation by 
 your example. Come forward and pray for and with them 
 who are just learning to pray. If you feel the blessed 
 security in your own heart, oh, come and help to pour it 
 into the hearts of others ! " 
 
 He said much more to the same effect, and I found it 
 very difficult to answer him. I was bewildered and dis- 
 tressed, and my only distinct sensation was that of pain. 
 The religious sentiment in my nature seemed to be raked 
 and tortured, not serenely and healthfully elevated. But I 
 was too young to clearly comprehend either myself or 
 others, and I saw no way out of the dilemma except to 
 kneel, as Mr. Brandreth insisted, and pray silently for the 
 rest of the evening. 
 
 I therefore allowed him to lead me forward. The con- 
 gregation, of course, supposed that I came as another 
 mourner, another treasure-trove, cast up from the rag- 
 ing deeps, and greeted my movement with fresh shouts 
 and hosannas. Uncle Amos gave a triumphant exclama- 
 tion of " Glory ! " or, rather, " GULLOW-RY ! " as he pro- 
 nounced it, in the effort to make as much as possible out 
 of the word. Brother Mellowby tossed back his floating 
 hair, threw out his long arms, and cried, "Another still 
 another ! Oh, come all ! this night there is rejoicing it 
 Heaven ! This night the throne of Hell totters ! "
 
 120 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 The " anxious seat " was painful to contemplate at a dis 
 tance, but there was something terrifying in a nearer view. 
 A girl of twenty, whose comb had been broken in tearing 
 off her bonnet, leaped up and down, with streaming hair, 
 clapping her hands, and shouting, or rather chanting, 
 " Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, my soul ! " Another 
 lay upon her back on the floor, screaming, while Aunt 
 Peggy, leaning over the back of the next pew, fanned her 
 face with a palm-leaf fan. The men were less violent in 
 their convulsions, but their terrible weeping and sobbing 
 was almost more than I could bear to hear. 
 
 I was glad to sink into some vacant place, and bury my 
 face in my hands, that I might escape, in a measure, from 
 the curious eyes of the unconverted spectators and the mis- 
 taken rejoicings of the church-members. On either side 
 of me was a strong, full-grown man, one motionless, and 
 groaning heavily from time to time, while the other, after 
 spasms during which he threw up his head and arms, and 
 literally howled, fell down again, and confessed his secret 
 sins audibly at my very ear. He was either unconscious 
 of the proximity of others, or carried too far in his excite- 
 ment to care for it I could not avoid hearing the man's 
 acknowledged record of guilt, let not the reader imagine 
 that 1 ever betrayed him, and I remember thinking, 
 even in the midst of my own bewilderment, that he was a 
 very venial sinner, at the worst, and his distress was alto- 
 gether out of proportion to his offences. God would cer- 
 tainly pardon him. This thought led me to an examination 
 of my own life. To Uncle Amos I had rather indignantly 
 repelled the epithet of " sinner," but might I not, after all, 
 be more culpable than I had supposed ? Was there noth- 
 ing on account of which 1 might not plead for the Divine 
 pardon ? 
 
 But I was not allowed to proceed far in this silent sui- 
 vey of my life. Supposing, after my conversation with Mr. 
 Brandreth, that the attitude and fact of prayer was all thai
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 121 
 
 was required of me, as an evidence of sympathy and a pos 
 sible help to some hesitating soul, I made no further dem- 
 onstrations, but knelt, with my arms upon the bench and 
 my forehead bowed upon them. I was beginning to collect 
 my confused thoughts, when a lamenting female voice was 
 heard at my ear, "' How do you feel, John ? " 
 
 If a feeling of exasperation at such a place and time was 
 sinful, I sinned. " Aunt Peggy," I said, somewhat sternly, 
 (for I knew that unless I made answer the question 
 would be repeated,) " Aunt Peggy, T am trying to pray." 
 
 She left me, but I was not long alone. As soon as I 
 heard a combined creaking of boot-soles and knee-joints 
 behind me, I knew whose voice would follow. I was patted 
 on the back by a large, dumpy hand, and Uncle Amos said, 
 in a hollow undertone, " That 's right ; John, pray on ! shall 
 I help you to throw down your burden ? " 
 
 My nerves twitched and drew back, as his heavy arm 
 stole across my neck. This was the climax of my distress, 
 and I plucked up a desperate courage to meet it. " Uncle 
 Amos," said I, " I can neither pray nor think here, among 
 these people. Let me go home to my room, and I promise 
 you that, before I sleep to-night, I will know what is in my 
 heart and what are its relations to God ! " 
 
 Mr. Brandreth was standing near, and heard my words. 
 At least, some voice which I took to be his, whispered, " I 
 think it will be best" I have a dim recollection of getting 
 out of the church by the door in the rear of the pulpit ; of 
 my aunt walking home beside me, under the starry sky, 
 uttering lamentations to which I paid no heed ; of rushing 
 breathlessly up the staircase to my garret, opening the win 
 dow, drawing a chair beside it, resting my chin on the win- 
 dow-sill, and shedding tears of pure joy and relief on find- 
 ing myself alone in the holy peace and silence of the 
 night. The presence of God came swiftly down to me 
 from the starry deeps. " Here is my heart ! " cried a voice 
 in my breast ; " look at it Father, and tell me what I am ! '
 
 122 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 Then I seemed to behold it myself, and strove to disen- 
 tangle the roots of Self from the memory of my boyish life, 
 that I might stand apart and judge it. I found pride, im- 
 patience, folly ; but they were as light surface-waves which 
 disappeared with their cause. I found childish likes and 
 dislikes ; silly little enmities, which had left no sting ; 
 pranks, instigated by the spirit of Fun rather than that of 
 Evil ; and later, secret protests against the sorrows and 
 trials of my life. But all these things gave me lob's trouble 
 than one little incident which perversely clung to my mem- 
 ory, and still does, with a sense of shame which I shall 
 never be able to overcome. Several of us boys were play- 
 ing about the tavern at the Cross-Keys, one afternoon in 
 August, when a dealer in water-melons came by with a cart- 
 load of them for sale. We looked on, with longing eyes 
 and watery mouths, while he disposed of several ; and at 
 last the dealer generously gave us one which had been sev- 
 eral times " plugged," and was cracked at one end. We 
 hurried under the barn-bridge with our treasure, and agreed 
 to take " slice about," so as to have an equal division. The 
 crack, however, divided the solid, sweet, crimson centre 
 from the seedy strip next the rind so we commenced with 
 the latter, leaving a tower of delicious aspect standing in 
 the midst of the melon. I looked at it until I became 
 charmed, entranced, insane with desire to crush its cool, 
 sugared filigree upon my tongue, and when my next turn 
 came, stretched forth a daring hand and cut off the tower ! 
 The other boys looked at each other : one gave a long 
 whistle ; one exclaimed " Goy ! " and the third added the 
 climax by the sentence, " What a hog ! " Before I had fin- 
 ished eating the tower it had turned to gall and wormwood 
 in my mouth. I choked it down, however, and went home, 
 without touching the melon again. 
 
 That night, as I leaned upon the window-sill, and recalled 
 my faults and frailties, this incident came back and placed 
 itself in the front rank of my offences. I could look calmly,
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 123 
 
 or with a scarcely felt remainder of penitence, npon all 
 else, but my humiliation for this act burned as keenly as 
 on the first day. It so wearied me, finally, that I gave up 
 the retrospect. I was satisfied that God's omnipotent love, 
 not his wrath, overhung and embraced me ; that my heart, 
 though often erring and clouded, never consciously lusted 
 after Evil. I longed for its purification, not for its change. 
 I should not shrink from Death, if he approached, through 
 fear of the Hereafter ; I might receive a low seat in Para- 
 dise, but I certainly had done nothing and would not, 
 with God's help to deserve the awful punishment which 
 Brother Mellowby had described. 
 
 In relating this portion of my life, I tmst that I shall not 
 be misunderstood. I owe reverence to the spirit of Devo- 
 tion, in whatever form it is manifested, and have no inten- 
 tion of assailing, or even undervaluing, that which I have 
 just described. There are, undoubtedly, natures which can 
 only be reached by brandishing the menace of retribution, 
 perhaps, also, by the agency of strong physical excite- 
 ment. I do not belong to such. Religion enters my heart 
 through the gateway of Love and not that of Fear. The 
 latter entrance was locked and the key thrown away, al- 
 most before I can remember it. Brother Mellowby's revi- 
 val had an influence upon my after-fortunes, as will be seen 
 presently, and I therefore relate it precisely as it occurred. 
 
 Two hours passed away while I sat at the open window. 
 I cannot now repioduce all the movements of my mind, nor 
 follow the devious ways by which, at the last, I reached the 
 important result peace. When it was over, I felt languid 
 in body, but at heart immensely cheered and strengthened. 
 I foresaw that trouble awaited me, but I was better armed 
 to meet it 
 
 I had scarcely gone to bed, before Bolty made his ap- 
 pearance. From the suppressed shouts of "C.lory! Glo- 
 ry!" as he was ascending the last flight of stairs, I knew 
 that he had "got through," to use Uncle Amos's exprea
 
 124 .JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 sion. I therefore counterfeited sleep, and was regaled with 
 snatches of triumphant hymns, and a very long and hoarsely 
 audible prayer, delivered at the foot of the bed, before he 
 became subdued enough to sleep. The powers of his big 
 body must have been severely taxed, for, when I arose in 
 Ihe morning, he still lay locked in a slumber as heavy and 
 motionless as death. In fact, he did not awake until nearly 
 noon, Uncle Amos not allowing him to be disturbed. The 
 latter looked at me sharply and frequently during the day, 
 but he had no opportunity for reference to my spiritual con- 
 dition, except in the course of the unusually prolonged 
 grace at dinner. He prayed with unction both for Bolty 
 and myself. 
 
 In the evening, when he announced that we might again 
 put up the shutters at eight o'clock, in order to attend the 
 services, I quietly said, 
 
 " It is n't necessary, Uncle Amos. I am not going to 
 your church this evening." 
 
 He grew very red about the jaws, and the veins on his 
 forehead swelled. " What did you promise me last even- 
 ing ? " he asked. 
 
 " I have kept my promise," I answered. " It would be 
 a mockery if I should go forward with the rest to repent of 
 sins which have been already forgiven. I understand, now, 
 what you mean by a change of heart, but 1 do not need it." 
 
 Uncle Amos threw up his hands and exclaimed, ' Lord, 
 deliver me from vanity of heart ! " Aunt 1'eggy, in her 
 dingy bombazine bonnet, fell into spasms of clucking, and 
 this time did really shed a few tears as she cried, " To think 
 that one o' my family should be so hardened ! '' 
 
 " I should like to know where the Pharisees are now ! " 
 I cried, hot with anger. 
 
 " Come, wife, let us pray to-night for the obdoorate 
 sinner ! " said my uncle, taking her by the arm. Bolty fol- 
 lowed, and they all went to church, leaving me in the store. 
 
 After 1 had closed for the night, I resumed my post at
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 125 
 
 the bedroom-window, and reflected upon my probable po- 
 sition in the house. It had hitherto been barely endurable 
 to a youth of my tastes and my ambition, but now I foresaw 
 that it would become insupportable. Neither uncle nor 
 aunt, I was sure, would ever look upon me with favor ; and 
 even Bolty, who had thus far tacitly befriended me, might 
 think it his duty to turn informer and persecutor. I much 
 more than earned my board by my services, and therefore 
 recognized no moral obligation towards my uncle. The le- 
 gal one still existed, but it could not force me to lead a 
 slavish and unhappy life against my will. I should not get 
 possession of my little property for a year and a half; but 
 I could certainly trust to my own resources of hand or braia 
 in the meantime. The matter was soon settled in my mind 
 I would leave "A. Woolley's Grocery Store " fore> er.
 
 '26 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 CONCERNING MY ESTABLISHMENT IN UPPER SAMARIA. 
 
 I DEVOTED my first leisure hour to a confidential visit to 
 Charley Rand. His smooth, amiable ways had done much 
 to make our intercourse closer than it ever had been at 
 school, though there was still something in his face which 
 led me occasionally to distrust him. His mottled gray 
 eyes, which could look at one steadily and sweetly, were" 
 generally restless, and the mellowness of his voice some- 
 times showed its want of perfect training by slipping into 
 a harsher natural tone. Besides, he was a little too demon- 
 strative. His habit of putting his hand on my shoulder 
 and commencing a remark with (emphasizing every word) 
 "Mr DEAR FRIEND," made me feel uncomfortable. 
 Nevertheless, his presence in Reading was a satisfaction to 
 me, and I bestowed a great deal of friendly affection upon 
 him for the reason that there was no one else to whom I 
 could give it. 
 
 To him, then, I related all that had happened. The 
 habit of the future lawyer seemed to be already creeping 
 over him. He interrupted my narrative with an occasional 
 question, in order to make certain points clearer, and, when 
 I had finished, meditated a while in silence. " It 's a pity," 
 he said at last, " that I 'm not already admitted to practice, 
 and sporting my own shingle. I should like to know your 
 uncle, anyhow : can't you introduce me ? " 
 
 I felt a great repugnance to this proposal, and urged 
 Rand not to insist upon it 
 
 " Oh, well," said he, carelessly, " it 's of no consequence,
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 127 
 
 except on your account. I 'm sure I have no inclination to 
 meet the old porpoise. But I 'd advise you to work along, 
 the best way you can, until you can get a better hook on 
 him than you have now." 
 
 " No, Rand ! " I interrupted, " my mind is made up. i 
 shall leave his house." 
 
 In the course of the conversation Rand had managed to 
 extract from me the amount of my own little property, and 
 the disposition of the interest due the previous spring, 
 the greater part of which I had allowed my uncle to rein- 
 vest He also questioned me concerning the latter's for- 
 tune, and seemed desirous to know a great many partic- 
 ulars which had no apparent bearing on the present crisis 
 in my fortunes. Our talk ended, however, in my repeat- 
 ing my determination to leave. 
 
 " I hoped. Rand," I added, " that you could advise me 
 what to do. I can only think of two things, teaching a 
 country school, or getting a situation in another store. Of 
 course, I should rather teach." 
 
 "Then, if you are bent upon it, Godfrey, I think I can 
 help you. One of Mulford's clients, from Upper Samaria 
 township, not far from Cardiff, you know, was talking 
 about a teacher for their school, three or four days ago. 
 He 's a director, and has the most say, a? he 's a rich old 
 fellow. I '11 tell Mulford to recommend you, if you 've a 
 mind to try it, and meanwhile you can write to Dr. Dymond 
 for a certificate of your fitness. If the plan succeeds 
 and I don't see why it should n't you may say good-bye 
 to the old porpoise in less than ten days." 
 
 I. seized Hand's hand and poured out my gratitude ; here 
 was a way opened at once ! I should have pleasant em- 
 ployment for the winter, at least, and a little capital in the 
 spring to pursue my fortune further. The same evening I 
 wrote to Dr. Drmond, and in four days received a stiffly- 
 worded but very flattering testimony of my capacities. Ir 
 the beginning of the next week, -Mulford's client, a Mr
 
 128 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 Bratton, came again to Reading, and Rand was as good as 
 his word. He recommended me so strongly that Mr. B. 
 requested an interview, which was at once arranged. Rand 
 came for me, and we met in Mulford's back-office. 
 
 The director, upon whom my success mainly depended, 
 was a bluff, hearty man, with a pompous and patronizing 
 manner. " Ah, you are the young man," he said, stretch- 
 ing out his hand, and surveying me the while from head to 
 foot, " should have liked a little more signs of authority, 
 very necessary where there are big boys in the school. 
 However. Mine is not a rough neighborhood, very much 
 in advance of Lower Samaria." 
 
 I handed him Dr. Dymond's letter, which he ran through 
 with audible comments ; " ' promising scholar ' good, 
 but hardly enough for Me ; ' thorough acquaintance with 
 grammar ' ah, very good My own idee ; ' talent for 
 composition,' ' Latin,' rather ornamental, ra-a-ther ; 
 hem, ' all branches of arithmetic ' that 's more like busi- 
 ness. A very good recommendation, upon the whole. How 
 much do you expect to be paid ? " 
 
 I replied that I wanted no more than the usual remuner- 
 ation, admitting that I had never yet taught school, but 
 that I should make every effort to give satisfaction. 
 
 " We pay from twenty to twenty-five dollars a month," 
 said he ; " but you could n't expect more than twenty at the 
 start. You 're a pig in a poke, you know." 
 
 This was not very flattering ; but as I saw that no offence 
 was intended, I took none. Nay, I even smiled good- 
 oumoredly at Mr. Bratton's remark, and thereby won his 
 good-will. When we parted, the engagement was almost 
 made. 
 
 " For form's sake," said he, " I must consult the othei 
 directors ; but I venture to say that My recommendation 
 will be sufficient. If you come, I .shall depend upon you 
 to justify My selection." 
 
 I now judged it necessary to inform my uncle of the COD
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 129 
 
 teniplati-d step. I presume the idea of it had never en- 
 tered his head ; his surprise was so great that he seemed 
 at a loss what course to take. When he found that both 
 opposition and ridicule were of no avail, he tried persua- 
 sion, and even went so far as to promise me immunity from 
 persecution in religious matters. 
 
 " We will let that rest for the present," said he. " My 
 ways a'n't your'n, though I 've tried to bring you to a proper 
 knowledge of your soul, for your own good. I promised 
 your mother I 'd do my dooty by you. but you don't seem 
 to take it in a numble spirit. But now you 're acquainted 
 with business, in a measure, and likely to turn out well if 
 you stick to it. I 'd always reckoned on paying you a sel- 
 ery after you come of age ; it 's a sort of apprenticeship 
 till then. And you 've a little capital, and can make it 
 more. I don't say but what I could n't take you, in the 
 course of time, as a pardner in the concern." 
 
 I tried to explain that my taste and ambition lay in a 
 totally opposite direction. that T neither could nor would 
 devote my life to the mysteries of the grocery business. It 
 required some time to make my uncle comprehend my sin- 
 cerity. He looked upon the matter as the temporary whim 
 of a boy. When, at last, he saw that my determination 
 was inflexible, his anger returned, more violently than at 
 first. 
 
 " Go, then ! " he cried ; " I wash my hands of you ! But 
 this let me tell you look out for yourself till you 're 
 twenty-one ! Not a penny of your money will I advance 
 till the law tells me, and more, not a penny of mine will 
 you get when I die ! " 
 
 These words roused an equal anger in my heart. I felt 
 myself turning white, and ni) voice trembled in spite of 
 myself as I exclaimed, " Keep your accursed money ! Do 
 yon think I would soil my fingers with it ? Holy as you 
 are. and sinful as I am, I look down upon you and thank 
 no mean thoughts ever entered my heart!"
 
 ISO JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 The breach was now impassable. I had cut off the la-rf 
 bridge to reconciliation. Nothing more was said, and J 
 quietly and speedily made my preparations for leaving the 
 house. Bolty, whose manner had become exceedingly 
 mild and subdued since his conversion, did not seem much 
 surprised by the catastrophe. Perhaps he regretted the 
 loss of a companion, but his personal emotions were too 
 shallow to give him much uneasiness. I watched, with 
 some curiosity, to see whether he would still recommend 
 his patent-medicines in the accustomed style ; but even 
 here he was changed. With an air of quiet gravity, he 
 affirmed, " The pills is reckoned to be very good ; we sel) 
 a great many, ma'am. Them that cares for their perishin' 
 bodies is relieved by 'em." 
 
 This mode of recommendation seemed to be just as ef- 
 fectual as the former. 
 
 Two days afterwards a note arrived from Mr. Bratton 
 and I left my uncle's house. There were no touching fare- 
 wells, and no tears shed except Aunt Peggy's, as she ex- 
 claimed, " I would n't have believed it of you ; but you ".! 
 rue it ! ts, ts, fs. fs, you '11 rue it, too late ! " In spite 
 of this evil prediction, I think she must have felt a little 
 shame at seeing her sister's child leave her doors in the 
 way I did. 
 
 A rude mail-coach took me as far as Cardiff, where I 
 left my trunk at the tavern, and set out on foot for the res- 
 idence of Mr. Bratton. It was Friday ; I was to be pre- 
 sented to the directors on Saturday, and to open school on 
 Monday. Upper .Samaria was only three miles from Car- 
 diff, the latter place, a village of some four hundred in- 
 habitants, being the post-office for the region round about 
 
 It was a bright, cheery day. A bracing wind blew from 
 the northwest, slinking the chestnuts from their burrs and 
 the shell-barks from their split hulls. The farmers and 
 their men sat in the fields, each before his overturned 
 shock, and husked the long, yellow ears of corn. I passed
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 131 
 
 a load of apples on their way to the cider-press, and tl it- 
 sunburnt driver grinned with simple good-will as he tossed 
 me a ruddy " wine-sap." Never before had I breathed so 
 exquisite an atmosphere of freedom. I stood at last on my 
 own independent feet, in the midst of the bright autumnal 
 world. Wind and sun, the rustling trees and the hasten- 
 ing waters, the laborers looking up as 1 passed, and some- 
 where, deep in the blue overhead, the Spirit that orders 
 and upholds every form of life, seemed to recognize me as 
 a creature competent to take charge of his own destiny- 
 On the hilltops I paused and stretched forth my arms like 
 a discoverer taking possession of new lands. The old con- 
 tinent of dependence and subjection lay behind me, and I 
 saw the green shores of the free, virgin world. 
 
 Happy ignorance of youth that grasps life as a golden 
 bounty, not as a charge to be guarded with sleepless eyes 
 and weary heart! Surely some movement of Divine Pity 
 granted us that blindness of vision in which we only se<. 
 the bloom of blood on cheek and lip, not the dark roots 
 that branch below the garlanded mask of joy hiding the 
 tragic mystery ! 
 
 After a while the rolling upland over which I had been 
 wandering, sank gently towards the southeast into a broad. 
 softly outlined valley, watered by a considerable stream. 
 The landlord at Cardiff had given me minute directions, 
 so that when I saw a large mill-pond before me, with a race 
 leading to an old stone-mill, a white house behind two im- 
 mense weeping-willows on the left, and a massive brick 
 house on the right, across the stream, I knew that the lat- 
 ter edifice must be the residence of Mr. (or "Squire") 
 Septimus Bratton. The main highway followed the base 
 of some low, gradual hills on the left bank, and a furlong 
 beyond " Yule's Mill," as the place was called, I noticed a 
 square, one-story hut, with pyramidal roof, which I was 
 sure must be the school-house. A little further, another 
 road came across the hills from the eastward, and at the
 
 132 JOHN GODFREY S FORTUNES. 
 
 junction there were a dozen buildings, comprising, as 1 
 afterwards discovered, the store, blacksmith's and shoe- 
 maker's shops, and the " Buck " Tavern, where, on election- 
 days, the polls for Upper Samaria were held. Down the 
 stream, the view extended for two or three miles over rich 
 and admirably cultivated farm-land, interspersed with noble 
 tracts of wood, and with clumps of buttonwood- and ash- 
 trees along the course of the stream. 
 
 Mr. B ration's house stood upon a knoll, commanding a 
 very agreeable view of the valley. It was a large cube of 
 red brick, with high double chimneys at each end, and a 
 veranda in front supported by white Ionic columns of 
 wood. A dense environment of Athenian poplars and sil- 
 ver-maples buried the place in shade, while the enclosure 
 sloping down to the road was dotted with balsam-fir and 
 arbor-vitae. The fact that this lawn if it could be so 
 called covered an acre of ground, and was grown with 
 irregular tufts of natural grass, instead of being devoted 
 to potatoes, indicated wealth. In the rear rose a huge 
 barn, with a stable-yard large enough to hold a hundred 
 cattle. 
 
 I walked up a straight central path, trodden in the grass, 
 and ungravelled, to the front-door, and knocked. Foot- 
 steps sounded somewhere within and then died away again. 
 After waiting ten minutes, I repeated the knocking, and 
 presently the door was opened. I beheld a lovely girl of 
 seventeen, in a pale green dress, which brought a faint rose- 
 tint to a face naturally colorless. Her light gray eyes rested 
 gently on mine, and I know that I blushed with surprise 
 and confusion. She did not seem to be in the least embar- 
 rassed, but stood silently waiting for me to speak. 
 
 " Is Mr. Bratton at home ? " I finally stammered. 
 
 " Pa and Ma have gone to Carte rstown this afternoon,"* 
 said she, in the smoothest, evenest, most delicious voice I 
 had ever heard " They will be back soon ; will you walk 
 in and wait ? "
 
 JOHN GO. FRET'S FORTUNES. 133 
 
 " Yes, if you please," T answered. " I think Mr. Bra*! 
 ton expects me ; my name is Godfrey." 
 
 1 am sure she had already guessed who I was. She be- 
 trayed no sign of the fact, however, but demurely led the 
 vay to a comfortable sitting-room, asked me to take a seat, 
 and retired, leaving me alone. I stole across the carpet to 
 a small mirror between the windows, straitened the bow of 
 my cravat, ran my fingers through my hair to give it a 
 graceful disposition, and examined my features one by one, 
 imagining how they would appear to a stranger's eye. 
 
 I had scarcely resumed my seat before Miss Bratton re- 
 turned, with a blue pitcher in one hand and a tumbler in 
 the other. 
 
 Will you have a glass of new cider, Mr. Godfrey ? " 
 she asked, dropping her eyes an instant. " It 's sweet," 
 she added ; ' you can take it without breaking the pledge." 
 
 " Oh, of course," I answered ; for, although I was not a 
 member of a Temperance Society, I thought she might be. 
 She stood near me, holding the pitcher while I drank, and 
 it seemed to me that there was a noise of deglutition in my 
 throat which might be heard all over the house. 
 
 She took a seat near the opposite window, with some sort 
 of net-work in her hand. I felt that it was incumbent on 
 me to commence the conversation, which I did awkwardly 
 enough, I suppose, her slow, even, liquid words forming a 
 remarkable contrast to my rapid and random utterances. 
 At length, however, I got so far as to inform her that I 
 hoped to teach in the neighboring school-house during the 
 coming winter. 
 
 Ind-e-e-ed ! " she exclaimed, in an accent of polite, 
 subdued interest " Then we shall be neighbors ; for I 
 suppose you will board at Yule's. All the schoolmasters 
 do." 
 
 " The white house with the willows : " 
 
 "Yes. Mr.. Yule is Pa's miller. He has been there 
 twenty years, I think Pa said. I 'm sure it was long before
 
 134 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 I was born. They are very respectable people, and it 'i 
 nicer there than to board at ' The Buck.' " 
 
 I was about to reply that the choice of the directors 
 must be made before I could engage board anywhere, when 
 she interrupted me with, " Oh, there 's Pa's carriage just 
 turning the corner. Excuse me ! " and walked from the 
 room with a swift, graceful step. 
 
 In a few minutes I heard a heavy foot, followed by a 
 rustling, along the veranda, and Mr. and Mrs. Septimus 
 Bratton entered the room. The former greeted me with 
 stately cordiality. " I see," said he, " that you have already 
 made my daughter's acquaintance. My dear, this is Mr. 
 Godfrey, whom / have recommended as our teacher this 
 winter." 
 
 Mrs. Bratton, a sharp-featured little woman, swathed in 
 an immense white crape shawl, advanced and gave me her 
 hand. " How d' ye do, sir?" she piped, in a shrill voice; 
 " hope you 've not been kept long a-waiting ? " 
 
 Then she and the daughter retired, and Mr. Bratton 
 flung his hat upon the table and sat down. "I guess 
 there '11 be no difficulty to-morrow," he remarked ; " I 've 
 seen Bailey, one of the directors, and he 's willing to abide 
 by Me. As for Carter, he thinks something of his learn- 
 ing, and always has a few questions to ask ; but we had a 
 poor shoat last winter, of his choosing, and so you '11 have 
 the better chance. You '11 board at Yule's, but you may as 
 well stay here till to-morrow, after we meet. 'T is n't good 
 luck to give a baby its name before it 's christened. You 
 can send up to Cardiff for your things when the matter is 
 settled." 
 
 We were presently summoned to the early tea-table of 
 the country. When Mrs. Bratton was about to take hei 
 seat, her daughter murmured oh, so musically ! " Let 
 me pour out, Ma you must be tired." 
 
 " Well, have your own way, 'Manda," said the mother 
 " you '11 be getting your hand in, betimes."
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 18i 
 
 I w&s first served, the lovely Amanda kindly asking me 
 u Shall I season your tea for you, Mr. Godfrey ? " 
 
 It was the sweetest cup I had ever tasted. 
 
 " Where 's Sep ? " suddenly asked Mr. Bratton. 
 
 " I 've sent out to the barn and down to the mill, but 
 they don't seem to find him," his wife remarked. 
 
 " I '11 go to 4 The Buck,' then ; but I won't go much 
 oftener." 
 
 I saw wife and daughter suddenly glance at him, and he 
 said no more. But he was hi a visible ill-humor. There 
 was a lack of lively conversation during the evening, yet to 
 jie the time passed delightfully. Miss Bratton, I discov- 
 ered, had just returned from the celebrated School for 
 Young Ladies at Bethlehem, and was considered, in Upper 
 Samaria, as a model of female accomplishment. She had 
 learned to write Italian hand, to paint tulips and roses on 
 white velvet, to make wax-flowers, and even to play the 
 piano ; and an instrument ordered by her father, at the im- 
 mense price of two hundred dollars, was then on its way 
 from Philadelphia. These particulars I learned afterwards 
 from Mrs. Yule. During that evening, however, I saw and 
 admired the brilliant bouquets in mahogany frames which 
 adorned the parlor-walls. 
 
 At nine o'clock, Mr. Bratton, who had already several 
 times yawned with a loud, bellowing noise, rose, took a candle, 
 and showed me to a large and very gorgeous chamber. The 
 bedstead had pillars of carved mahogany, supporting a can- 
 opy with curtains, and I sank into the huge mass of feath- 
 ers as into a sun-warmed cloud. I stretched myself out in 
 all directions, with the luxurious certainty of not encounter- 
 jig Bolty Himpel's legs, composed my mind to an unspoken 
 prayer, and floated into dreams where Aunt Peggy and 
 Miss Amanda Bratton had provokingly changed voices. 
 
 The next morning, at ten o'clock, the directors met at 
 the school-house. Mr. Bratton, who had charge of the key. 
 opened the shutters and let out the peculiar musty smell
 
 136 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 suggestive of mould, bread and butter, and greasy spelling' 
 books, which had accumulated. He then took his seat at 
 the master's desk, and laid the proposal before Messrs. 
 Bailey and Carter. He read Dr. Dymond's letter of rec- 
 ommendation, and finished by saying, " Mr. Godfrey, I be- 
 lieve, is ready for any examination you may wish to make.' : 
 
 Mr. Bailey remarked, in a sleepy voice, " I guess that '11 
 do ; " but Mr. Carter, a wiry, nervous little man, pricked 
 up his ears, stroked his chin, and said, " I 've got a few 
 questions to put. Spell ' inooendo.' " 
 
 I spelled in succession the words " innuendo," " exhila- 
 rate," " peddler," and " pony," to the gentleman's satisfac- 
 tion, and gave, moreover, the case of the noun ' ; disobe- 
 dience," in the first line of " Paradise Lost," and the verb 
 which governed it. Then I calculated the number of 
 boards ten feet long, thirteen inches wide, and one inch 
 thick, which could be sawed out of a pine log three feet in 
 diameter and seventy feet long ; then the value of a hun- 
 dred dollars, at compound interest, six per cent, for twenty 
 years ; and, finally, the length of time it would take a man 
 to walk a mile, supposing he made ten steps, two feet long, 
 in a minute, and for every two steps forward took one step, 
 one foot long, backwards. I think Mr. Carter would have 
 been vexed if I had not made a mistake of three cents on 
 the compound interest question. Furthermore, I wrote on 
 a sheet of paper, " Avoid haughtiness of behavior and affec- 
 tation of manners" as a specimen of my penmanship, and 
 read aloud parts of a speech of Patrick Henry, from the 
 " Columbian Orator." Geography and the various branches 
 of natural philosophy were passed over in silence, and I 
 was a little surprised that the fact of my never having 
 {aught school before was not brought forward in objection. 
 After Mr. Carter had exhausted his budget of questions, I 
 was requested to step outside for a few minutes while th 
 directors consulted. 
 
 When Mr. Bratton called me, I saw by his slightly in-
 
 .OHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 13< 
 
 creased pomposity that I was accepted. His choice waa 
 confirmed ; and as the " poor shoat" of the previous win 
 ter had been taken on Carter's recommendation, it was 
 now my patron's turn to triumph. My salary was fixed 
 at twenty-five dollars a month, and I was gratified to find 
 that my board and washing at Yule's would cost me but a 
 dollar and a half per week. This secured me the prospect 
 of a capital of some fifty or sixty dollars in the spring. 
 
 Mr. Bratton completed his patronage by presenting me 
 to the Yule family. The plain, honest face of the old miller 
 made a fatherly impression upon me, and Mrs. Yule, a 
 bustling, talkative woman, a chronicle of all the past and 
 present gossip of the neighborhood. accepted me as a 
 predestined member of the family. She had already put 
 " the master's room " in order, she said ; it never went by 
 any other name in the house, and she allowed a fire in cold 
 weather, only the master " always carried up his own 
 wood, and kindled it. and raked the ashes carefully before 
 going to bed : and Daniel was going to Cardiff that very 
 night for the paper, and he should take the light cart and 
 bring my trunk, so I could stop then and there, while I 
 was about it Which I did. 
 
 " Daniel " was the older son, a tall, lusty fellow of 
 twenty-four. There was a younger, Isaac, about my own 
 age, and a daughter, Susan, between the two. I met the 
 whole family at dinner, and, before the meal was over, fell 
 that I was fast becoming an Upper Samaritan.
 
 138 JOHN GODFREYS FORTUNES. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 CONTAINING BRATTON'S PARTY AND THE EPISODE 01 
 THE LIME-KILN. 
 
 WHEN I opened school on Monday morning, I had some 
 twenty pupils, mostly the younger children of the neighbor- 
 ing farmers. The late autumn was unusually clear and 
 mild, and the larger boys were still needed in the fields. I 
 was glad of this chance, as it enabled me the more easily to 
 get the machinery of the school in motion and familiarize 
 myself with my duties. I recollected enough of GUI com- 
 mencement-days at the Cross- Keys to form my pupils into 
 classes and arrange the order of exercises. So far as the 
 giving of instruction was concerned, I had no misgivings, 
 but I feared the natural and universal rebellion of children 
 against rules which impose quiet and application of mind. 
 Accordingly, I took the master's seat at my desk on a small 
 raised platform, with stern gravity of countenance, and in- 
 stantly checked the least tendency to whisper or giggle 
 among my subjects. The process was exhausting, and I 
 should like to know which side felt the greatest relief when 
 the first day came to an end. 
 
 In a short time, however, as I came to know the faces 
 and dispositions of the children, I found it necessary to re 
 lax something of this assumed strictness. Dr. Dymond's 
 method, which I had found so pleasant, seemed to me bet- 
 ter adapted to their needs, also, and I frequently interrupted 
 the regular sequence of the lessons in order to communicate 
 general intelligence, especially of a geographical or histor- 
 ical character, wherein they were all lamentably deficient
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 13( 
 
 f had a great liking for oral narrative, and perhaps some 
 talent in constructing it, for I always found these breaks 
 more efficient to preserve order than my sternest scolding. 
 
 I soon saw that the children enjoyed my method ol in- 
 struction. Many a bell-flower and fall pippin was laid upon 
 my desk in the morning, and some of the girls, noticing 
 that I gathered gentians and late asters in the meadow.' 
 during their nooning, brought me bunches of chrysanthe- 
 mums from their mothers' flower-beds. I should have soon 
 found my place insupportable, had I been surrounded by 
 hostile hearts, children's though they were, and was there- 
 fore made happy by seeing that my secret favorites returned 
 my affection in their own shy way. Mrs. Yule, who had a 
 magnetic ear for hearing everything that was said within a 
 radius of two miles, informed me that I was much better 
 liked by the pupils than last winter's master, though some 
 of the parents thought that I told them too many " fancy 
 things." 
 
 This was the sunny side of the business, so far as it had 
 one. On the other hand I grew weary to death of enlight- 
 ening the stupidity of some of the boys, and disgusted with 
 their primitive habits. I shuddered when I was obliged to 
 touch their dirty, sprawling, warty hands, or when my eyes 
 fell upon the glazed streaks on their sleeves. They sur- 
 rounded me with unwashed smells, and scratched their 
 heads more than was pleasant to behold. Physical beauty 
 was scarce imong them, and natural refinement, in any sen- 
 sible degree, entirely absent. A few had frank, warm 
 hearts, and hints of undeveloped nobility in their natures, 
 but coarseness and selfishness were predominant. My ex- 
 perience convinced me that I should never become a bene- 
 factor of the human race. It was not the moral sentiment 
 in the abstract, but that of certain individuals, which in 
 spired me with interest. 
 
 My home at the white house behind the willows was a 
 very agreeable one. There was a grand old kitchen, paved
 
 140 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 with flag-stones, and with a chimney large enough to 2011 
 tain a high-backed wooden settle, on either side of the fire. 
 Here the old miller and Dan smoked their pipes after sup- 
 per, while Mrs. Yule and Susan pared apples, or set tl, 
 bread to rise, or mixed buckwheat-batter for next uiori 
 ing's cakes. I could place my tallow-candle in a little niche, 
 or pocket, of the jamb, and read undisturbed, until SOUK 
 quaint lore of the neighborhood drew me from the book 
 The windows of my room in the southeastern corner of the 
 house were wrapped about with the trailing willow-boughs , 
 but, as their leaves began to fall, I discovered that I should 
 have a fine winter view down the valley. 
 
 The miller was one of those quiet, unmarked natures. 
 which, like certain grays in painting, are agreeable through 
 their very lack of positive character. He suggested health 
 nothing else ; and his son Dan was made in his likem >>. 
 I did not know, then, why I liked Dan, but I suspect now 
 it must have been because he had not an over-sensitive 
 nerve in his body. His satisfied repose was the farthest 
 vibration from my restless, excitable temperament Susan 
 was a bright, cheerful, self-possessed girl, in whose presence 
 the shyest youth would have felt at ease. She was not cul- 
 tivated, but neither was she ashamed of her ignorance. 
 Her only aesthetic taste was for flowers ; there were no such 
 pot gillyflowers and geraniums as hers in all Upper Sama- 
 ria. She sewed buttons on my shirts and darned the heels 
 of my stockings before my very eyes. It was rumored that 
 she was engaged to Ben Hannaford, a young farmer over 
 the hill to the north ; but she spoke of him in so straight- 
 forward and unembarrassed a way that I judged it could 
 not be possible. Still, it was a fact that a fire was made in 
 the best sitting-room every Sunday night, and that both 
 Ben and Susan somehow disappeared from the kitchen. 
 
 The ways of the neighborhood were exceedingly social. 
 There were frequent "gatherings" ("getherin's " was the 
 popular term) of the younger people, generally on Saturday
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 141 
 
 evenings. The first which I attended was given by Miss 
 Amanda Bratton, about three weeks after my arrival. The 
 impulse thereto was furnished, I imagine, by the arrival of 
 the new piano from Philadelphia. Everybody on the main 
 road, from Carterstown up to the Buck Tavern, had seen 
 the wagon with the great box lying on trusses of straw, as 
 it passed along, and the news had gone far to right and left 
 before it was announced that " Squire Bratton's " house 
 would be open. Pianos were not common in Upper Sa- 
 maria ; indeed there were none nearer than Carterstown, 
 and the young men and women were unaccustomed to 
 other music than the flute and violin. Miss Amanda, on 
 her father's hint, was profuse in her invitations ; he knew 
 that the party would be much talked about, both before 
 and after its occurrence. 
 
 I walked over with Dan and Susan Yule, at dusk, and 
 found the company already arriving. The hall-door was 
 open, and we were received at the entrance to the parlor by 
 Miss Amanda, who looked lovely in a pale-violet silk. She 
 gave me her hand with the composure of an old acquaint- 
 ance, and I took it with a thrill of foolish happiness. 
 
 " He 's not come yet, Sue," said she. " Mr. Godfrey, let 
 me introduce you to the gentlemen." 
 
 I was presented to five or six sturdy fellows, each of 
 whom gave me a tremendous grip of a large, hard hand, and 
 then sat down in silence. They were ranged along one side 
 of the parlor-wall, while the ladies formed a row on the op- 
 posite side, occasionally whispering to each other below 
 their breath. I took my seat at one end of the male col- 
 umn, and entered into conversation with my neighbor, which 
 he accepted in a friendly and subdued manner. No one, I 
 think, quite ventured to use his natural volume of voice ex- 
 cept young Septimus, or Sep Bratton. who (lodged back 
 and forth with loud explosions of shallow wit and unjustifi- 
 able laughter. Many eyes were directed to the piano, which 
 stood open at the end of the room, and it was evident tha'
 
 142 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 the tone of the company would be solemn expectation until 
 the instrument had been heard. 
 
 Squire Bratton, in a high stock and sharp, standing col- 
 lar, moved majestically about, greeting each fresh arrival 
 with a mixture of urbanity and condescension. When all 
 the chairs which could be comfortably placed were filled 
 and the gentlemen were obliged to stand, the company 
 began to break into groups and grow more animated. 
 Then Miss Amanda was importuned to play. 
 
 " Oh, I 'm really afraid, before so many ! " she exclaimed, 
 with a modesty which charmed me ; " besides, the piano is 
 hardly fit to be played on, is it, Pa ? " 
 
 " Hm well," said her father, " I believe it is a little 
 out of chime, from being jolted on the road, but I guess our 
 friends would make allowance for that" 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " " We sha'n't notice it ! " eagerly burst from 
 a dozen voices. 
 
 After some further solicitation, Miss Amanda took her 
 seat, and a breathless silence filled the room. She struck 
 two or three chords, then suddenly ceased, saying, " Oh, I 
 can't ! I shall shock you ; the G is so flat ! " 
 
 " Go on ! " " It 's splendid ! " and various other encour- 
 aging cries ajrain arose. 
 
 I happened to be standing near the piano, and she 
 caught my eye, expressing its share of the general expect- 
 ancy. 
 
 " Must I, indeed, Mr. Godfrey ? " she asked, in a help- 
 less, appealing tone. " What shall it be ? " 
 
 " Tour favorite air, Miss Bratton," I answered. 
 
 She turned to the keys again, and, after a short prelude, 
 played the Druids' March from " Norma," boldly and with 
 a strongly accented rhythm. I was astonished at the deli- 
 cacy of her ear, for I should not have known but that the 
 instrument was in very good tune. 
 
 When she had finished, the expressions of delight were 
 loud and long, and " more " was imperiously demanded 
 coupled with a request for a song.
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 14? 
 
 This time she gave us " Oh, come o'er the Moonlit 
 Sea, Love," and " The Dream is Past " ; and I knew not 
 which most to admire, the airy, dancing, tinkling brill- 
 iancy of the first, or the passion and sorrow of the second. 
 No one, I thought, could sing that song without feeling the 
 words in their tragic intensity : Miss Bratton must have a 
 heart like Zuleika or Gulnare. 
 
 I believe I made a good appearance, as contrasted with 
 the other young men present. I had fastened my cravat 
 with a small coral pin which had belonged to my mother, 
 and this constituted a distinguishing mark which drew 
 
 o o 
 
 many eyes upon me. Little by little, I was introduced to 
 all the company, and was drawn into the lively chatter 
 which, in such communities, takes the place of wit and 
 sentiment. Among others, Susan Yule presented me to 
 Miss Verbena Cuff, a plump, rattling girl, who was not 
 afraid to poke a fellow in the ribs with her forefinger, and 
 say. " Oh, go 'long, now ! " when anything funny was said. 
 She had the fullest, ripest lips, the largest and whitest 
 teeth, and the roundest chin, of any girl there. 
 
 After the refreshments consisting of lemonade, new 
 cider, and four kinds of cakes were handed around, we 
 all became entirely merry and unconstrained. I had never 
 before " assisted " at a party of the kind, except as a juve- 
 nile spectator, and my enjoyment was therefore immense. 
 Nothing more was needed to convince me that I was a full- 
 grown man. Whenever I put my hand to my chin I was 
 conscious of a delightful, sand-papery feeling, which showed 
 that the down I so carefully scraped off was beginning to 
 icquire strength, and would soon display masculine sub- 
 stance and color. My freckles were all gone, and, as 
 Neighbor Niles had always prophesied, left a smooth, fair 
 skin behind them. I was greatly delighted on hearing one 
 of the girls whisper, " He 's quite good-looking." Of course 
 she referred to me. 
 
 Miss Amanda's album, gilt-edged and gorgeously bound
 
 144 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 in red morocco, lay upon a side-table under the mirror. 1 
 picked it up and looked over its contents, in company 
 with Miss Verbena Cuff. The leaves were softly tinted 
 with pink, green, buff, and blue, and there were both steel 
 engravings and bunches of flowers lithographed in colors. 
 Miss Verbena stayed my hand at one of the pictures, rep- 
 resenting a youth in Glengarry bonnet and knee-breeches, 
 with one arm round a maiden, whose waist came just un- 
 der her shoulders, while he waved the other arm over a 
 wheat-field. In the air above them two large birds were 
 flying. 
 
 The title of the picture was, -Now Westlin' Win's." 
 
 Mr. Godfrey," said Miss Verbena, " I want you to tell 
 me what this picture means ; she won't. / say Westlin' ' 
 is the name of one o' the birds ; they 're flyin' a race, and 
 he thinks ' Westlin' ' will win it What do you say ? " 
 
 I looked up, and saw that " she " was standing near us, 
 listening. I smiled significantly, with a side-glance at Miss 
 Verbena. My smile was returned, yet with an expression 
 of tender deprecation, which I interpreted as saying. 
 " Don't expose her ignorance." I accordingly answered, 
 with horrid hypocrisy, 
 
 " You may be right, Miss Cuff. I never saw the picture 
 before." Again we exchanged delicious glances. 
 
 I turned over the leaves, and presently stumbled on the 
 name of " Susan Yule." She had written 
 
 " Oh, Amanda, when I in tar awav, 
 
 To taste the scenes of other climes, 
 And when fond Memory claims its swaj, 
 
 Ami tells thee then of happier times, 
 Oh, let a Tear of Sorrow blend 
 With memory of thy absent Friend." 
 
 I was greatly diverted with the idea of good, plain, 
 simple-hearted Susan Yule, whose thoughts never crossed 
 the township-line of Upper Samaria, going away to taste 
 the scenes of other climes, but I did my best, for her sake
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTCNES. 145 
 
 to preserve a serious countenance. I was rather surprised 
 to find, on looking further, that both Mattie McElroy and 
 Jemima Ann Hutchins had written precisely the same 
 lines. 
 
 Why," I exclaimed, ' here it is again ! I thought tin 
 verse was original, There must he a great scarcity ol' 
 album poetry, Miss Hratton." 
 
 " Ye-e-es," she answered, in a gentle drawl. " We ;i i ! 
 found it so at school. I 'm sure I went over the ' Elegant 
 Extracts ' ever so many times, but there was so little that 
 would suit. I think it 's so much nicer to have original 
 poetry ! don't you ? " 
 
 I assented most enthusiastically. 
 
 " Perhaps you write poetry, Mr. Godfrey ? " she con- 
 tinued. 
 
 I blushed and stammered, longing, yet shy to confess 
 the blissful truth. 
 
 " He, he ! " giggled Miss Verbena Cuff, giving me a 
 poke with her forefinger ; " he does ! he does ! I '11 bet 
 anything on it. Make him write something in your book. 
 'Manda ! " 
 
 " Won't you ? " murmured Miss Amanda, fixing her soft, 
 pale eyes full upon mine. 
 
 I blushed all over, this time. The red flushed my skin 
 down to my very toes. My eyelids fell before the angelic 
 gaze, and I muttered something about being very happy, 
 and I would try, but I was afraid she would n't be satisfied 
 with it afterwards. 
 
 " But it must be right out of your own head, mind.' 
 Miss Cuff insisted. 
 
 " Of course," said Miss Bratton, with slight but very be- 
 coming hauteur. 
 
 " And then ynu must write something for me. We won' 
 say anything about it to the other girls, 'Manda, till they 're 
 finished." 
 
 I was n't very well pleased with this proposition, and it 
 10
 
 146 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 seemed to me, also, that the merest gossamer of a shade 
 flitted across Miss Bratton's smooth brow. Still, it was 
 impossible to refuse, and I endeavored to promise with a 
 good grace. 
 
 ' Mine has the language of flowers," said Verbena ; " I 'm 
 so sorry that the Rose is already writ I 'd have liked you 
 to take that. There 's Pink and Honeysuckle left, and 
 something else that I disremember. I '11 show you the 
 book first" 
 
 Later in the evening it happened that Miss Bratton and 
 I came together again, with nobody very near us. I made 
 instant use of the opportunity, to confirm the confidential 
 relation which I imagined was already established between 
 is. " I understood you," I said ; " did you ever hear such 
 an absurd idea as she had ? " 
 
 She was evidently puzzled, but not startled. Nothing, 
 in fact, seemed to agitate her serene, self-poised, maidenly 
 nature. " Oh, the picture ? " she said, at last ; " very ab- 
 surd, indeed." 
 
 " You know the poem, of course ? " I continued. 
 
 " Yes," (slightly smiling,) ' I read it, long ago, but I 've 
 forgotten how it goes. Won't you write it down for me ? " 
 
 I assented at once, though to do so implied the purchase 
 of a copy of Burns, which I did not possess. How grate- 
 ful it was to find one in that material crowd who knew and 
 reverenced the immortal bards among whom I hoped to 
 inscribe my name ! 
 
 " I '11 bring it over to you, some evening ! " I exclaimed. 
 
 She smiled sweetly, but said nothing. 
 
 ' I am so glad you are fond of poetry ! Do you ever see 
 the Saturday Evening Post f " 
 
 " Yes ; Pa takes it for me. There are such sweet poems 
 in it, and the tales, too ! " 
 
 Here we were interrupted, but I had heard enough to 
 turn my head. She had certainly read " The Unknown 
 Bard " and all the other productions of " Selim " ! Thej
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 147 
 
 were among the poems, and, of course, they too were 
 ' sweet" 
 
 The party broke up at midnight, and I had the pleasure 
 of escorting Miss Verbena Cuff across the stream to Yule's 
 Mill, where her brother Tom had left his horse and vehicle 
 We started with Dan and Susan Yule, but had scarcely 
 left Bratton's veranda, before Miss Verbena took my arm 
 and whispered, " Let 's hang back a little ; I want to tell 
 you something." 
 
 I hung back, as desired, and we were soon alone under 
 the dark, starry sky. I was wrapped in dreams of Miss 
 Amanda Bratton, the touch of whose slender fingers still 
 burned on my right palm. Hence I did not manifest the 
 curiosity which my companion no doubt awaited, for after 
 walking a few rods in silence, she said, giving me a jog 
 of her elbow, 
 
 " Well what do you think it is ? " 
 
 Thus admonished, I confessed my inability to guess. 
 
 " I '11 tell you, but don't you tell nobody. Tom 's going 
 to set the last kiln a-burning, Friday morning, and there T 
 be a bully blaze by Saturday night. You know our house, 
 don't you ? stands on the left, a mile and a half this side 
 of Carterstown, stone, with brick chimbleys, and the barn 
 t' other side of the road : you can't miss it. Now, I want 
 you to come, and we '11 have some fun. There won't be 
 many, and I don't want it to get out, I 'd rather it would 
 seem accidental like. We had a getherin' three weeks 
 ago, but, you kiow, when the kiln's afire, it seems to 'liven 
 people up. Some say, the more the merrier, but it a'n't 
 always so." 
 
 Here she gave my arm an interrogative clutch ; and I. 
 thinking of Milton's " fit audience, though few," answered, 
 u No, indeed. Miss Cuff; it 's also true that the fewer the 
 nearer in heart." 
 
 4 Then you '11 come ? You 11 be sure and keep youi 
 word ? "
 
 148 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 I had not yet given my word, but the prospect of a select 
 few assembled around the burning lime-kiln was weird, 
 poetic, and by no means unwelcome. Of course Amanda 
 Bratton would be one of the few, and I already speculated 
 how wonderfully her calm face would appear in the blue 
 gleam of the fire, against a background of night. I there- 
 fore exclaimed, 
 
 " Oh, I shall be delighted ! " 
 
 " And you won't say anything ? " 
 
 " Not a word ! " 
 
 " Don't even tell Yules. I like Susan very much, but 
 her fortune 's made, they say, and I only want them that 
 can take an interest in each other. You understand, don't 
 you ? " 
 
 Again I felt the powerful squeeze of her arm, and invol- 
 untarily returned it. She hung upon and leaned against 
 me quite alarmingly after that, but a few more steps 
 brought us around the mill to the hitching-post at Yule's 
 gate, where Tom Cuff, whip in hand, stood awaiting her. 
 
 " It 's late, Sis, and we must be off. Finish your spark- 
 in', quick," he growled, in a coarse voice. 
 
 He thereupon turned his back, and Miss Verbena, giving 
 me her hand, looked into my face in a momentary attitude 
 of expectation which I did not understand. She jerked 
 away her hand again rather hastily, whispered " Don'i 
 forget next Saturday night ! " and then added, aloud. 
 " Good night, Mr. Godfrey ! " 
 
 "Good night, Miss Cuff!" I replied, and they dro\<> 
 away as I was mounting the projecting steps in the stone 
 wall. 
 
 That week I made use of " the master's " privilege, and 
 beside a fire in my bedroom, devoted myself to the com 
 position of a poem for Miss Bratton's album. I wrote four, 
 and was then uncertain which to choose, or whether any 
 one of them was worthy of its destined place. I finally 
 fixed upon one entitled "A Parable," which represented
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 14S 
 
 A wandering bird of sweet song in a cold, dark forest where 
 
 o o 
 
 the trees paid no heed to his lays. But just as he was be- 
 coming silent forever, from despair of a listener, he saw a 
 lovely (lower lift up its head, open the lips of its blushing 
 petals, and ask him to sing ; so he built his nest at her feet, 
 and piped his sweetest song in the fragrance of her being. 
 SJte will understand it ! " I said to myself, in triumph 
 " and to the obscure, unpoetic minds around her it will 
 simply be a bit of fancy. What a godlike art is the Poet's ! " 
 Then I sang, to a tune of my own invention, 
 
 " Drink to her who long 
 
 Has waked the Poet's sigh, 
 The girl who gave to song 
 
 What Gold could never buy ! " 
 
 Meanwhile, the week drew to an end. and as Saturday 
 afternoon was always a holiday for the school, I had ample 
 time to prepare myself for the visit to Cuff's. Inasmuch 
 as the Yule family was ignorant of the proposed calcareous 
 party. I was a little puzzled how to get away without being 
 observed. Also, how to get into the house, if I should not 
 return before midnight. I made up my mind, at last, to 
 inform Dan. upon whose silence I knew I could rely. I 
 found him in the mill, white with the dust of floating meal, 
 and the hopper made such a clatter that I was forced to 
 put my mouth to his ear, and half scream the fact that 1 
 expected to be away from home in the evening. He nod- 
 ded and smiled, remarking the sheepish expression of my 
 face. and. coming close to me, said, " Shall I leave the 
 back-entry door open ? " 
 
 And don't say anything about it, please?" I added. 
 
 Hie simple grin was as good as anybody else's oath ; so, 
 completely assured, I made myself ready during the after- 
 noon, in every respect but the coat, which I whipped on 
 after supper. Stealing out by the back door, I jumped 
 over the garden-wall and took my way down the valley. 
 
 It was a sharp, frosty night in the beginning of Decem
 
 150 uOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 her, and I walked briskly forward, busy with imaginary 
 scenes and conversations, in which Amanda Bratton had 
 an important share. It was a habit of my mind and still 
 is to create all presumed situations in advance, and pre- 
 pare myself for the part I expected to play in them. 1 
 must frankly confess to the reader, however, that the inter- 
 ference of some avenging Nemesis always darkens this vol- 
 untary clairvoyance, and spoils my tags and cues. Hence 
 all my best remarks have never been uttered, my most 
 brilliant humor has rusted in its sheath, and with undoubted 
 capacity to sparkle in conversation (if the occasions would 
 only arise as I project them in advance), I have never 
 achieved more than an average reputation as a talker. 
 How my anticipations on this particular evening were ful- 
 filled, I shall now proceed to relate. 
 
 As the distance to Carte rstown was four miles. Cuff's 
 house and lime-kiln must therefore be two and a half miles 
 from Yule's Mill, a walk of three quarters of an hour. 1 
 had not been down the road before, but I supposed that 
 the burning kiln would be as a banner hung out, afar off, 
 to guide my steps. On I went, passing many houses on one 
 side of the road, with their barns on the other, but no blue 
 blaze showed itself, and I began to suspect that I was on 
 the wrong road. A wide stream, coming down through the 
 hills on the left, arrested my way, until I discovered a high 
 log and hand-rail on one side, and felt my way over in the 
 dark. Just beyond this stream stood another house on the 
 left, on a bold knoll, through which the road was cut The 
 shrubs in the front yard rustled darkly over the top of a 
 lofty stone Avail. 
 
 As I approached this point, a huge dog sprang down from 
 above and commenced barking furiously. Having no means 
 of defence, I stood still, and the animal planted himself in 
 the middle of the road as if determined to bar my advance 
 Presently I heard a whistle from the top of the wall, and a 
 stern female voice exclaimed. " He quiet, Roger!"
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 151 
 
 I started. It was surely the voice of Miss Verbena Cliff 
 The next moment she herself suddenly appeared in th 
 road at my side, and I heard a whisper, " Is it you ? " 
 
 " Yes," I said ; " do you live here ? I was afraid I should 
 not find the house." 
 
 Taking my hand, she led me to a break in the wall, up 
 which ran a steep flight of stone steps. When I had gained 
 the top, I found myself on the knoll in front of the house, 
 and saw a flickering cone of blue and scarlet fire at the 
 foot of the slope beyond. 
 
 "A'n't that a blaze ? " said Miss Verbena ; " I never get 
 tired a-looking at it It 's Tom's turn to tend the fire to- 
 night, so he won't be in the way. Tom 's rather rough, he 
 is." 
 
 " ' Men scarcely know how beautiful fire is,' " I said, 
 quoting Shelley. " It looks as if a little volcano had broken 
 up out of the earth. See, that 's the crater, at the top. 
 Are you not afraid of the lava bursting out ? " 
 
 " Go along, you ! " was her answer, as she gave me a poke 
 in the ribs. " Come in the side-door, into the setting-room. 
 I did n't make a fire in the parlor, because I was n't quite 
 sure you 'd come. But I '11 bring in some wood, right away, 
 and then run up-stairs and fix myself in no time." 
 
 She ushered me into the sitting-room, which was dimly 
 lighted by a single tallow-candle. An old woman, with a 
 curious cap and no upper teeth, sat in a high-backed rock- 
 ing-chair, knitting. She must have been very deaf, for 
 Miss Verbena stooped down and shouted in her ear, " Moth- 
 er, this is Mr. Godfrey, the schoolmaster at Yule's Mill ! " 
 
 The old woman looked at me with a silly smile, nodded, 
 and murmured to herself as she resumed her knitting, 
 u Yes, yes ; young people will be young people. I s'pose 
 1 'm in the way now." 
 
 In a few minutes she rose and retired to the kitchen, and 
 Miss Verbena, following her. soon reappeared with an arm- 
 Ail of sticks and chips, and a piece of candle which she
 
 1 62 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 managed to hold between two of her fingers. I ought lu 
 have gone and opened the parlor-door for her, but I was 
 struck dumb at my reception, and sat like a fool while she 
 pressed down the handle of the lock with her elbow and 
 pushed the door open with her foot. Good heavens ! I 
 thought, what does it all mean ? There is nobody else here 
 and it looks as if nobody was expected ! She is making a 
 fire in the parlor and she is going to " fix herself in no 
 time " only for me ? Why, when the old woman goes 
 into the kitchen, and the big brother stays at the lime-kiln, 
 and the young man and the young woman sit by themselves 
 in the best parlor, it 's " keeping company " it 's '' court- 
 ing"! 
 
 Instead of trembling with delight, I shivered with fear 
 Miss Verbena Cuff was no longer a buxom, rollicking dam- 
 sel, but a young ogress, who had lured me into her den and 
 would tear me with relentless claws until I purchased my 
 deliverance with sweet words and caresses. I knew that 
 "courting" implied such familiarities; I had often heard 
 that even candles were not necessary to its performance ; 
 and in my boyish ignorance I had always supposed that the 
 sentiment of love, upon one side at least, must precede the 
 custom. I did not know that in many parts of the country 
 it was a common expedient, indifferently practised, to de- 
 termine whether the parties were likely to love each other. 
 A kiss or a hug, now and then, was not looked upon as a 
 committal of the heart to a serious attachment ; such things 
 were cheap coins, used publicly in forfeits and other games, 
 and might be exchanged privately without loss to either'a 
 emotional property. 
 
 No ; I was haunted by a softer and sweeter image than 
 that of Verbena Cuff, a pure, ideal flame, which her lips, 
 red and full as they were, seemed pursed to blow out 
 Every fibre of my heart tingled and trembled with alarm 
 
 When she returned from the parlor, she brought hei 
 album and gave it to me. The back was covered witb
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES 153 
 
 green and brown calico, to preserve the morocco binding 
 u That 's the flower I could n't remember," said she, open 
 ing the book at a lithographed ranunculus ; " it looks just 
 like our butter-ball in the garden." 
 
 On turning over the leaves, my eye caught the name of 
 Amanda Brattou. Ah, I said to myself, let me read her 
 selection . It commenced. 
 
 ' Verbena, when I 'in far away," &c. 
 
 " What exquisite irony ! " I thought " She is too culti- 
 vated to cast pearls before swine." 
 
 All at once Tom Cuff came in, with a black jug in one 
 hand. lie twisted his mouth when he saw me, but gave 
 me his hand and said, " How are you, Master Godfrey ? " 
 
 I returned his greeting with a dignified air. 
 
 " Sis ! " he called, " more cider ! It 's mortal hot work, 
 and makes a fellow dry. Bring Godfrey a swig, while 
 you 're about it." 
 
 The cider was soon forthcoming, and so sharp and hard 
 that it made me wink. Tom took up his jug and started, 
 but halted at the door and said to me, " When you 're tired 
 talking to Sis, you may come down and look at the kiln. 
 I 've put in some big chunks, and it 's burnin' like all hell ! " 
 
 " I '11 come ! " I answered ; " I want to see it" 
 
 Here was a chance of escape, and I recovered my cour- 
 age. I informed Miss Verbena that I would write some- 
 thing for her which would suit the lily of the valley. I 
 should have preferred the verbena, but I saw that some- 
 body had been before me, somebody. I added, who no 
 doubt had a better right 
 
 " Oh, go along, now ! shut up ! it a'n't so ! " cried the 
 energetic maiden, giving me a poke which took away my 
 breath. 
 
 She bustled about a little more, arranging some house* 
 hold matters, and then came and stood before me, saying 
 
 Now I 'm done work ; don't I look like a fright ? "
 
 154 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 " No : you could n't do that if you were to try," I gal 
 lantly answered. 
 
 " None of your soft soap so soon in the evening ! " she 
 retorted. " Now I 'm going up-stairs to fix. You 'd better 
 sneak into the parlor ; it 's nice and warm." 
 
 " I guess I '11 step down and call on Tom. I want to 
 I ave a look at the kiln." 
 
 " Well don't stay more than ten minutes." 
 
 This I promised, solemnly intending to keep my word. 
 I went out the opposite door, opened a gate in the paling, 
 and found myself in a sloping field. The top of the kiln 
 glimmered in wreaths of colored flame, just below. me. and 
 I could see Tom's brawny form moving about in the light 
 which streamed from the mouth, at the foot of the knoll. 
 I walked first to the top, inhaled the pungent gas which 
 arose from the calcining stones, and meditated how I should 
 escape. The big dog had followed me, and was walking 
 about, sniffing suspiciously and occasionally uttering a low 
 growl. To quiet him, first of all, I went down to Tom, 
 took a pull at his jug, and commented on the grandeur of 
 the fire. 
 
 " Yes, it 's good now for half an hour," he said. " I 'm 
 agoin' to take a snooze. You 'd better go back to the 
 house Sis '11 be expectin' you." 
 
 " I will go back" I answered. 
 
 He lay down on a warm heap of sand and slaked lime, 
 and I climbed again to the burning crest of the kiln. The 
 big dog was there still ! but I saw a fence before me, and 
 knew that the road was beyond. I walked rapidly away, 
 and had my hand on the topmost rail, when the beast gave 
 a howl and bounded after me. Over I sprang, and started 
 to run, but I had totally forgotten that the road had been 
 cut into the side of the knoll, leaving a bank some fifteen 
 or twenty feet deep. My first step, therefore, touched ah 
 instead of earth : over and over I went, crashing through 
 briers and mullein-stalks, and loosening stones, which rat-
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 155 
 
 tied after me, until I brought up, with a thundering shock, 
 in the gutter below. I was on my feet in an instant, and 
 tearing at full speed past the wall in front of the house, on 
 the top of which I saw the dusky outline of the dog, spring- 
 ing towards the steps. There was a light at an upper win- 
 dow, and 1 fancied that I heard the sash raised. In less 
 time than it has taken to write these lines. I had reached 
 the creek and splashed through it, without taking time to 
 find the log. The water, fortunately, was only mid-leg 
 deep. Then I rushed forward again, stopping neither to 
 think nor take breath, until the fainter barking of the dog 
 showed that he had given up the chase. 
 
 How I had escaped cuts, bruises, or broken bones seemed 
 a miracle, but I was sound in every limb. I cannot now 
 pretend to unravel the confusion of thought in which I 
 walked slowly homewards. Was my fine-strung, excitable 
 nature a blessing or a curse ? Had I acted as a wise man 
 or a fool ? I strongly suspected the latter ; I had, at least, 
 betrayed a weakness at utter variance with my pretensions 
 to manhood, and which would render it impossible for me 
 ever again to meet either Verbena or Tom CufF without 
 feeling abashed and humiliated. I had run away, like a 
 coward, from the possibility of a situation which, in itself, 
 would ha\ e been, at the worst, a harmless diversion in the 
 eyes of the world. I was not forced to bestow the kisses 
 and hugs I foreboded ; a little self-possession on my part 
 was all that was necessary to give the visit a cool, Platonic 
 character, and I should have carried home my unprofantd 
 ideal. I imagined what Dan Yule would do in a similar 
 case, and admitted to myself that he would get out of the 
 scrape in a much more sensible way than I had done. 
 
 On the other hand, the aforementioned ideal was flat- 
 tered. I had saved it from even the suspicion of danger, 
 had braved ridicule, worse than hostility, for the sake of 
 keeping it pure I was made of better clay than the men 
 around me, and ought to be proud of it.
 
 1 50 JOHX GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 When I reached home, the family had not yet gone tc 
 bed. Nevertheless, I entered by the back-entry door, 
 which I found unlocked, stole to my room, kindled a fire, 
 and changed my coat, my best coat, alas ! which was 
 much soiled, and torn in two or three places. When I had 
 become composed, I went down to the kitchen, on the pre- 
 tence of getting a glass of water, but in reality to make the 
 family suppose that I had been spending the evening in my 
 own room. 
 
 Dan looked at me with a very queer expression, but he 
 asked me no questions, and it was many days before I con- 
 fided to him my adventure.
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 IH WHICH LOVE AND LITERATURE STIMULATE KiCH 
 OTHER. 
 
 IT must not be supposed that my literary ambition had 
 slumbered during all this time. Some four or five of my 
 poems had been published, the last two, to my great sat- 
 isfaction, without editorial correction ; and moreover, a 
 story of the Colonial days, entitled " The Wizard of Per- 
 kiomen," was announced as accepted. My first timidity tc 
 be known as an author was rapidly wearing away. I began 
 to wish that somebody would suspect me of being ' Selim," 
 but alas ! who was there of sufficient taste and penetration 
 to make the discovery? Would not Miss Amanda Bratton, 
 at least, recognize in the " Parable " I had written for her 
 album the same strings which vibrated in the " Unknown 
 Bard ? " To make assurance doubly sure, however, I at- 
 tached to the next poem I forwarded to Philadelphia, after 
 the signature of " Selim," the local address, " Yule's Mill, 
 Berks County, Pa." This would settle the matter for- 
 ever. 
 
 My mind the more easily habituated itself to literary ex- 
 pression from the isolation, whether" real or imagined, in 
 which I lived. I learned to confide to paper the thoughts 
 which I judged no one around me (except, perhaps, one 
 whom I dared not approach) was worthy to share. My 
 treasures accumulated much more rapidly than I could dis- 
 pose of them ; but I looked upon them as so much availa- 
 ble capital, to be used at the proper time. I had no further 
 doubt of my true vocation, but what rank I should attain in
 
 153 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 It was* a question which sometimes troubled me. I lacked 
 patience to toil for years in obscurity, looking forward to 
 the distant day when recognition must come, because it had 
 been fairly earned. My energy was of that kind which 
 fags without immediate praise. 
 
 There was now, as the reader may have suspected, an 
 additional spur to my impatience. My heart was pitched 
 *o the key of a certain sweet, subdued, even-toned voice. 
 I was jubilant with the consciousness that the one passion 
 which is not only permitted to authors, but is considered 
 actually necessary to their development, had come at last 
 to quicken and inspire me. It was a vague, misty, delicious 
 sensation, scorning to be put into tangible form, or to clothe 
 its yearnings with the material aspects of life. There was 
 poison in the thought of settlements, income, housekeeping 
 details; I turned away with an inward shudder, if such 
 things were accidentally suggested to my mind. My love 
 nourished itself upon dew, odors, and flute-like melodies. 
 
 I took the album back to Miss Amanda with a tremor 
 of mingled doubt and hope. She read the lines slowly. 
 and as she approached the bottom of the page I turned 
 away my eyes and waited, with my heart in my mouth, for 
 her voice. 
 
 " Oh, it is so pretty ! " she said ; " there is nothing so 
 nice in the book. You do write beautifully, Mr. Godfrey. 
 Have you composed anything for Verbena Cuff?" 
 
 She put the question in a careless way, which satisfied 
 me that there was not the least jealousy or selfishness in 
 her nature. So far as my hopes were concerned, I should 
 have been better satisfied if she had betrayed a slight 
 tinge of the former emotion ; but, on after-reflection, I de- 
 cided that I liked her all the better for the unsuspicious 
 truth and frankness of her nature. 
 
 " I could n't avoid it, you know, after promising," I said. 
 
 " I wish you would let me see it." 
 
 u I have no copy with me," I replied ; " but I have the
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 159 
 
 lines in my head. I wrote them for the lily of the valley 
 which, you know, means ' Humility ' : 
 
 " * My dwelling is the forest shade, 
 
 Beside the streamlet wandering free ; 
 'T is there, in modest green arrayed, 
 I hide my blossoms from the bee. 
 
 " ' But thou dost make the garden fair, 
 
 Where noonday sunbeams round thee fall; 
 How should the shrinking Lily dare 
 To hear the gay Verbena's call? ' 
 
 Yo notice the irony?" 
 
 " Yes," she answered, after a pause. " It 's a shame." 
 But she smiled sweetly, as she said so. 
 
 " Oh, you don't know," I cried, in transport, " you don't 
 know. Miss Bratton, how grateful it is to find a mind that 
 can understand you ! To find intelligence, and poetic feel- 
 ing, and and " 
 
 I paused, not knowing how to make the climax. 
 
 " Yes," she replied, casting down her eyes, and with a 
 mournful inflection of voice which went to my soul, " I un- 
 derstand it, from my own experience." 
 
 What more I should have said, with this encouragement, 
 I know not, for Mrs. Bratton put her head into the room, 
 announcing, " Tea, 'Manda. Mr. Godfrey, will you set 
 by?" 
 
 This was one of her peculiar phrases, which would have 
 provoked my mirth, had she not been the mother of her 
 daughter. But, as she was, I thought it quaint and origi- 
 nal. Another expression was, " Take off some o' the but- 
 ter," or whatever dish it might be. I accepted the invita- 
 tion, although my pleasure at having my tea ' seasoned " 
 by Miss Amanda was greatly lessened by the presence of 
 young Sep, in a state of exhilaration. He had just come 
 up from the Buck Tavern, and was in a humor for any 
 devilment It pleased him. in addressing me. to abbre- 
 viate my family-name in a way which made his remarks
 
 160 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 *eem shockingly profane. This he thought the perfectiot 
 of wit and he roared every time he uttered it. 
 
 Miss Amanda looked pained, as well she might be, and 
 over and over again exclaimed, " Don't, Sep ! " but .0 
 no purpose. I thought this was bad enough, but worse was 
 to come. 
 
 " I say, ," (I will not write the syllable he used), 
 
 " I saw Tom Cuff at the Buck to-day. He says the lime- 
 kiln 's done burning." Then he winked at me, arid burst 
 into a hoarse laugh. 
 
 I sat, frozen with horror. 
 
 " Lime-kiln ? ' was all I could say, hoping my confusion 
 might pass for ignorance in the pale, steady eyes which 
 must certainly be fixed on my face. 
 
 "You did n't know they had one, I reckon !" he contin- 
 ued. " Well, I won't tell tales out of school, even 
 against the schoolmaster." 
 
 I caught Miss Amanda's look, which asked, " "What does 
 he mean ? " Explanation, however, was impossible at the 
 time, and I said nothing. Sep's thoughts presently turned 
 into another channel, and my torment ceased, though not 
 my apprehensions as to the impression he had produced 
 on somebody else. 
 
 I did not dare to call too frequently, and several days 
 elapsed before I could make an explanation. I approached 
 the subject clumsily enough, feeling that my allusion to it 
 was a half-confession of misdemeanor, yet too disturbed to 
 take the opposite course, and ignore it. Of course, I omit- 
 ted the catastrophe of the evening, making the album ac- 
 count for my visit, and hinting, as delicately as possible, 
 that I had expected to meet Miss Bratton at Cuff's. How 
 I was relieved to find that I had misinterpreted the latter's 
 glance at the tea-table ! She had attached no meaning to 
 her brother's remark, had, in fact, forgotten all about it ! 
 Now that I mentioned the matter, she had an indistinct 
 recollection of something about Tom Cuff and a lime-kiln ;
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 161 
 
 but Sep had such a way of blurting out everything that 
 came into his head ! She knew, moreover, how " people " 
 always talked, making mountains out of mole-hills, but 
 Verbena Cuff was reckoned to be quite a nice girl, and I 
 need not object to have it known that I visited her now and 
 then. 
 
 I affirmed, with great earnestness, that I hoped I should 
 never see her again. 
 
 " Why, you seem to have quite a prejudice against her, 
 Mr. Godfrey," said Miss Amanda. " She is a good-hearted 
 creature, I assure you. with, perhaps, a little though 
 it may be wrong in me to say it a little want of polish. 
 That is a common want in Upper Samaria, however, and 
 maybe we all have it in your eyes." 
 
 " Oh, Miss Amanda Miss Bratton ! " I remonstrated, 
 " not all! You are unjust to yourself, and to me, if you 
 imagine I could think so. Your generosity will not allow 
 you to admit Verbena Cuff's coarseness and boldness of 
 manner ; you cannot feel the contrast as / do. It is just 
 because some others are cultivated, and refined, and pure- 
 spirited, that her ignorance is so repulsive to me ! " 
 
 She cast down her' eyes, and was silent for a minute. 
 Then she spoke in that gentle, deliberate way which so 
 charmed me : " Ye-es, there are others who have risen 
 above those who surround them. You will find them here 
 and there." 
 
 This was taking up my words altogether too literally. I 
 had spoken, it is true, in the plural, but my heart meant a 
 singular. In her perfect modesty, her ignorance of her 
 own spiritual value, she had misunderstood me. I did 
 not admire her the less for this quality, though I felt that 
 all my indirect professions, hitherto, must have failed to 
 reach her maidenly consciousness. 
 
 While I was uneasily shifting my cap from one hand to 
 another, uncertain whether to continue the subject, or give 
 our conversation another direction, she took up a paper 
 11
 
 162 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 which lay on the table beside her, unfolded it, and asked 
 with a bewitching air of pleasantry, 
 
 " Mr. Godfrey, do you know who ' Selim ' is ? " 
 I had not yet received my copy from the post-office 
 at Cardiff, and was therefore ignorant that my poem, enti- 
 tled " The Lament of Hero, after the Drowning of Lean- 
 der," commencing, 
 
 " Ay, howl ye Hellespontic waves ! " 
 
 had been printed in the number for that week ; but a 
 glance at the first page, as she held it towards me, showed 
 the success of my stratagem. I was discovered at last. 
 There, under ' Selim," was the address, " Yule's Mill, 
 Berks County." I will not describe my sensations at that 
 moment. I have understood ever since how a young girl 
 must feel when the man her heart has chosen unexpectedly 
 declares his own attachment. 
 
 " Have you read it ? Do you like it ? " I breathlessly 
 asked. 
 
 "Yes, indeed, it is lovely! I knew you must be a 
 poet, Mr. Godfrey. I saw the Belvidere Bard at Bethle- 
 hem. He visited our school ; and -he had eyes with the 
 same expression as you have. There 's something about 
 poets that distinguishes them from common people." 
 
 My own thought ! Was I not, like Byron, not altogether 
 made of such mean clay as rots into the souls of those 
 whom I survey ? And she, who stood as far above the rest 
 of her sex in that secluded valley as I stood above mine, 
 was the first the only one -to recognize my nobility. 
 Only the exiled Princess knew, under his rags, the lofty 
 bearing of the exiled Prince ! Oh, could I but woo her to 
 return my sprouting love, I would immortalize her in future 
 song, she should be my Hinda, my Medora, my Astarte 
 my Ellen of the Lake ! After Burns and his Highland 
 Mary, should be written the names of Godfrey and his 
 Amanda.
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 168 
 
 There was no end, that night, to my preposterous dreams. 
 As I recall them, I know not whether to weep or laugh. 
 The puny lily of my imaginative faculty seemed destined 
 to fill the world with its fragrance, and I could not see that 
 it was rooted, no less than the pig-weed, in the common 
 mud. I had yet to learn that the finer clay, upon which I 
 congratulated myself, is more easily soiled by the Devil's 
 fingers than one of coarser grit, that neither do such 
 natures as mine monopolize the beauty, the romance, and 
 the tragedy of life, nor are they exempt from the tempta- 
 tions which assail the ignorant, the excesses committed by 
 the vulgar. 
 
 The tidings that " the schoolmaster wrote verses for the 
 papers " were soon spread through the neighborhood. I 
 cannot, to this day, decide whether it was an advantage to 
 my reputation among the people, or the reverse. On the 
 one hand, they had little respect for any talent which did 
 not take a practical direction ; on the other, they vaguely 
 felt that it was a certain sort of distinction. The Yules, 
 and others, borrowed my copy of the paper, and, I am 
 bound to believe, dutifully read the poem. Dan was honest 
 enough to confess to me : " It 's a pretty jingle, but I can't 
 say as I know what it all means." The girls, I did not fail 
 to observe, were much more impressed by the discovery 
 than the young men. 
 
 By degrees, however, I received encouraging notices of 
 one kind or another. The shoemaker at the Buck, an old 
 Scotchman, who knew Burns by heart and sneered at Ho- 
 mer and Shakspeare, was one of my very first admirers 
 but he used to say, " Ye ha'n't got the lilt, lad," which 
 was very true, only I did n't believe him at the time. 
 Squire Bratton, being one day at Carterstown, brought me 
 a message from the Rev. Mr. Perego, to the effect that I 
 would find sublime subjects for my muse in the Scriptures : 
 he suggested Moses on Pisgah, and the visit of Naaman to 
 Elisha. I did, indeed, commence a poem on the formei
 
 164 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 subject, out of pure gratitude for the clergyman's interest, 
 but this was an insufficient inspiration, and the work 
 was never finished. Then I received many applications to 
 write obituary verses, made from so evident a piety to- 
 wards the dead, and with such sincere good faith in my 
 powers, that I had not the heart to refuse. I have no 
 doubt that some of my manuscripts are still preserved be- 
 tween the leaves of old Family Bibles, in Upper Samaria. 
 The applications for album poetry, at first so agreeable, 
 became at last a positive annoyance, because my poetic 
 apostrophes to Youth and Beauty were always taken in a 
 literal and personal sense. One day, in sheer desperation, 
 I wrote in a volume sent to me, through Susan Yule, by a 
 young lady of Cardiff, 
 
 " Oh, fair Unknown ! believe my simple rhyme : 
 Procrastination is the thief of time." 
 
 The lady, of whose age and circumstances I was utterly 
 ignorant, happened to be verging on ancient maidenhood, 
 much to her own disgust, and immediately suspected me 
 of a malicious insinuation. She tore out and burned the 
 leaf, and within three days Mrs. Yule picked up a report 
 that I had written something unmentionably coarse and 
 profane. It must have been generally believed, for I re- 
 ceived very few albums afterwards. 
 
 During this time the number of my pupils had been 
 gradually increasing, until there were frequently between 
 forty and fifty present at once, and all my youthful author- 
 ity was required to preserve even tolerable order. I had 
 little trouble with the oldest and the youngest, but the cubs 
 between twelve and sixteen sometimes drove me nearly to 
 distraction. Keeping them in after school-hours, was more 
 of an annoyance to myself than to them : I had a dislike 
 to bodily punishment, although it was well merited, and 
 allowed by the custom of the country ; and, moreover, to 
 confess the truth, I did not feel sure of my ability to sup
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 16 
 
 press a well-organized plan of rebellion. Towtids the end 
 of the winter, I had reason to believe that a "barring out" 
 was really contemplated, and communicated my suspi< Ions 
 to Dan Yule, who was my confidant in all external matters. 
 
 Dan took the matter much more coolly than I did. 
 " Boys will be boys," said he ; " they do it every winter; 
 fact is, I 've had a hand in it myself. But if you want to 
 fix 'em, 1 '11 put you up to a trick worth two o' their'n." 
 
 This struck me as better than resistance; so, prompted 
 by Dan, I procured some large iron spikes, and prepared 
 oblique holes in the window-frames to receive them. The 
 window-shutters consisted of a single piece, bolted on the 
 inside. I also went into the loft and bored a small hole 
 through the plaster of the ceiling, just over the stove. 
 Then, with tranquillity of soul, I waited for the event. 
 
 On Saturday morning, the closed shutters of the school- 
 house announced to me that the barring-out had commenced. 
 I tried to open the door, but found it firmly fastened on the 
 inner side. Then I went to each of the four windows, pre- 
 tending to examine them, but really inserting my spikes. 
 When this was done, I locked the door from without, and, 
 with a stone, drove the spikes home. The boys thought I 
 was attempting to force <:n entrance : I could hear their 
 malicious laughter. When all was secure, I took a rail 
 from the fence and placed it against the gable. It reached 
 so near the little garret- window that I easily effected an 
 entrance, and stole quietly along the middle joist to the 
 hole in the ceiling. The boys were at the windows, trying 
 to catch a glimpse of me through the cracks under the 
 shutters. It was a favorable moment. I hastily poured the 
 contents of a small paper of ground cayenne pepper down 
 through the hole upon the stove, slipped back again, re- 
 placed the rail, and gave a few more thumps on the window- 
 shutters by way of farewell. 
 
 Dan could not resist the temptation to lurk and lister 
 after I reported that the work was done, and his descrip-
 
 166 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUXES. 
 
 tion, that evening, of the sneezes and cries of distress ; th 
 swagger of some boys and the penitence of others ; the 
 consultations and the final determination to surrender ; the 
 bewilderment and dumb dismay at finding that they had 
 not only barred the master out, but the master had barred 
 them in, occasioned more laughter in the family than 1 
 had heard since I came to live with them. The efforts of 
 the boys to get out lasted for some time, and was only ac- 
 complished at last by wrenching one of the shutters off its 
 hinges. Then they scattered to their several homes, very 
 sheepish and crestfallen. 
 
 On the following Monday I opened school as usual. 
 There was a curious expectancy among the pupils, but I 
 made not the slightest allusion, then or afterwards, to the 
 Saturday's performance. Dan told the whole story at the 
 Buck, and it was some time before the boys heard the last 
 of it I had much less difficulty, thenceforth, in preserving 
 order. 
 
 As week after week of the winter passed away, and my 
 thoughts turned from the memory of autumn to the hope 
 of spring, the temporary character of my occupation forced 
 itself more and more upon my attention. In a short time 
 my engagement would be at an end, and I was less than 
 ever in the humor to renew it. What the next step should 
 be, was yet undecided, except that it must be forward and 
 upward into a wider sphere of action.
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 167 
 
 CHAPTER XTTT. 
 
 IK WHICH I DECLARE, DECIDE, AND VENTURE. 
 
 I HAVE already spoken of the exceptional way in which 
 my nature developed itself by sudden bounds, which, in 
 a very short time, carried me quite out of my former self. 
 The two, or three, or possibly twenty inherited elements were 
 not smoothly blended in my composition ; the blood of my 
 father's and mother's lines seemed only to run side by side, 
 not mingle in a new result, in my veins. It was a long time 
 very long after the period of which I am now writing 
 before I could comprehend my own laws of growth and he- 
 ing, and reconcile their apparent inconsistencies. As yet, 
 my power of introversion was of the shallowest kind. 1 
 floated along, with closed eyes, on the current of my sensa 
 tions and my fancies. 
 
 My growing attachment to Miss Amanda Bratton, how 
 ever, was the means of pushing me a long stride forwards. 
 It thoroughly penetrated me with a soft, ideal warmth, far 
 enough removed from the strong flame of ripe masculine 
 passion, and gently stimulated all my mental and moral en- 
 ergies. My ambition began to find its proper soil of self- 
 reliance, and to put forth its roots. A new force was at 
 work in my frame, giving strength and elasticity to the mus- 
 cles, " keying up " many a slack fibre, lifting the drooping 
 lid of the eye and steadying its gaze, and correcting, with 
 a clearer outline, the boyish softness of the face. I no 
 longer shrank from the coming encounter with the world 
 but longed for the test of courage and the measure of 
 strength.
 
 168 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 Yet, in one respect, I felt myself still a coward. Al- 
 though convinced of the eternal devotion of my heart to 
 the beloved object, I had not dared to declare it I saw 
 her frequently, and our relation became more and more 
 sweetly intimate and confidential ; but I never surprised a 
 blush when I came, nor detected a tender tremor of voice 
 when I left. Her natiire was as calm, and apparently as 
 limpid, as a shaded pool in the heart of a forest. When 
 I looked in her clear, unchanging eyes, as they steadily 
 rested on mine. I felt the presence of a pure, unsuspecting, 
 virgin soul. It seemed to me that my ever-present con- 
 sciousness of love was met by as profound an unconscious- 
 ness. I longed, yet dreaded to arouse her from her peace- 
 ful and innocent dream. 
 
 The solution of my two uncertainties was hastened by an 
 unexpected occurrence. Early in March I was surprised 
 by a visit from Rand, who came, as he said, on some busi- 
 ness in which D. J. Mulford and Squire Bratton were both 
 concerned. Of course he was the guest of the latter dur- 
 ing the two or three days of his stay. He came over to the 
 mill on the evening of his arrival, and almost embraced me 
 in a gush of affectionate ardor when we met. I was equally 
 delighted, and took him at once up to my room for a chat, 
 as on our Sunday afternoons in Reading. 
 
 " Why, Godfrey, old boy," said he, lighting a cigar with- 
 out ceremony, " what a snug little den you have ! And 
 Bratton tells me you 're a good hand at the school, and do 
 credit to his choice. I must say I 'm glad it has turned out 
 so. for I took a little of the responsibility upon myself in 
 the beginning, you remember. Bratton 's a keen, long- 
 headed man something of a swell, between ourselves ; 
 but so is your affectionate old uncle, for that matter. By 
 the way, I 've made Woolley's acquaintance, in the way of 
 professional business ; oh, you need n't be alarmed ; your 
 little legacy had nothing to do with it. I 'm sorry 1 can'* 
 explain myself more particularly, but these matters are con-
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 169 
 
 fidential. you know. I 'm posted up about all the business 
 in Mulford's hands, and he finds it convenient to let me 
 help him now and then. I say, though, Godfrey, no, 
 ' Selim,' I mean, you are getting famous. That Hero 
 and Leander article was copied into the Gazette, the other 
 day. Of course, when I saw " Yule's Mill " at the bottom, 
 I knew what bird had whistled. I congratulate you, 
 upon my soul I do ! " 
 
 I was not proof against such hearty, outspoken sympathy. 
 Before Rand left I had confided to him my most cherished 
 literary hopes and desires, had read to him the best of my 
 treasures in manuscript, and asked his advice as to the next 
 step I ought to take. 
 
 " Leave here, by all means," he said. " Go to Philadel- 
 phia, or, still better, to New York, where you '11 find the 
 right sort of work. You may come to write novels or trag- 
 edies, in the course of time, and make as much in a month 
 as you would in a year with such a school as this. I should 
 advise you, though, Selim," (he persisted in addressing me 
 so,) " to get into some newspaper or book business ; it 's 
 more solid and respectable. Poets, you know, are always 
 dissipated, and finish with the poor-house." 
 
 I resented this statement with great warmth. 
 
 " Oh, well," he continued, " I did n't mean that that 
 would be your fate, Selim. Besides, it may work off after 
 a while. Lots of fellows catch poetry, and have it a year 
 or two, and it don't seem to do them any harm. Mulford 
 wrote a song for the last Presidential campaign, to the tune 
 of ' TullaJtgorum,' and it does n't sound so bad, when he 
 sings it. But, to come to the point, the city 's the place for 
 you, or any man that wants to live by his wits. Only keep 
 your eyes skinned, and don't let the hair grow on your 
 tongue. You must either have gold in your pocket, or brass 
 in your face. Most people can't tell one from t' other." 
 
 Rand's expressions jarred harshly on my more delicate 
 nature; but then, I knew precisely what he was, good-
 
 170 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 hearted, I believed, but thoroughly unideal. The 
 thing was, his judgment coincided with my own ; he, too, 
 recognized that I was fitted for a more important field of ac- 
 tion. The very materialism of his views gave them greater 
 practical value in my eyes. Not that I paid much regard 
 to this side of the question ; but it is always more comfort- 
 able to have the conclusions of Selfishness with you than 
 against you. 
 
 My first plan had been to select Philadelphia as my fu- 
 ture residence. My poetical pseudonym was known to at 
 least one literary paper there, and I might make the ac- 
 quaintance of Saxon, author of the series of " Moral Nov- 
 els," and Brightaxe, who wrote the dramatic poem of the 
 " Traitor of Talladega." On the other hand, the dii majo- 
 res had their seats in New York ; and I fancied Irving, 
 Cooper, Percival, and poets whose names I will not men- 
 tion because they are still living, seated day by day 
 around the same Olympian board, and talking in splendid 
 tropes and cadences. Even if they only asked for pota- 
 toes, there must be a certain rhythmic grace in the words, 
 with caesural pauses falling at classic intervals. Ye gods ! 
 what a fool I still was ! 
 
 There was at that time a monthly magazine, called " The 
 Hesperian," published in New York. It was devoted to 
 Literature and Fashion, and was illustrated both with col- 
 ored figures copied from Le Fottet, and mezzotints of mushy 
 texture, representing such subjects as " The Mother's Bless- 
 ing," or " He Comes Too Late." I looked upon the latter 
 as miracles of art, and imbibed the contributions as the 
 very cream of literature. The names of the writers were 
 printed in capitals on the last page of the cover, and my 
 heart throbbed when I saw Adeliza Choate among them. 
 I wondered whether I could not keep step with her on the 
 Parnassian steep ; to have my name so printed was a down- 
 right assurance of immortality. Accordingly, I picked out 
 my choicest manuscript and forwarded it with a note, signed
 
 JOHN GODFREI'S FORTUNES. 171 
 
 with my proper name. By a happy coincidence, the verj 
 day after Rand's arrival I received a note from " G. Jenks. 
 Publisher, per W. Timms," stating that my poem would 
 appear in the May number, further, that it was not G. 
 Jenks's habit to pay a nom de plume, but that he would 
 send me the Magazine gratuitously for six months. 
 
 This piece of good fortune decided me. True, it opened 
 no prospect of remunerative employment but then I should 
 not be obliged to pay for " The Hesperian." 
 
 As I was walking home from school, reading the letter 
 over again, Rand and Squire Bratton, coming up from the 
 direction of the Buck, overtook me. The latter was un- 
 usually cordial and condescending, insisting that I should 
 take tea at his house that evening, as my friend Rand was 
 to return to Reading the next morning. Of course, I was 
 only too willing to comply. 
 
 After tea. Miss Amanda opened her piano and sang for 
 us. My enjoyment of her talent, however, was a little dis- 
 turbed by Rand's prosaic whispers of, " She 's been put 
 through the regular paces at school, and no mistake. That 
 style of thing was n't meant for Upper Samaria." 
 
 At the close of the song, tears of feeling swam in my 
 eyes, but Rand loudly clapped his hands. '' You have an 
 exquisite touch, Miss Bratton," he called across the room ; 
 " it 's rare to find so much musical talent" 
 
 " I have no doubt you hear much better music in Read- 
 ing, Mr. Rand," she modestly replied. 
 
 " No, I assure you ! " he exclaimed, in his most earnest 
 voice, starting from his seat and approaching her. " The 
 Miss Clevengers are called fine performers, but I prefer 
 your style. They bang and hammer so, you can hardly 
 make out what it is they 're playing. It does n't touch youi 
 feelings." 
 
 Hang the fellow ! I thought. If I had but half his assur- 
 ance, T should know my fate before twenty-four hours are 
 over. I did not hear the conversation which ensued, foi
 
 172 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 Squire Bratton turned towards me with some questicj 
 about the school ; but I could mark the honeyed softness 
 of his voice, as he hung over her music-stool. I did not 
 know why I should feel disturbed. He was a chance vis- 
 itor had never seen her before, and might never come 
 again. She was bound to treat him with proper courtesy 
 and her manner was not such as to invite an immediate fa- 
 miliarity. There was nothing wrong anywhere, yet a fool- 
 ish, feverish unrest took possession of me. 
 
 Later in the evening, the album was produced. Miss 
 Amanda immediately turned to my page, and said, "Oh, 
 Mr. Rand, you must read what Mr. Godfrey has written." 
 
 " Capital ! " he exclaimed, after he had perused the lines. 
 " What a nice touch of fancy ! Godfrey, you must really 
 have been inspired. But such a flower would make almost 
 any bird sing even a kill-deer like myself." 
 
 He looked full in her face as he uttered the words. In- 
 voluntarily, I did the same thing, to note how she would 
 receive the brazen compliment. 
 
 " You shall have a chance, then," she quietly said ; " I 
 will bring you pen and ink directly." 
 
 " Oh, by Jove, that 's taking me up with a vengeance ! " 
 Rand exclaimed. ' I could n't do such a thing to save my 
 ife. Godfrey, you must help me." 
 
 "I 'm not a mocking-bird. I can only sing my own song." 
 
 She smiled, but without looking at me. 
 
 K Well, then," said Rand, " I must get something out of 
 iry memory. How will this do ? 
 
 " ' My pen is bad, my ink is pale, 
 My love to yon shall never fail.' " 
 
 u No," said she, taking the book from his hand, " I will 
 not have anything of the kind. You are making fun of 
 my album, and I '11 put it away." 
 
 " Aw, now." groaned Rand, assuming an expression of 
 penitence. But it was too late. The book was already re-
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 178 
 
 moved, and Miss Bratton came back with an arch air oi 
 reproof, saying to him, " You must behave better another 
 time." 
 
 " Oh, I shall always be afraid of you " 
 
 I went home that night with an increase of hope, ami a 
 growing determination to declare my sentiments. I scarce- 
 ly slept, so busily was my mind occupied in creating possi- 
 ble situations, and enacting the tender drama in advance. 
 I succeeded in everything but her answers, which I could 
 not through sympathy with myself make rejective, yet 
 did not dare to make consentive. 
 
 I had hoped, all along, that some happy accident might 
 disclose the truth, that some mutually felt warmth of long- 
 ing might bring us naturally to the brink where my confes- 
 sion would be the first step beyond ; but no such came. I 
 must either seek or make the opportunity. After much 
 painful uncertainty of mind, I hit upon what I suppose 
 must be a very general device of young lovers, to an- 
 nounce my approaching departure, and be guided by the 
 manner in which she should receive it. 
 
 The month of March drew to a close, and I had but one 
 week more of the school before the coveted chance ar- 
 rived. It was Saturday afternoon, and one of those deli- 
 cious days of windless and cloudless sunshine when the 
 sad-hued earth sleeps, and sleeping, dreams of summer. I 
 walked up the creek, in order to look for arbutus-blossoms 
 on a wooded knoll above the mill-dam. We had been talk- 
 ing of them a few days before, and she had told me where 
 they grew. I found the plants, indeed, pushing forth from 
 under the fallen leaves, but the flowers were not yet devel- 
 oped. I gathered, iastead, a bunch of club-moss, and took 
 rny seat upon an old stump, to listen to a bluebird that 
 sang from the willow-thicket below. Something in the in- 
 dolent quiet of the air reminded me of the shady glen at 
 Honeybrook, and I thought of my cousin Penrose. Ho* 
 far away it seemed !
 
 174 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 After a while I heard the sound of wheels approaching 
 on the road from Cardiff, and a light open wagon came into 
 sight around the head of the knoll. I recognized Sep 
 Bratton by his voice before I could distinguish his figure 
 through the trees ; and the dark-blue drapery beside him 
 could it be ? yes, it really was Amanda ! The road 
 passed some thirty or forty feet below me, but neither of 
 them looked up in my direction. 
 
 " I 'm going down to the Buck," I heard Sep say, " but 
 I '11 let you off at the turning. Or, do you want to stop 
 and see Sue Yule ? " 
 
 " Not to-day," she answered. " But don't stay long, Sep. 
 You know, Pa don't like it" 
 
 I listened no more, for a wild idea shot through my brain : 
 I would cross the stream above the dam, hurry down on 
 the opposite side, and intercept her ! As soon as the vehi- 
 cle disappeared, I bounded down the knoll, leaped the nar- 
 row channel, and stole as rapidly as possible, under cover 
 of the thickets, towards the path she must take. I had 
 plenty of time to recover my breath, for she was still stand- 
 ing beside the wagon, talking to Sep, who seemed excited. 
 I could hear the sound of his voice, but not the words. 
 
 At last, the sweet suspense terminated. Sep drove off, 
 and I saw her gradually approach. Assuming a careless, 
 sauntering air, which belied my inward perturbation, I 
 emerged into view, walked a few steps, paused and looked 
 around, seemed suddenly to perceive her, and then went 
 forward to meet her. 
 
 Never had she looked so lovely. Her eyes expressed 
 the same unchanging calm, harmonizing, as I thought, with 
 the peaceful sky over us, but the air had brought a faint 
 tinge to her cheek and ruffled a little the smoothness of her 
 light-brown hair. I noticed, also, the steady even measure 
 of her step if there had been harebells in her path, thej 
 would have risen up from it, elastic, as from the foot of the 
 Lady of the Lake. She carried a dainty parasol, closed
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 175 
 
 and occasionally twirled it on her forefinger by an ivory 
 ring at the end of the handle. 
 
 By the time we had exchanged greetings, and I had spo- 
 ken of the arbutus and given her the club-moss, we passed 
 the dam, and the road would soon bring us to Bratton'a 
 gate. What I had to say must be said speedily. 
 
 " I am going to leave here, Miss Bratton." 
 
 a Inde-e-d ! So soon ? " she exclaimed, pausing in her 
 valk, as I had done. 
 
 " Yes, I am going to New York. This may be my last 
 walk with you. Let us go down the bank, as far as the old 
 hemlock." 
 
 She seemed to hesitate. "I don't know," she said, at 
 last " Ma expects me." But while she spoke her steps 
 had turned unconsciously, with mine, into the footpath. 
 
 " I want to tell you why I go," I continued. " Not be 
 cause I have not been very happy here, but this is not the 
 life for me. I must be an author, if I can, something, at 
 any rate, to make my name honorable. I feel that I have 
 some little talent, and if I am ambitious it is not for myself 
 alone. I want to be worthy of my friends." 
 
 " Oh, you are that already, Mr. Godfrey," said she. 
 
 " Do you think so, Miss Amanda ? " 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 Her voice expressed a positiveness of belief which was 
 grateful, but, somehow, it did not encourage me to the final 
 avowal. I had reached the brink, however, and must 
 plunge now or never. 
 
 " If I should make myself a name, Miss Amanda," I 
 went on, with broken, trembling voice, " it will be for you 
 sake. Do you hope, now, that I shall succeed ? " 
 
 She did not answer. 
 
 " I must tell you, before I go, that I love you have 
 loved you since we first met. I am presumptuous, I know, 
 to ask for a return, but my heart craves it." 
 
 T paused. She had partly turned away her head, and 
 seemed to be weeping.
 
 176 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTC^S. 
 
 'Tell me, you are not offended by what T have said," 1 
 entreated. 
 
 " No," she murmured, in a scarcely audible voice. 
 
 A wild hope sprang up in my heart " You do not com- 
 mand me to forget you ? " 
 
 " No," said she, as faintly as before. 
 
 " Then may I go and labor in the blessed knowledge that 
 you think of me, that you will be faithful as I am faith- 
 ful, that, O Amanda ! is it really true ? Do you re- 
 turn my love ? " 
 
 She had buried her face in her handkerchief. I gently 
 put one arm around her waist and drew her towards me. 
 Her head sank on my shoulder. " Speak, darling ! " I en- 
 treated. 
 
 " I cannot," she whispered, hiding her face on my breast. 
 
 It was enough. A pulse of immeasurable joy throbbed 
 in my heart, chimed wonderful music in my ears, and over- 
 flowed in waves of light upon the barren earth. The hill- 
 tops were touched with a nimbus of glory, and far beyond 
 them stretched a shining world, wherein the thorns burs' 
 
 O ' 
 
 into muffling roses, and the sharp flints of the highway be- 
 came as softest moss. I loved, and I was beloved ! 
 
 My arms closed around her. My face bent over her, 
 and my lips sealed on hers the silent compact. I would 
 not torture her pure, virginal timidity of heart. Her sweet 
 and natural surrender spoke the words which her voice 
 could not yet utter. I repeated my own declaration, with 
 broken expressions of rapture, now that my tongue was 
 loosed and the courage of love had replaced its cowardice. 
 
 We reached the old hemlock, I knew not how, and sat 
 down on the bank, side by side. I took and tenderly held 
 her hand, which trembled a little as it lay in mine. Meas- 
 uring her agitation, as woman, by mine, as man, I could 
 readily make allowance for all that was passive in her atti- 
 tude and words. I had burst upon her suddenly with my 
 declaration, startling the innocent repose of her heart with
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 177 
 
 the consciousness of love, and she must have time to be- 
 come familiar with the immortal guest. 
 
 I explained to her my plans, so far as they possessed a 
 definite shape. My success in literature I spoke of as a 
 thing assured ; one year, or, at most, two, would be suffi- 
 cient to give me a sure position. Then I could boldly re- 
 turn and claim her as my precious reward, now, I must 
 be satisfied with my blissful knowledge of her love, upon 
 whic" I should rely as upon my own. My trust in her was 
 boundless, if it were not so, I could not possibly bear the 
 pangs of absence. 
 
 " We shall write to each other, shall we not, Amanda ? " 
 I asked. " Our hearts can still hold communion, and im- 
 part reciprocal courage and consolation. Promise me this, 
 and I have nothing more to ask." 
 
 " If we can arrange it so that no one shall know," she 
 answered. " I would n't have Pa or Ma find it out for any- 
 thing. I 'm sure they would n't hear of such a thing yet 
 awhile. But we are both young, Mr. Godfrey " 
 
 " Call me ' John,' " I murmured, in tender reproach. 
 
 She beamed upon me a sweet, frank smile, and contin 
 ued : " We are so young, John, and we can wait and hope. 
 I am sure if ever anybody was constant, you are. You 
 must write, but not very often. If you could only send 
 your letters so that Pa or Sep should not see them ! Sep 
 would soon notice them, and you know how he t#lks ! " 
 
 I was equally convinced of the propriety of keeping our 
 attachment secret for the present. The difficulty in rela- 
 tion to correspondence had not occurred to me before. It 
 was a new proof of the interest she felt in the successful 
 issue of our love. 
 
 " How can it be done ? " said I. " We might send our 
 letters through somebody else. There 's Dan Yule, as hon- 
 est a fellow as ever lived ! " 
 
 " Oh ! " she exclaimed, " nobody must know what what 
 you have said to me ! " 
 19
 
 178 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 u He shall not know ! " I protested. " I '11 make up som 
 story to explain the letters to Dan, and he 's so simple- 
 minded, he never suspects anything. Or, is there anybody 
 else?" 
 
 No, she could think of no one, and she finally consented 
 though with reluctance, to the proposal. She now insisted 
 on returning home, and I must, perforce, be satisfied with 
 one more kiss before we emerged from the screen of the 
 brook-trees. On reaching the road, we parted with a long 
 clasp of hands, which said to me th;it her heart now recog 
 nized the presence of love, and would be faithful forever. 
 
 I saw her twice again before my departure, but could 
 only exchange a few stolen words, hot with compressed 
 emotion. Sorrow for the parting, and a joyous impatience 
 to be away and at work for her sake, were strangely min- 
 gled in my heart ; yet joy was most natural to my temper- 
 ament, and it now poured through my days like a freshet, 
 flooding over and drowning every lingering barrier of doubt 
 or self-distrust 
 
 When my school closed and my account with the direc- 
 tors was settled, I found myself in possession of nearly 
 seventy dollars, as the net result of my winter's labors. I 
 was also, had I known it, entitled to receive the annual in- 
 terest on the sum in my uncle's hands ; but I was too little 
 alive to mere material matters to make any inquiry about 
 it, and supj^osed that, in breaking away from his guardian- 
 ship, I had debarred myself from all claims of the kind, 
 until I should be my own master. 
 
 The arrangement with Dan Yule, with regard to my cor- 
 respondence with Amanda, was easily made. My repeated 
 declaration that it was mere friendly interchange of letters 
 would have made any one else suspicious, but Dan merely 
 nodded his head, and said, " All right, I '11 'tend to it." 
 
 The diy of departure came, and, with many a hearty 
 farewell and promise to revisit them, I took leave of the 
 kind Yules, and commenced my journey into the world.
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 179 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 IK WHICH I GO TO MARKET, BUT CANNOT SELL MY 
 WARES. 
 
 ON a cloudy afternoon, in the early part of April, behold 
 me stepping ashore on the Courtlandt Street pier, from the 
 Jersey City ferry-boat. Everything was new and bewilder- 
 ing. The rush of my fellow-passengers ; the cries of the 
 hackmen, brandishing their long whips ; the crowd of carts, 
 drays, and carriages, and the surge and swirl of one chaotic 
 whirlpool of Noise, in the vortex of which I seemed to 
 stand, stunned and confused my perceptions. After nearly 
 losing the trunk in which my inestimable manuscripts were 
 stowed, and paying an enormous price for its transfer to a 
 thick-necked porter, who. I feared, would knock me down 
 before I could hand him the money, I succeeded in finding 
 quarters at Lovejoy's Hotel, an establishment which Sep 
 Bratton had recommended to me. The officiating clerk, 
 who struck me as a fellow of very obliging manners, gave 
 me a front room on the fourth story, on learning that I 
 should probably remain a week or two. I had neither ati 
 acquaintance nor a recommendatory letter to any person in 
 the great city ; but my funds, I supposed, were sufficient to 
 support me for two or three months, and it was quite im 
 possible that I should not find employment by that time. 
 
 I spent the remainder of my first day in wandering 
 around the Park and up and down Broadway, feasting my 
 eyes on the grandeur and novelty of everything I saw. I 
 knew not which was most remarkable the never-ending 
 crowd that filled the chief thoroughfare, the irregular splen-
 
 (80 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 dor of the shops, or the filthiness of the pavement. With 
 the recollection of the undeviating Philadelphian squares 
 of brick bound in white marble in my mind. I could with 
 difficulty comprehend that I had not passed into some for- 
 eign country. 1 was also favorably impressed with the 
 apparent friendliness of the inhabitants. Although the 
 most of them passed me without even a glance, I was ac- 
 costed in the Park by several gentlemen, who, probably 
 recognizing the stranger in my air, asked me if I did not 
 wish to see the city. Indeed, they were so importunate 
 that I had some difficulty in declining their proffered ser- 
 vices. Then, as evening came down on Broadway, I was 
 quite surprised at receiving now and then a greeting from 
 a superbly dressed lady, who certainly could never have 
 seen me before. Some of them, in fact, seemed to be on 
 the point of speaking to me ; but as I feared they had mis- 
 taken me for some one else, 1 hurried away, slightly embar- 
 rassed. 
 
 I was so impatient to explore the field which I intended 
 thenceforth to cultivate, that, as soon as I had taken break- 
 fast next morning in the subterranean restaurant of the 
 hotel, I set out for the office of " The Hesperian," which 
 was near at hand, in Beekman Street. A small boy was 
 just taking down the shutters. On my inquiring for Mr. 
 Jenks, he informed me that that individual would be in at 
 eleven o'clock, when I might call again, if I wanted to see 
 him. During the intervening three or four hours I wan- 
 dered about, from the Battery to Canal Street, purchased 
 and read two or three literary papers I had never heard of 
 before, and supplied myself with several manuscripts, for 
 Mr. Jenks's inspection. 
 
 On returning to " The Hesperian " office, I found a tall, 
 thin-faced young man, with a black moustache, behind the 
 counter. He was making up bundles of the magazine, and 
 the number of copies on the shelves behind him excited 
 my amazement Tf this was Jenks. I thought, no doubt he
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 181 
 
 was a young author like myself, and would receive me with 
 the open arms of fraternal sympathy. 
 
 " Are you Mr. Jenks ? " I asked. 
 
 " No : .vish to see him particular ? " 
 
 It was, therefore, only- \V. Timms, the " per." 
 
 "Anything /can do for you? " he repeated. 
 
 " Thank you," said I, " I should like to see Mr. Jenks 
 himself, a moment, if he 's in." 
 
 By way of answer, he twirled his left thumb towards the 
 back of the office, giving a jerk of his head in the same 
 direction, as he tied another bundle. 
 
 Looking that way, I saw that one corner of the office 
 was partitioned off from the rest, monopolizing more than 
 half the light of the back-window. The door to this en- 
 closure was open, and 1 could distinguish a large head, 
 mounted on a square body, within. 
 
 Mr. Jenks was absorbed in the perusal of a newspaper, 
 which he held before him, firmly grasped in both hands, as 
 if about to tear it in twain. Before he looked up, I had 
 time to take a rapid survey of his appearance. He was a 
 man of forty-five, short, stout, gray, and partly bald ; feat- 
 ures keen, rigidly marked, and with a hard, material stamp 
 no gleam of taste or imagination anywhere. He evi- 
 dently noticed my entrance, but finished his sentence or 
 paragraph before consenting to be interrupted. 
 
 " Well ? '' said he, suddenly, tossing the paper to one 
 side : " what is it ? " 
 
 " Perhaps you remember," I mildly suggested, " writing 
 to me about my poem of ' Leonora's Dream, which will be 
 in " The Hesperian ' for May." 
 
 " What 's your name ? " he asked. 
 
 " Godfrey." 
 
 " What 's the handle to your ' Godfrey ' ? " 
 
 This question was not only rude but incomprehensible. 
 1 supposed, after a moment's reflection, that he must mean 
 my business or vocation, and was about to explain, when he 
 repeated,
 
 182 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 a Your given name ? " 
 
 I gave it. 
 
 He stretched forth his arm, took a folio volume from ita 
 upright niche over his desk, looked at its index, turned 
 over the pages until he found what was probably a copy of 
 ihe letter, and read, jerking out these words as he did so : 
 
 " Yes Godfrey May number magazine for six 
 months gratuitously." Here he slapped the volume shut, 
 replaced it, and reiterated, " Well ? " 
 
 " I have brought some other poems," I said. " Perhaps 
 you might like some of them. I have come to New York 
 to make literature my profession, and should therefore ex- 
 pect to be paid for my articles. Here is a long narrative 
 poem, which I think my best; it is a romantic subject 
 4 Ossian on the Hill of Morven.' Would you like to look 
 at it?" 
 
 He took the proffered manuscript, tossed over leaf after 
 leaf to see its length, and then addressed me with unneces- 
 sary energy : " Young man, this may be apples of gold in 
 pictures of silver, for anything I know, but it won't do 
 for me. It would make ten pages of the magazine, and 
 four a month is as much as I can allow for poetry. I have 
 a bushel-basket full of contributions which I can't use. 
 The public want variety. It's a good thing to encourage 
 young writers, and we reckon to do our share, but busi- 
 ness is business." 
 
 Very much discouraged, yet unwilling to give up all hope 
 of literary occupation, I asked whether it would not be pos- 
 sible for me to furnish articles of another character. 
 
 " You 're hardly up to what I want," said Mr. Jenks. 
 " I 'd like to have a few short, sentimental stories, to piece 
 out with now and then, something light and airy," (here 
 he made a spiral upward movement with his forefinger,) 
 * such as women like to read, with a good deal of Milli- 
 nery in them. It takes practice just to hit the mark ic 
 these things."
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 188 
 
 " I might try\ Mr. Jenks," I suggested. 
 4 As you please. But I make no engagements before- 
 hand, except with standard authors. What have you 
 there ? " 
 
 I handed him the remaining sheets, which contained 
 various brief lyrics, mostly of an amatory character. He 
 whirled them over in the same rapid way, reading a line 
 here and there, and then returned them, together with my 
 Ossian." 
 
 " One or two things there might do, if I was n't over- 
 stocked," he said. " Besides, you 're not known, and your 
 name would be no advantage to the Magazine. Get a lit- 
 tle reputation, young man, before you try to make your liv- 
 ing by literature. Write a sonnet on a railroad accident, 
 or something else that everybody \ull read, or have one of 
 your singable poems set to music and made fashionable, 
 and then I '11 talk to you. You can't expect me to pay 
 while there 's a young and rising genius on every bush, and 
 to be had for the picking." 
 
 As he said this, he turned short around to his desk, and 
 began opening a pile of letters. Nothing was left to me 
 but to retreat, in rather a disordered manner. W. Timms 
 gave a significant glance at the manuscripts in my hand as 
 I passed out through the store, and I hastened to hide them 
 in the breast-pocket of my coat. I will not conceal the fact 
 that I was deeply humiliated, not so much because my 
 poems were refused, as because I had voluntarily come 
 down to the plane where I must submit to be tested by 
 coarse, material standards. I felt now for the first time 
 that there is an Anteros, as well as an Eros, in literature, 
 and the transition from one to the other was too sudden to 
 be made without a shock. I began to fear that what I be- 
 lieved to be Inspiration would accomplish little towards the 
 furtherance of my plans, unless it were allied to what I 
 knew to be Policy ; in other words, that my only chance 
 of success with "The Hesperian " lay in writing one of the
 
 184 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 short, airy, millinery tales, which Mr. Jenks could use u to 
 piece out with." 
 
 The idea grew less repulsive, as I brooded over it I 
 found my mind spontaneously at work, contriving charac- 
 ters and situations, almost before I knew it By night, I 
 had wellnigh decided to make the attempt Meanwhile, I 
 recognized that there was a grain of truth amid the harsh- 
 ness of Mr. Jenks's concluding words. I should certainly 
 have but little chance of obtaining employment unless my 
 name were known to some extent " Selim," of course, 
 must be dropped, and " John Godfrey " stand forth boldly 
 as the father of his own angelic progeny ; but even then, 
 I was not sure that the reputation would immediately fol- 
 low. I might plunge into the golden flood as soon as I was 
 able to swim, butt how could I learn the art on the dry land 
 of poverty and obscurity ? One of the suggestions struck 
 me as being plausible. I knew how eagerly songs are 
 passed from voice to voice through the country, and music 
 seemed a fitting adjunct to some of my shorter lyrics. If, 
 for instance, that commencing " I pine for thee at night 
 and morn " were wedded to some fair and tender melody, 
 it alone might raise me in a short time from the darkness 
 
 O 
 
 of my estate. 
 
 In the afternoon, therefore, I made another venture. 
 Not deterred by the crossed banjos in the window of a 
 music-store, and the lithograph of Christy's Minstrels, in 
 costume, on the title-page of a publication, I entered and 
 offered my finer wares. I was received with more courtesy 
 than at u The Hesperian " office, but the result was the same. 
 The publisher dealt rather in quadrilles, polkas, and Ethio- 
 pian melodies, than songs of a sentimental character. He 
 read my poems, which he pronounced very sweet and ten- 
 der, and thought they might be popular, but more de- 
 pended on the air than on the words, and it was rather out 
 of his line. His politeness encouraged me to use a little 
 persuasion, yet without effect He was sorry, etc., undei
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 18 
 
 other circumstances, etc., and I felt, finally, that his 
 smooth manner covered a fixed decision. I went home 
 towards evening, with the manuscripts still in my pocket. 
 
 It is useless to deny that my hopes were somewhat dashed 
 by the day's experience. Already the fragrance of life 
 began to drift away, and the purple bloom to fade. Even 
 a poet, I saw, (and whether I were one or not, this was the 
 only character in which I had presented myself,) met with 
 a cold and questioning reception from the world. What- 
 ever I might achieve must be the spoil, not the gift, of 
 Fate : I must clench for a blow the hand which I had 
 stretched out with an open palm. All my petty local 
 triumphs, my narrow distinctions, my honest friendships, 
 were become absolutely nothing. I wore no badge that 
 could be recognized, but stood naked before a world that 
 would test every thew of my frame before it clothed me 
 with its mantle of honor. 
 
 Physical fatigue and the reaction from my first causeless 
 yet inevitable excitement added to the gloom of the mood 
 that fell upon me. Let no one tell me that there are na- 
 tures so steeled and strung to their purpose that they never 
 know discouragement. Some, indeed, may always turn a 
 brave face to their fellow-beings ; a few, perhaps, might 
 sooner die than betray a flagging courage ; but no high 
 prize was ever reached by a brain unacquainted with doubt. 
 
 I read something I forget what to escape from my- 
 self, and went early to bed. There, I knew, I should find 
 a certain balm for all moral abrasions. With each article 
 of clothing I laid aside a heavy thought, and when my body 
 dipped into the air as into some delicate, ethereal fluid, 
 every material aspect of life drifted away like fragments of 
 a wreck and left me the pure sensation of existence. Then 
 I sank into my bed, as some wandering spirit might sink to 
 rest for a while, upon a denser cloud, cool with dew, yet 
 warm with rosy sunshine. Every joint and muscle fell into 
 lack, exquisite repose, or, if sometimes a limb stretched
 
 186 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 itself forth with an exploring impulse, it was simply to en 
 joy more fully the consciousness of its freedorr. Mj 
 breast grew light and my heart beat with an even, velvety 
 *hrob ; the restless thoughts laid themselves, one by one 
 to sleep, and gentle, radiant fancies whispereu from the pil- 
 low. In that sensation lay for me almost the only pure and 
 perfect blending of body and spirit ; their natural enmity 
 forgotten, their wavering bounds of rule softly obliterated, 
 they clasped each other in a brief embrace of love. 
 
 Wretched, thrice wretched is the man whose bed has 
 ceased to be a blessing whose pillow no longer seems, 
 while his. eyes close with a murmured word of prayer, the 
 ami of God, tenderly upholding his head during the help- 
 lessness of Sleep ! 
 
 In the morning, I put on a portion of my trouble with 
 my clothes. I was yet without a moral disinfectant, and the 
 rustling of the manuscripts in my pocket brought back some 
 of yesterday's disappointment I had no intention, how- 
 ever, of giving up the struggle ; it had become a sort of 
 conscience with me to perform what I had once decided 
 upon. The obligation was not measured by the importance 
 of the act I had half made up my mind to attempt a short 
 " millinery " story for " The Hesperian " ; but even if this 
 should fail, there were other literary papers and periodicals 
 in the city. My interview with the music-dealer had left a 
 more agreeable impression than that with Mr. Jenks. Gen- 
 eralizing from single experiences, as a young man is apt to 
 do, I suspected that publishers of songs were a more cour 
 teous and refined class of men than publishers of maga- 
 zines. I would therefore first exhaust this class of chances. 
 
 After some search, I discovered another music-store, in 
 the lower part of Broadway. There was a guitar in the 
 window, instead of banjos, and the title-pages represented 
 young ladies gazing on the moon, bunches of forget-me- 
 nots, and affectionate pairs in crimson gondolas. This 
 looked promising, and I entered with u bold -tf}>. On
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 18? 
 
 either side ran a counter, heaped with squares of music 
 sheets, but nobody was in attendance. Beyond this, an 
 open space, in which pianos stood, and there I saw two gen- 
 tlemen, one seated and playing a lively air, the other stand 
 ing near him. As I advanced towards them, the forme> 
 looked up from his performance, addressed me in a sharp, 
 shrill voice, with u Wait a minute, sir ! " and went on 
 playing. 
 
 I leaned against the end of the counter, and heard what 
 followed. 
 
 " This is the way it should be played," said the performer, 
 " quite a different movement, you see, from yours. I '11 
 sing two or three lines, to show you what I mean." 
 
 Thereupon, clearing his throat, he sang, with a voice 
 somewhat cracked and husky, 
 
 " When I-ee am dying, the angels will come 
 On swift wings a-flying, to carry me home." 
 
 " There ! " he continued, " that 's about the time I want, out 
 I see you have n't enough syllables for the notes. I had 
 to say ' a-flying ' to stretch the line out. There 's another 
 wanted in the first, after ' when.' I '11 put in another ' when, 
 and you '11 see how much better it will go, and faster. 
 
 " ' Whenwhen I am dying, the angels will come ' " 
 
 " If you please," said the other gentleman, who, I now 
 saw, was a young, fresh-faced, attractive person, " I will 
 jhow how I meant the song to be sung." 
 
 He took his seat at the piano, and, with a weak but clear 
 and tuneful voice, sang the same lines, but much more 
 slowly and with a different accentuation. 
 
 " Oh, thai won't do, that will never do ! " exclaimed the 
 first, almost pushing him from the stool. " It would n't be 
 popular at all ; it 's quite doleful. More spirit, Mr. Swans- 
 ford! Listen again, you must see that my idea is the 
 best, only you should change the words and have just us
 
 188 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 many syllables as notes." Thereupon he sang, to a gallop 
 ing accompaniment, faster than ever, 
 
 " Whemvhen I am dying, the angelswillcome 
 On swift wingswings flying, to carrymehome." 
 
 The young man looked dejected, and I could see that he 
 was not in the least convinced. " If you insist upon having 
 it so, Mr. Kettlewell," said he, " I must rewrite the music." 
 
 " I have nothing against the music, Mr. Swansford," said 
 the publisher, as I now conjectured him to be; "it's only 
 the time. You might, perhaps, put a little more brilliant 
 fingering in the accompaniment, it would be more pop- 
 ular. The more showy music is, the better it sells. Think 
 over the matter, while I attend to this gentleman." 
 
 He rose from the piano and came towards me. He was 
 a small man, with lively gray eyes, a hooked nose, and a 
 shrivelled throat " Business " was written upon his face 
 no less distinctly than on that of Mr. Jenks, though in dif- 
 ferent hieroglyphics. He was easier to encounter, but, I 
 feared, more difficult to move. I told him in a few words 
 what I wanted, and offered him my lyrics for inspection. 
 They began already to seem a little battered in my eyes ; 
 they were no longer wild-flowers, fresh with dew, but wilted 
 vegetables in a market-basket. 
 
 " Hm hm," said he, " the words are good in their way, 
 though it is n't much matter about their^, if the subject is 
 popular and the air is taking. I don't often do this sort of 
 thing, Mr.?" 
 
 " Godfrey," I remarked. 
 
 "Ah, Mr. Godfrey. The name seems familiar. What 
 songs of yours are in circulation ? " 
 
 I was obliged to confess that none of my effusions had 
 yet been sung. Always detected as a beginner ! It is very 
 likely that, for a single second, I may have felt a tempta- 
 tion to lie. 
 
 " That makes a difference," he said. " It 's risky Bui
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 189 
 
 If you 11 leave them, 1 11 show them to my composer, and 
 see what he thinks. How much a piece do you want for 
 them ? I always like to know terms in advance." 
 
 Thankful not to have received a downright rebuff, I in- 
 formed him that I was ignorant of the usual remuneration, 
 but would be satisfied with whatever he should think them 
 worth. 
 
 " Well," he observed, " I mostly get common, sentimental 
 songs for a dollar. There 's Spenser G. Bryan, to be sure, 
 he has five dollars, but then his songs are always fashion 
 able, and the sale makes up the difference to me. You 
 could n't expect to compete with a Spenser G. Bryan, so I 
 suppose a dollar would be about the right thing." 
 
 As he paused, awaiting an answer, I modestly signified 
 my assent, although the sum seemed to me terribly insig- 
 nificant. At that rate I should have to write three hun- 
 dred and sixty -five songs in a year, in order barely to live ! 
 After being notified that I might call again in eight or ten 
 days, to learn the composer's decision, I took leave of Mr 
 Kettlewell. 
 
 This transaction gave me at least a momentary courage- 
 It promised to be a stepping-stone, if of the smallest and 
 most slippery character. There was also this pitiful conso- 
 lation, that I was not the only aspiring young author, 
 struggling to rise out of obscurity. I could not doubt that 
 the young man Mr. Swansford had come on an errand 
 similar to mine. He was perhaps a little further advanced 
 had commenced his career, but not as yet emerged from 
 its first obstructions. I longed to make his acquaintance, 
 and therefore lingered near the place. In a few minutes 
 he issued from the store, with a roll of paper in his hand. 
 His head was bent, and his whole air expressed discourage- 
 ment : one hand crushed the paper it grasped, while the 
 other was clenched, as it hung by his side. 
 
 Presently he seemed to become magnetically aware of 
 my gaze, and looked up. I noticed now, that his skin was
 
 190 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 quite transparent, and there were dark shades under hi? 
 eyes. He wore a very silky moustache, and had a soft, 
 straggling tuft on his chin ; yet, even with these masculine 
 indications, his face was delicate as a young girl's. I recog 
 nized a kinship of some sort between us, and, fancying that 
 I read a similar recognition in his eyes, I said to him, with- 
 out further prelude, 
 
 " You sang the song correctly." 
 
 " Did I not ? " he exclaimed. " You heard how he butch- 
 ered it ; was ever anything so stupid and so profane ? 
 But he won't hear of anything else ; I must change it. 
 You offered him songs, too, I noticed. Do you compose ? " 
 
 " Only words not music." 
 
 " Then you can only half understand what I must put up 
 with. You see I always write the melody first : it 's more 
 to me than the poetry. If I knew a poet who understood 
 music, and could give its sentiment truly in words, I should 
 not try to write them myself." 
 
 " I wish you had seen the songs I just left with your pub- 
 lisher ! " I eagerly exclaimed. " But I have others in my 
 trunk. Will you come to my room and look over them, 
 Mr. Swansford ? " 
 
 He accepted the invitation, and in the course of an hour 
 or two we became very well acquainted indeed. We inter- 
 changed biographies, and were delighted to find here and 
 there a point of resemblance. He was a native of a small 
 town in Connecticut, where his parents persons of lim- 
 ited means still lived. He had already been a year in 
 the city, studying music on a ftmd derived from his moder- 
 ate savings as teacher of a singing-class at home. He was 
 four or five years older than myself, and thus possessed a 
 little more experience of the ways of the world ; but he 
 never had, and never would, overcome his distaste for the 
 hard, practical materialism which he encountered on every 
 side. A few of his songs had been published, and had 
 attained a moderate success, without bringing him much
 
 TGHtf GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 191 
 
 remuneration. He was now far enough advanced in his mu- 
 sical studies, however, to give lessons, and should rely upon 
 them for support while elaborating his great musical designs. 
 I dimly felt, in the course of our conversation, the presence 
 of a purer and loftier ideal than my own. The first half- 
 unconscious contrast of our natures presented him sublimed 
 and etherealized beside the sensuous love of Beauty which 
 was my strongest characteristic. 
 
 We parted on good terms with each other almost as 
 friends. That evening I returned his visit, at his boarding- 
 house in the triangular region between the Bowery and East 
 Broadway. He had an attic room, with a dormer-window 
 looking out on a realm of narrow back-yards, divided by 
 board-walls, which had received such a nap from the weather 
 that they resembled felt rather than wood. A bed, cottage- 
 piano, and chest of drawers so filled up the room that there 
 was barely space for a little table squeezed into the hollow 
 of the window, and two chairs. He had no stove, and could 
 only obtain a partial warmth in winter by leaving his door 
 open to catch the atmosphere from below. Above his bed 
 hung lithographic heads of Mendelssohn and Beethoven. 
 Poor and starved as \vas the aspect of the room, there 
 was nevertheless something attractive in Its atmosphere. 
 It was not beautiful by day. but was admirably adapted 
 to the inidniirht isolation of irenius.
 
 191 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 COHCERNING MY ENTRANCE INTO MRS. VERY's BOARDllf Jh 
 HOUSE, AND VARIOUS OTHER MATTERS. 
 
 MY acquaintance with Swansford, at that period of my 
 fortunes, was a piece of good luck for which I have ever 
 since been thankful. I derived a certain sort of consolation 
 selfish, no doubt, but very natural from the knowledge 
 that his circumstances were scarcely better than my own. 
 his future equally uncertain. Without a friendly acquaint- 
 ance, whose respect I desired to retain, I should probably 
 have succumbed to the repeated rebuffs I experienced, ana 
 given up my chosen career in despair. The thought of 
 Amanda was a powerful stimulant, it was true, but the 
 breadth of New Jersey divided her from me. Here, how- 
 ever, was an ever-present eye which must not be allowed to 
 discover my flagging courage. I must make good to him 
 my first boast, and counterfeit a certain amount of energy, 
 until the force of habit transformed it into the genuine 
 article. The efforts I made were not without their results 
 in my nature, and, since I have come to understand myself 
 better, I am reconciled to that mixture of pride and vanity 
 to which I can now trace so many of my actions. 
 
 During the succeeding week I made many additional 
 liiuls, persevering after each failure, finally, from a curi- 
 osity to assure myself that my original plans were indeed 
 futile. One or two literary editors accepted a poem from 
 me as an unpaid contribution, but no one was willing to 
 purchase. My only prospect of earning a trifle dwindled 
 down to the short ' milhuery " story, which I completed
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 193 
 
 and carried to Mr. Jenks, who promised to read it " in the 
 course of the week." Mr. Kettlewell's composer had no 
 objections to make in regard to the songs submitted to his 
 inspection : they were smooth and sentimental, he said, and 
 if he had time, he might marry some of them to his im- 
 mortal music ; but he was now busily engaged in preparing 
 two new quadrilles and a polka. 
 
 I confided these experiences to Swansford, who did not 
 seem to be in the least surprised ; so I, also, pretended to 
 take them as a matter of course. Meai while, my little 
 stock of money was beginning to go, and prudence advised 
 me to enter upon a more economical mode of living. About 
 this time the front attic in Swansford's boarding-house be- 
 came vacant, and I considered myself fortunate in being 
 able to secure it, with board, for three dollars and a half 
 per week. Swansford took me down to a dark parlor on 
 the first floor, and summoned Mrs. Very, who kept the 
 establishment. It was a splendid apartment ; the carpet- 
 pattern was of immense size, and the furniture real ma- 
 hogany and horse-hair. I was obliged to wait some time 
 before the appearance of Mrs. Very, a tall, middle-aged 
 lady with an aquiline nose. A cap with crimson ribbons 
 and streamers was thrown upon her head, concealing to 
 some extent the frowziness of her hair, and a heavy velvet 
 cape on her shoulders was so confused in its fastenings that 
 one side was an inch higher than the other. In the dim 
 atmosphere, nevertheless, she was rather an imposing 
 presence and suggested to me at once the idea of an 
 unfortunate duchess. 
 
 Swansford performed the ceremony of introduction, 
 stating my wish to become the occupant of the vacant 
 room. The lady bent her piercing eyes upon me and took 
 a silent survey of my form. 
 
 " I have not given out the room yet," she remarked. 
 u Miss Dunlap spoke to me of her cousin wanting it, but 
 I did n't promise positive. I wish to form an agreeable 
 13
 
 194 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 family, and would rather be vacant for a week or two than 
 have them that don't seem rightly to belong to our domestic 
 circle. There are now three ladies and two gentlemen, 
 you know, Mr. Swansford ; so it would seem proper for me 
 to take another gentleman. Mr. Godfrey, I suppose, would 
 not be likely to have lots of visitors till midnight or two 
 o'clock in the morning ? " 
 
 " Oh, no ! " I exclaimed. " I scarcely know anybody in 
 New York except Mr. Swansford." 
 
 " That would be a recommendation," Mrs. Very reflect- 
 ing ly observed. " Mr. and Mrs. Mortimer having the room 
 under you ; they 're the oldest members of my family and 
 stand by me faithful. Them that know me generally do. 
 Our circle is the best in Hester Street, and I often have 
 competition for my vacancies. I 'm mostly full, all summer, 
 when other people, who are not particular as to genteel 
 boarders, are half empty." 
 
 Mrs. Very finally informed me that she would make up 
 her mind that evening, and dismissed us with a stately 
 salutation. I should have gone away in great doubt, had 
 not Swansford whispered to me, at the door, " That 'a 
 always her way of talking. She has taken you already." 
 
 This proved to be the case. The next morning one of 
 Lovejoy's porters followed me up Chatham Street with my 
 trunk, and I took possession of the coveted attic. Mrs. 
 Very's residence was a narrow three-story house of brick, 
 with wooden steps and a small platform before the door. 
 This was called " the stoop." The house was two or three 
 blocks removed from the noise of the Bowery, and its neigh- 
 borhood wore an aspect both of quiet and decay. The 
 street was rarely cleaned, and its atmosphere was generally 
 flavored with Ihe smells arising from boxes of ashes and 
 kitchen-refuse which stood on the sidewalks awaiting re- 
 moval. Most pf the houses were only of two stories, some 
 of them of wood, and Mrs. Very's thus received a certain 
 distinction. Whether or not. the hall was swept, the brass
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 19fi 
 
 plate on the door, with her name, was always brightly 
 scoured. Not far off, on th^e opposite side of the street 
 there was a blind alley, leading to some hidden cluster of 
 tenements, whence issued swarms of dirty, ragged, and sav- 
 age children. 
 
 The room to which I was conducted was almost a fac- 
 simile of Swanford's. It commanded a view of the oppo- 
 site side of the street, and overlooked the mysteries of sev- 
 eral second floors. The absence of a piano made it seem 
 more spacious ; its appointments, such as they were, were 
 complete ; and, indeed, I was not so accustomed to lux- 
 ury as to find the least fault with them. The wall was 
 papered gray, with a large blue pattern, and there was a 
 faded and frayed ingrain carpet on the floor. A very small 
 stand of pine-wood, with a drawer for soap, held the wash- 
 bowl and pitcher ; the thin little towel was suspended from 
 a nail I had, further, an old chest with three drawers, sur- 
 mounted by a square foot of mirror, and, as Swansford had 
 dropped a hint that I was a young man of literary habite, 
 Mrs. Very considerately added a little table, with one 
 shrunk leg, which I steadied by means of folded newspa- 
 pers. The bed was smaller and harder than any I had be- 
 fore occupied. The change from the spacious beds of 
 Berks County was like that from a pond to a bath-tub, and 
 I could no longer stretch myself in all directions with im- 
 punity. It was symbolic of the contraction which my hopes 
 and my plans had suffered. 
 
 Swansford had obtained two or three pupils, at moderate 
 terms, in the vicinity, and these, with his own studies, kept 
 him employed the greater part of the day ; but I had _oth- 
 ing to do except write and keep my eyes open for any Chance 
 that might turn up. When we met for dinner at five 
 o'clock, which hour had been chosen by Mrs. Very, as 
 she informed me, on account of Mr. Mortimer, who was as- 
 sistant teller in one of the Bowery Banks, I was formally 
 presented to my fellow-boarders. Mr. Mortimer was a
 
 196 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 grave, middle-sized man of forty, whose authority in that 
 genteel circle was evidently only less than the landlady's. 
 The outward projection of his right ear-flap, and a horizontal 
 groove in his short hair, showed that the pen had grown to 
 be a member of his body. His wife, a lady some five years 
 younger, was taller than himself, though in dignity of de 
 portment she harmonized fully. Her neck was a very stiff 
 prolongation of her spine, and she had a way of bending 
 her head the least in the world when she spoke to you, as 
 much as to say, " I will subdue my feelings and condescend 
 to speak." She was always dressed in dark silk, and her 
 skirts rustled a great deal. Even in my attic, whenever I 
 heard a shrill, sweeping noise, like the wind through a dead 
 thorn-bush, I knew that Mrs. Mortimer was passing up or 
 down-stairs. 
 
 The two remaining ladies were Miss Tatting, and her 
 niece, Miss Dunlap. The former kept a trimming-store in 
 Grand Street, in which the latter officiated as her assistant. 
 There was less difference between the ages of the ladies 
 than their relationship would indicate. It was difficult, in 
 fact, to decide upon this question, especially in the case of 
 the former ; she might have been twenty-five and old-look- 
 ing, or carrying forty summers with an air of youth. The 
 necessity of unbending to her customers had given her an 
 easy, familiar manner, which seemed occasionally to shock 
 the delicate sensibilities of Mrs. Mortimer. Though com- 
 paratively uncultivated, she had a good deal of natural 
 shrewdness, and was well skilled in the use of her tongue. 
 Her niece was cast in a similar yet softer mould. A vein 
 of sentiment, somewhat weak and faded now, to be sure, 
 ran through her composition. But she was an amiable 
 creature, and I have not the heart to dwell upon this little 
 weakness, even if it had been more grotesquely developed. 
 
 When Mrs. Very took her seat at the head of the table 
 (Mr. Mortimer facing her at the foot), her face was still 
 flushed from her superintendence in the kitchen, but her
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES 197 
 
 hair had been rapidly compelled to order, a silk cape waj 
 substituted for the velvet one, and correctly fastened. A 
 small black girl stood at her elbow. 
 
 No grace was said, although the landlady waited until 
 Mr. and Mrs. Mortimer had lifted their eyes from their 
 plates. Then she questioned each of us in turn. " Shall T 
 send you some of the soup to-day ? " After the soup. Mi . 
 Mortimer carved a piece of roast-beef, while Mrs. Very ad- 
 dressed herself to a diminutive remainder of cold ham. 
 Potatoes, turnips, and spinage boiled in an uncut, tangled 
 mass, completed the repast 
 
 Conversation rose as appetite declined, and after various 
 commonplaces had been discussed, Mrs, Very suddenly ex 
 claimed, " Who do you think I met, coming home from 
 market, Mrs. Mortimer ? " 
 
 The lady addressed slightly curved her neck and an- 
 swered, in the mild voice of propriety, u I 'm sure I don't 
 know." 
 
 " Her ! " 
 
 " Indeed ! " said Mrs. Mortimer. 
 
 " You don't mean Mrs. Gamble, now, do you ? " asked 
 Miss Tatting, suspending her fork in the air. 
 
 " Mrs. Gamble ! " echoed Mrs. Very, with an air of tri 
 umph. "They were walking together, and there was nc 
 mistaking her at once. She seems to carry her head high 
 enough, for all the trouble, and I should n't wonder if 
 they 'd cave in, though they have said he should never 
 darken their doors. I 've asked them to come around to 
 tea some evening." 
 
 " Will they come ? " all three of the ladies exclaimed at 
 once. 
 
 " They promised positive they would, but could n't name 
 the day certain. He does n't look a bit down about it, I 
 (mist say. Perhaps they '11 come round when they find it 
 only hurts themselves. I was in such a hurry that I could 
 n't ask many questions."
 
 198 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 This theme was pursued by Mrs. Vary's domestic circle 
 frith lively interest I gradually discovered that Mr. Gam- 
 ble was my own predecessor in the attic room, and at the 
 genteel board where I now sat. 
 
 The occasion of his leaving was his marriage with the 
 daughter of a prosperous shoe-dealer, who was opposed to 
 the match on account of Mr. Gamble being only clerk for 
 a soap-boiling firm. The young lady, however, had a will 
 of her own, and boldly married, in defiance of her par- 
 ents. She had not returned home after the ceremony, but 
 sent for her wardrobe, which the angry father refused to 
 give up. The happy couple made a short wedding-trip to 
 the bridegroom's relatives in the country, and were just re- 
 turning to the city when Mrs. Very was so fortunate as to 
 intercept them. Of course, everybody at the table espoused 
 the cause of Mr. and Mrs. Gamble, the former being still 
 claimed as a member of the family. It was well known 
 that he would have remained, but for the lack of proper 
 accommodations, and I fancy Mrs. Mortimer would have 
 willingly seen a vacancy made for the romantic pair, by the 
 removal of Miss Tatting and her niece. 
 
 By the time our dessert of rice-pudding was reached, this 
 topic had been quite exhausted, and the conversation be- 
 came mixed and lively. I talked across the table to Swans- 
 ford about a story which had just appeared in one of the 
 Philadelphia magazines, while Mrs. Very's and Mr. Morti- 
 mer's remarks crossed ours at right angles. Miss Dunlap 
 listened to us, and her aunt was occupied with the stately 
 Mrs. Mortimer, apparently on the mysteries of dress, for I 
 caught such phrases as " a great demand for chenilles.' 
 " corn-color coming up again," etc. etc. 
 
 The same scene repeated itself every day with slight 
 variations. We had veal sometimes, instead of beef, and 
 tapioca instead of rice. Mrs. Mortimer walked in Broad- 
 way, and often found subjects for short, decorous, conde- 
 scending narratives. Swansford was questioned about hia
 
 JOHN' GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 199 
 
 musical compositions, and variously advised, Miss Dunlap 
 hoping that he would write an opera, while Mrs. Mortimer 
 thought an oratorio would be much more elevated. The 
 boarding-houses of Bevins and Applegate, in the same street, 
 were discussed with acrid satire, in which Mrs. Very heart- 
 ily joined. In short, the latter's effort to create a harmo- 
 nious domestic circle was entirely successful, so far as the 
 satisfaction of the members with themselves was concerned. 
 
 I had been an inmate of the house about a week when I 
 achieved my first success. Mr. Jenks, after postponing his 
 decision and keeping me on thorns for three days longer, 
 finally made up his mind to accept my millinery story, with 
 the proviso that I changed the denouement, and instead of an 
 elopement reconciled lanthe's parents to the match. " The 
 Hesperian," he said, was a family magazine, and designed to 
 contain nothing which could plant an unconventional or 
 rebellious thought in the breast of infancy. There had 
 been several elopements in the previous stories, and he had 
 already heard complaints. The article was pleasantly writ 
 ten, and he thought I might succeed in that line, provided 
 I took care to " give a moral turn " to my sketches. What 
 could I do ? Swansford's experience with Kettlewell now 
 came home to me with a vengeance, but I grinned (I am 
 afraid I came very near cursing) and endured. For the 
 story thus mutilated I was to receive five dollars after its 
 appearance. I immediately commenced another story, in 
 which the characters were absolute angels and devils, wind- 
 ing up by assigning the former to Paradise and the latter 
 to Hades The moral of that, I thought, would be plain 
 enough. 
 
 I now wrote a page to Dan Yule, stating that I was well 
 and hoped he was, with a few little particulars of my life, 
 which I thought would interest him. Inclosed was a letter 
 of sixteen pages for Amanda, in which the joys of love, 
 the sorrows of absence, and the longings for that assured 
 future which would bring us together again, were mixed in
 
 200 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 equal proportions. I know that my mind, released irora 
 the restraints imposed by publishers of moral and millinery 
 tales, poured itself out freely and delightedly to the one 
 ear which would hear me aright It was my first letter, 
 and I doubt whether her joy in receiving it was greatei 
 than mine in writing it 
 
 Swansford knew nothing, as yet, of my attachment. Al 
 though we had become earnest friends, I could not open to 
 hiir. this chamber of my heart Our talk was mostly ujion 
 our " kindred arts," as we styled them. I was even more 
 desirous than he to supply the words for his own melodies, 
 and we made, one day, a double experiment I gave him 
 my last and, of course, sweetest song, taking in return a 
 pensive, plaintive air which he had just written, and sel 
 myself to express it in words as he mine in music. The 
 result was only partially satisfactory. I reproduced, toler- 
 ably, the sentiment of the air, but I was ignorant of the 
 delicate affinity between certain vowel sounds and certain 
 musical notes whence, though my lines were better than 
 Swansford's, they were not half so easy to sing. This dis- 
 covery led to a long conversation and an examination 01 
 the productions of various popular song-writers, the result 
 of which was an astonishing conviction of my own igno- 
 rance. 
 
 I should have enjoyed this vagabond life thoroughly, 
 nevertheless, but for the necessity which impelled me to 
 secure some sort of provision for the future. I saw no way 
 of reaching the Olympian society of the celebrated authors, 
 or in otherwise dragging myself out of the double insignifi- 
 cance (compared with my position in Upper Samaria) into 
 which I had fallen. Week after week went by, yielding 
 me nothing but an accumulation of manuscripts. I was 
 obliged to procure a few better articles of clothing than I 
 had brought with me. and this made a great hole in my 
 rands. Indeed, with strict economy, they would barely last 
 another month. Many a night I lay awake, revolving plans
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 20] 
 
 wrhich brightened and grew rosy with the excitement of my 
 Drain ; but, when morning came, the color had faded out 
 of them, and they seemed the essence of absurdity. 
 
 I was not devoid of practical faculties, but they had hith- 
 erto lain dormant, or been suppressed by the activity of the 
 tastes and desires first awakened. I now began to find a 
 wide vibration in my nature, between the moods of night 
 and day ; but their reciprocal action hastened my develop- 
 ment Still, I was at heart a boy, and troubled with a boy's 
 restless impatience. I had no suspicion of the many and 
 the inevitable throes which men as well as planets nus( 
 endure, before chaos is resolved into form.
 
 202 JOHN GODFREY'S FORT ONES. 
 
 CHAPTER XVL 
 
 DESCRIBING MR. WINCH'S RECONCILIATION BALL AND 1W 
 TWO FORTUNATE CONSEQUENCES. 
 
 A FORTNIGHT after my introduction into Mrs. Very's do- 
 mestic circle, Mr. and Mrs. Gamble redeemed their prom- 
 ise of coming to tea. The important event was announced 
 at dinner on the previous day, and little else was spoken 
 of until the appointed evening came. Mrs. Very informed 
 us, with a solemn air, that we should assemble in the parlor 
 instead of the basement dining-room : Mr. Gamble, as a 
 member of her family, should be treated just as well as 
 if he were her own brother (" son," I thought, would have 
 been more appropriate), and the Winches should see what 
 her behavior was, as compared with theirs. They might 
 hurt her, if they liked : thank Fortune, her house was well- 
 known, and her boarders stood by her faithful. 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Mortimer, with becoming gravity, " we 
 must give Gamble a lift, now he 's in trouble. Old Winch 
 keeps his deposits in our bank, but I won't let that stand 
 between me and what 's right" 
 
 Mrs. Mortimer bent her stiff neck assentingly. 
 
 We were all seated in the parlor when the bell rang. 
 Mrs, Very triumphantly issued into the hall and received 
 the interesting couple, while we waited in silent expecta- 
 tion until the usual rustling up and down stairs should an 
 nounce that the bride had adjusted her toilette. Then she 
 entered, dark, full, and voluptuous in her form, and resplen- 
 dent in a dead golden-colored silk. Mr. Gamble, besidt 
 her, dwindled into a very commonplace individual, as he
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 208 
 
 -..7 doubt was. He was cordially, if somewhat stiffly, con- 
 gratulated for the Very idea of gentility was too con- 
 scious of itself to be easy by his old friends, and the 
 bride received the same with an added tint of gracious 
 deference. She, however, understood the interest of her 
 position, and determined to enjoy it. 
 
 " Oh, I have heard of you all, from Harry ! " she ex 
 claimed, shaking hands with everybody, even myself, to 
 whom she said, " So, you have fallen heir to his room ! 
 Don't you let him in, if he ever repents of his bargain a^d 
 wants to come back ! " 
 
 Then she cast a loving, mischievous glance at her hus- 
 band, who was radiant with pride at the gay fascination of 
 her manner. " Now you see, Laura, from what company 
 you have taken me away," he said, with a semicircular 
 bow which embraced Mrs. Very, Mrs. Mortimer, and Miss 
 Tatting. " It was a hard struggle, I assure you." And he 
 heaved a mock sigh. 
 
 " You can't make us believe that," said Miss Tatting, 
 tapping him on the arm with a large green fan. 
 
 This is a fair specimen of the conversation during tea. 
 It was not very intellectual, I admit, but it was quite a 
 pleasant and entertaining change from our usual routine, 
 and I enjoyed it amazingly. Mrs. Gamble was the life of 
 the company. Being privileged to give the tone of the 
 evening, she did so with a will, and it was astonishing how 
 much fun and laughter we produced from the most trifling 
 themes. After her departure we were all loud in our ex- 
 pressions of admiration. It was decided, without a dissent 
 ing voice, that Mrs. Very's family circle would henceforth 
 espouse the cause of the Gambles against the Winches. 
 
 About the middle of May, however, we were surprised by 
 a rumor that the unnatural father had been led, either by 
 policy or penitence, to relent, and that Mr. Gamble would 
 shortly give up his situation in the soap-boiling establish- 
 ment, to take an important post in Winch & Son's shoe-
 
 204 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 store. I know not whether Mrs. Very or the Mortimers 
 were most flattered by this news : either party was sure 
 that their countenance of the match had something to do 
 
 O 
 
 with it. The climax to the general satisfaction was given 
 by a package of notes which came, a few days afterwards, 
 stating that Mr. and Mrs. Franklin Winch requested the 
 pleasure of our company, on Thursday evening, at their 
 residence, No. 322 Columbia Street 
 
 There was no difficulty in comprehending the nature of 
 this event. Mr. Winch, having made up his mind to do 
 the proper thing, intended to do it in the proper way, 
 crushing gossip and family estrangement with the same 
 blow. The temptation to attend the ball was too great to 
 be resisted, and our inveterate hostility to the Winches 
 came therefore to a sudden end. 
 
 When the evening arrived, we marched across the Grand- 
 Street region, like a well-ordered family, Mrs. Very taking 
 Mr. Mortimer's other arm, Miss Tatting Swansford's, and 
 Miss Dunlap mine. A waiter, hi white cotton gloves, whom 
 I at first took for Winch junior, received us at the door, 
 and ushered us up-stairs to our respective dressing-rooms. 
 Here were various other gentlemen, giving the finishing 
 touch to their scented and glistening hair, and drawing on 
 their new white kids. I imitated their movements, and 
 tried my best to appear at ease and au fait to such occa- 
 sions. When we descended to the parlor, Mr. Gamble 
 came forward at once to greet us, and presented us with a 
 respectful flourish to the obdurate Winch pere, who looked 
 imposing in his blue coat with gilt buttons, buff Marseilles 
 vest, and high white cravat Mrs. Winch, dark, like her 
 daughter, but shrivelled, which the latter was not, stood 
 beside her lord, in black satin, evidently as happy as sh* 1 
 could well be. The reconciliation, in fact, was supposed to 
 be mainly her work. 
 
 We, as the son-in-law's friends, received conspicuous at- 
 tention. Mrs. Gamble welcomed us like oM acquaintance*
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 205 
 
 And glided hither and thither with a lazy grace, ts she 
 strove to stir up and blend us with the other social ele- 
 ments of wlu'ch the party was composed. This was not 
 difficult in the case of my companions, and I resolved, in 
 my ignorance of New York habits, to imitate them hi ev- 
 erything. Accordingly, when Mrs. Gamble asked me if I 
 should not like to be introduced to a young lady " of a lit- 
 erary turn," in whom I might discover " a congenial spirit," 
 1 acquiesced with enthusiasm, and soon found myself seated 
 beside Miss Levi, a remarkable girl, with very black hair 
 and eyebrows, and a prominent nose. Her forehead was 
 so low. that, at a distance, it looked like a white stripe over 
 her eyebrows. She wore a dress which not merely showed 
 her shoulders, but the upper undulations of her bosom, so 
 that, whenever she bent forward, my gaze fell into a won- 
 derful twilight region, which caused me to blush with the 
 sense of having committed an impropriety. 
 
 " Mrs. Gamble tells me you are a poet, Mr. Godfrey," 
 she said. (How had Mrs. Gamble learned that so soon ? ) 
 
 " Oh, I write a little," I modestly answered. 
 
 '" How charming ! I doat on poetry. Won't you repeat 
 to me some of yours ? " 
 
 I was rather taken aback at this proposition, but, taking 
 it for granted that Miss Levi knew the ways of society 
 better than myself, I repeated to her, in a low voice, and 
 with some confusion, the last song I had written. 
 
 " It is beautiful ! " she exclaimed, fixing her large, jet- 
 black eyes upon me with a power I could scarcely endure 
 to meet. " Beautiful ! You must have been inspired 
 does she live in the city ? " 
 
 " Who ? " I asked, feeling that my face sufficiently be- 
 trayed me. 
 
 " How can you ask ' who ? ' Mr. Godfrey ? Ah, yon 
 poets are a sad class of men. I "m afraid you are all incon 
 tant ; tell me, do you think you can be faithful to her ? " 
 
 Some imp prompted me to reply, ' I never had EDJ 
 doubt of it before this evening."
 
 806 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Godfrey ! " she exclaimed, " that is too bad 
 Now I know you are not in earnest" But she looked at 
 me very much as if she would like me to insist that I was 
 I could not carry the farce any further, so endeavored to 
 change the subject by asking, " Do you write, Miss Levi ? " 
 
 " I ought not to tell you," she answered ; " but I can 
 
 Our talk was here interrupted, probably on the brink of 
 sweet intellectual disclosures, by the sound*of the piano. 
 It was Swansford, whom Mrs. Gamble had persuaded to 
 favor the company with one of his compositions. He gave, 
 to my surprise, the very song I had just repeated to Miss 
 Levi, with a tender and beautiful melody of his own. This 
 generosity touched me, for generosity it really was, when 
 he might have sung his own words. He looked towards 
 me and smiled, at the close, seeing my gratitude in my 
 eyes. 
 
 Shortly afterwards I was released from Miss Levi, who 
 took Swansford's place, and sang, " You '11 Remember Me," 
 in a piercing voice. Various songs of the same class fol- 
 lowed, and, even with my own uncultured taste, I could 
 easily understand the look of distress on Swansford's face. 
 
 The double parlor was crowded, and it was not long be- 
 fore the songs gave way to the music of two violins and a 
 harp, stationed under Mr. Winch's portrait, between the 
 front windows. The carpets had been taken up, so that 
 everybody expected dancing. Having a slight familiarity 
 with quadrilles, from the " gatherings " in Upper Samaria, 
 I secured Miss Dunlap, as the partner with whom I should 
 be least embarrassed, and, after that, was kept well supplied 
 through the efforts of the Gambles and young Winch. 
 When the waltz came, I withdrew to a corner and watched 
 the softly whirling pairs, conspicuous among whom were 
 the hero and heroine of the evening. It was delightful to 
 see the yielding grace with which she trusted herself to his 
 arm, drifting like a swan on the eddies of a stream, while
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 207 
 
 her hands lay clasped on his shoulder, and her large, dark 
 eyes lifted themselves to his. Happy pair ! If I were he, 
 and she were Amanda ! but I ground the thought between 
 uiy teeth, and stifled the impatience of my heart. 
 
 Towards midnight we marched down to a room in the 
 basement, where a superb supper was arranged. Mrs. Very 
 supposed that it must have cost fifty dollars, and she was 
 capable of forming an opinion. There were oysters, salads, 
 pates, jellies, brandy-peaches, and bon-bons, with tea, coffee, 
 ices, an ! champagne. I now discovered that I had a natural 
 taste for these luxuries, and was glad to see that Swansford 
 partook of them with a relish equal to my own. The iced 
 champagne, which I had never before tasted, seemed to me 
 the nectar of the gods. Young Winch filled my glass as 
 often as it was emptied, for a few short, jolly speeches were 
 made and a great many toasts drunk. The ladies filtered 
 away before we knew it, and we were first aroused from oui 
 delightful revelry by Mr. Mortimer, who came, hat in hand, 
 to announce that the Misses Tatting and Dunlap were wait- 
 ing for us. 
 
 On the way home I confided to the latter my interview 
 with Miss Levi, and had it on my tongue's end to tell bei 
 about Amanda, I longed to pour out my heart to a sympa- 
 thizing ear, and would probably have done it, had Hester 
 Street been a little farther off. 
 
 On reaching the attic I went into Swansford's room for 
 a little chat, before going to bed. He was highly excited. 
 He looked up at the lithographs of Mendelssohn and Beet- 
 hoven, shook his fist, and cried, " Oh, you grand old Trojans, 
 did you ever have to endure what I have ? I don't believe 
 it ! You had those around who knew what you were, and 
 what your art is, but I, see here, Godfrey ! This is the 
 insane, idiotic stuff that people go into ecstasies about." 
 
 He sat down to the piano, played a hideous, flashy accom- 
 paniment, and sang, with extravagant voice and gesture, one 
 of the sentimental songs to which we had beer treated
 
 208 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 I threw myself back on his bed, in convulsions of laiigh 
 ter. 
 
 " My words are poor enough,'' he continued, " but what 
 do you say to these : 
 
 " ' When ho-hollow hearts shall wear a mask, 
 
 'T will break your own to see-he-hee, 
 In such a mo-homent, 1 but ask 
 
 That you '11 remember that you '11 re-MEM-ber 
 you '11 re ME-HE-HEM be-e-e-r me ! ' 
 
 oh, and the young ladies turn up their eyes like ducks 
 in a thunder-storm, at that, and have no ear for the splendid 
 passion of ' Adela'ida ' ! It 's enough to make one despise 
 the human race. I could grind out such stuff by the bushel ; 
 why not take my revenge on the fools in this way ? Why 
 not give them the absurdest satire, which they shall suck 
 down as pure sentiment ? I '11 laugh at them, and they '11 
 pay me for it ! Come, Godfrey, give me some nonsense 
 which will pass for a fashionable song ; I 'm in the humor 
 for a bit of deviltry to-night" 
 
 " Agreed ! " I cried, springing from the bed. I eagerly 
 caught at the idea, for it seemed like a personal discharge 
 of my petty spite against Miss Levi. I took a pencil and 
 the back of a music-sheet, and, as sense was not material 
 to the composition, in a short time produced the follow* 
 tog: 
 
 " Away, my soul ! This withered hand 
 
 No more may sing of joy : 
 The roses redden o'er the land 
 
 Which autumn gales destroy; 
 But when my hopes shall shine as fair 
 
 As bowers beneath the hill, 
 I '11 bid the tempest hear my prayer, 
 And dream you love me still ! 
 
 " The sky is dark : no stars intrude 
 
 To bind the brow of day. 
 Oh, why should love, so wildly wooed 
 
 Refuse to turn away V 
 The lark is loud, the wind is high 
 
 And Fate must have lu-r will : 
 Ah, nought is left me but to die, 
 
 And dream you love me still 1 "
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 209 
 
 u The very thing ! " exclaimed Swansford, wiping awai 
 tears of the laughter which had twice interrupted my reading. 
 " 1 've got the melody ; give me the candle, and we '11 have 
 the whole performance." 
 
 He sang it over and over with the purest, most rollicking 
 relish introducing each time new and fantastic ornaments, 
 until the force of burlesque could no farther go. My in 
 tense enjoyment of the fun kept up his inspiration, and the 
 melody, with its preposterous accompaniment, was fairly 
 written before our merry mood began to decline. The 
 piece was entitled " A Fashionable Song," and we decided 
 that it should be offered to a publisher the very next day. 
 
 It was late when I awoke, and in the practical reaction 
 from the night's excitement I thought very little of the 
 matter until the sound of Swansford's piano recalled it. 
 He met me, smiling, as he said, " Our song is really not a 
 bad thing of its kind, though the kind is low enough. But, 
 of course, we need never be known as the authors." 
 
 He put on his hat, and went out, with the manuscript in 
 his hand. I accompanied him as far as the Park, in order 
 to make a call, to which I did not attach any particular 
 hope, (I had been too often disappointed for that !) but in 
 fulfilment of a promise. Among the new acquaintances I 
 had made at the Winch ball, was a Mr. Lettsom, who was 
 acting as a law reporter for various daily papers. In the 
 course of a little conversation which I had with him, I 
 mentioned my wish to obtain literary employment of some 
 kind, and asked whether he knew of any vacancy. He in- 
 formed me that reporting was the surest resource for a 
 young man who was obliged to earn his living by his pen. 
 Most of the prominent editors, he said, had begun life either 
 as reporters or printers, and there could be no better school 
 in which to make one's talent ready and available. 
 
 Something in Mr. Lettsom's plainness, both of face and 
 manner, inspired me with confidence in his judgment, and 
 I eagerly accepted his invitation to call upon him at tb - 
 14
 
 210 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 office of the Daily Wonder, where I hoped, at least, to heal 
 something that would put me on the right track. 
 
 I found him in the fourth story of the building, at a littlt 
 desk in the corner of a room filled with similar desks, at 
 which other gentlemen were either writing or inspecting 
 enormous files of newspapers. A large table in the centre 
 of the room was covered with maps, dictionaries, and books 
 of reference. There was not much conversation, except 
 when a man with smutty hands, a paper cap on his head, 
 and a newspaper tied around his waist, came in and said, 
 u Hurry up with that foreign news copy ! It 's time the 
 Extra was out ! " To me the scene was both strange and 
 imposing. This was the Delphic cave whence was uttered 
 the daily oracular Voice, which guided so many thousands 
 of believing brains ; these were the attendant priests, who 
 sat in the very adytum of the temple and perhaps assisted 
 in the construction of the sentences of power. 
 
 There was nothing oracular about Mr. Lettsom. With 
 his thin face, sandy eyebrows, and quiet voice, he was as 
 ordinary a man in appearance as one will meet in a day's 
 travel. He seemed, and no doubt was, incapable of enthu- 
 siasm ; but there was a mixture of frankness, kindness, and 
 simple good-sense in him which atoned for the absence of 
 any loftier faculty. I had no claim whatever upon his 
 good offices ; he scarcely knew more of me than my na m>, 
 and had only asked me to step in to him at an hour when 
 he should have^ a little leisure for talk. I was, therefore, 
 quite overcome, when, after the first greetings, he said, 
 
 " I have been making inquiries this morning, at the 
 newspaper offices. It is a pity I did not meet you sooner, 
 as the Anniversaries, when extra work is always needed, 
 we nearly over ; but there may be a chance for you here. 
 It depends upon yourself, if Mr. Clarendon, the chief edi- 
 tor of the Wonder, is satisfied to try you. An insignificant 
 post, and poorly paid, at first, but so are all beginnings^ 
 So many young men come to the city with high expecta
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 211 
 
 dons, that there would be no difficulty in getting any num- 
 ber of full-grown editors and critics, while the apprenticed 
 places are rarely in demand. I tell you this beforehand. 
 We will now call on Mr. Clarendon." 
 
 Before I could recover my breath, we were in the sacred 
 presence, in a small adjoining room. Mr. Clarendon sat at 
 a library table, which rested on a countless array of draw- 
 ers. He was writing rapidly on long, narrow slips of pa- 
 per, which he numbered and transferred from his right to 
 his left hand as they were finished. He must have heard 
 our entrance, but neither lifted his head nor noticed us in 
 any way until Mr. Lettsom announced, 
 
 " This is Mr. Godfrey, the young gentleman about whom 
 I spoke to you this morning." 
 
 " Very well, Lettsom," and the latter left the room. 
 Mr. Clarendon bowed in an abstracted way, pointed with 
 the top of his quill to a chair on the other side of the ta 
 ble, and resumed his writing. 
 
 He was a man of middle age, good presence, and with 
 an expression of penetration, shrewdness, and decision in 
 his distinctly moulded features. His head was massive and 
 finely formed ; the hair, once light-brown, was now almost 
 wholly gray, and the eyes of that rich golden-bronze tint 
 which is as beautiful as it is rare. Although his frame was 
 large, I was struck by the smallness, whiteness, and sym- 
 metry of his hand. 
 
 I took the seat indicated, and waited for him to speak 
 He wrote half of one of his slips, and then, having appar- 
 ently finished a paragraph, said, without looking up, 
 
 " So, you want to try your hand at newspaper work ? " 
 
 1 assented, stating that I was willing to perform any kind 
 of literary labor of which I might be capable. 
 
 " You have never done anything of the sort, I suppose 
 Have you ever written for publication ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "What?"
 
 212 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 The few poems and the accepted story seemed very in- 
 significant now, but they were all I had. I mentioned 
 them. 
 
 " That is hardly a recommendation," he said, resuming 
 his writing ; " rather the reverse. We want a plain style, 
 exact adherence to facts, and above all quickness. You 
 may have these qualities, nevertheless. Let us see." 
 
 He turned over a pile of newspapers at his right hand, 
 selected, almost at random, the Baltimore American, and 
 handed it to me, saying, " You will find the city-news oc 
 the third page. Look over it and tell me if you see any* 
 thing of sufficient importance to copy." 
 
 " Nothing, unless it is this ' Conflagration at Fell's 
 Point,' " I answered, after rapidly running my eye up and 
 down the columns. 
 
 " Now go to yonder table you will find pen and paper 
 there and condense this half-column account into fifteen 
 lines, giving all the material facts." 
 
 How lucky it is, I thought, as I prepared to obey, that I 
 went through such a thorough course of amplification and 
 condensation at the Honeybrook Academy ! My mind in- 
 stantly reverted to the old drill, and resumed something of 
 its mechanical dexterity. In fifteen or twenty minutes I 
 had performed the work, Mr. Clarendon, in the mean time, 
 writing steadily and silently on his narrow slips. 
 
 " It is done, sir," I said, venturing to interrupt him. 
 
 " Bring it here." 
 
 I handed him both the original article and my abbrevi- 
 ated statement. He compared them, as it seemed to me, 
 by a single glance of the eye. Such rapidity of mental ac 
 tion was little short of the miraculous. 
 
 " Fairly done, for a beginner," he then remarked. k< I 
 will try you, Mr. Godfrey. This will be the kind of work 
 I shall first give you. You will make blunders and omis- 
 sions, until you are better broken to the business. Sir 
 dollars a week is all you are worth now ; will that satisfy 
 you ? "
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 2l 
 
 Satisfy ? It was deliverance ! It was a branch of Pac 
 tolus, bursting at my feet, to bear me onward to all golder 
 possibilities ! I blundered forth both my assent and grati- 
 tude, which Mr. Clarendon, having completed his article, cut 
 short by conducting me to the larger room, where he pre- 
 sented me to one of the gentlemen whom he addressed as 
 
 O 
 
 Mr. Severn, saying, " Mr. Godfrey is to be set at condens- 
 ing the miscellaneous. He will come here at ten o'clock 
 to-morrow morning. Have an eye to him now and then/' 
 
 Mr. Severn, who had a worn and haggard look, was evi- 
 dently glad to learn that I was to relieve him of some of 
 his duties. His reception was mildly cordial, and I was a 
 little surprised that he betrayed no more curiosity to know 
 who or what I was. 
 
 Overflowing with joy at my unexpected good fortune, I 
 hastened back to Mrs. Very's to communicate the happy 
 news to Swansford. But I was obliged to control my im- 
 patience until late in the afternoon. When at last I heard 
 his step coming up the stairs, I threw open my door and 
 beckoned him in. He, too, seemed no less excited than 
 myself. Flinging his hat upon my bed, he cried out, 
 " Godfrey ! " at the same instant that I cried 
 
 " Swansford ! such news ! hurrah ! " 
 
 " Hurrah ! " he echoed, but his face fell. " Why, who 
 told you?" 
 
 " Who told me ? " I asked, in surprise ; " why, it happened 
 to me ! " 
 
 " What happened to you ? Good God ! " he exclaimed in 
 sudden alarm, " you have not gone and sold the song to 
 somebody else ? " 
 
 In the tumult of my thoughts, I had forgotten all about 
 the song. With a hearty laugh at the comical expression 
 on Swansford's face, I pushed him into, a chair and trium- 
 phantly told him my story. 
 
 " I congratulate you. Godfrey," he said, giving me his 
 baud. " This is a lucky day for both of us. I thought J
 
 214 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 should astonish you, but there 's not much chance of that 
 now, and I 'm heartily glad of it" 
 
 M What do you mean ? " 
 
 " Let me tell my story. When 1 left you at the Park 
 Gate, I started to go down to Kettle\v ell's, but, by the time 
 I had reached the Astor House, it occurred to me. that, as 
 he deals in just such sentimental songs as we have bur- 
 lesqued, I should have but a small chance of doing any- 
 thing with him. Besides, I dislike the man, although he 
 published my compositions when no one else would. So J 
 turned about and went up street to Mackintosh, who 's al 
 least a gentlemanly fellow. I produced the song, first told 
 him what it was. saw that he thought the idea a good one, 
 and then sang it as well as I could. There was another 
 
 O 
 
 gentleman in the store, and they both laughed like the 
 deuce when I wound up with the grand final cadenza. 
 Mackintosh, I think, would have taken the song, but the 
 other gentleman came up, clapped his hand on my shoulder, 
 and said, ' I must have that- I '11 buy it, out and out 
 Joe shall sing it this very night ! ' I did n't know who he 
 was, but Mackintosh then introduced him to me as Bridger, 
 of Bridger's Minstrels. ' What 's your price, copyright and 
 all ? ' he asked. Thinking it was a joke, I retorted with, 
 ' A hundred dollars.' ' Fifty,' said he. ' No, a hundred,' I 
 answered, keeping up the fun. ' Well split the differ- 
 ence. Say the word, and here 's your money.' ' Seeing 
 it 's you ' I began to say, but before I had finished there 
 were seventy-five dollars in my hand, here they are ! 
 and Bridger was writing a bill of sale, including the 
 copyright Mackintosh opened his eyes, but I pretended 
 to take the matter coolly, though I hardly knew whether T 
 was standing on my head or heels. But what a shame and 
 humiliation ! Seventy-five dollars for a burlesque to be 
 sung by Ethiopian Minstrels ! " 
 
 " There 's neither shame nor humiliation about it ! " I 
 protested. " It 's grand and glorious ! Only think, Swans- 
 ford, ten weeks' board each for an hour's work!"
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 216 
 
 u I think of years of work, and not an hour of apprecia- 
 tive recognition," said he, relapsing into sudden gloom. 
 
 But my sunshine was too powerful for his shadow. I 
 insisted on crowning this dies miraUlis with an Olympian 
 banquet in the best oyster-cellar of the Bowery, and car- 
 ried my point. We had broiled oysters, a little out of sea- 
 son, and a bottle of champagne, though Swansford would 
 have preferred ale, as being so much cheaper. I was in a 
 splendid mood, and again carried my point. 
 
 This ravishing dawn of prosperity melted my soul, and 
 there, in the little stall, scarcely separated from roystering 
 and swearing bullies on either side, I whispered to Swans- 
 ford my love for Amanda and my dreams of the future 
 which we should share. 
 
 He bent down his head and said nothing, but I saw a 
 tear drop into his wine. 
 
 We rose and walked silently homewards, arm in aim
 
 216 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 CHAPTER XVTL 
 MTHICH "CONDENSES THE MISCELLANEOUS" OF A TEAR. 
 
 THE next day commenced for me a new life a life of 
 responsible, regulated labor, and certain, if moderate re- 
 ward. It was not difficult to resume the harness, for my 
 temporary freedom had not been sufficiently enjoyed to 
 tempt me to prolong it. My life already possessed a seri- 
 ous direction, leading, I fondly believed, to that home of 
 my own creation which my poor mother had foreseen upon 
 her death-bed. This hope was stronger at that time than 
 any literary aspirations. Indeed, I would have sacrificed 
 the latter without much regret, provided another and more 
 speedy path to wealth and distinction had presented itself. 
 But my mind had received its bent from my cheaply won 
 triumphs at the Honeybrook Academy, and I had too little 
 expenence of life to know how easily a young and plastic 
 nature accommodates itself to different forms of training. 
 
 I took my appointed desk in the editorial room of the 
 Daily Wonder, and commenced my allotted labor of " con- 
 densing the miscellaneous." I was so anxious to give satis- 
 fit ction that no paper even the most insignificant country 
 sheet passed through my hands without being carefully 
 inspected. I sat at my desk from ten to twelve hours a 
 day, selecting, condensing, and polishing my items, until 
 Smeaton, the foreman of the composing-room, the man 
 with smutty hands and paper cap, informed me, as he 
 took my slips, " You do pile up the Miscellaneous in an 
 awful way ; half of that will be crowded out of to-nighf a 
 make-up."
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 217 
 
 Not a fire, murder, railroad disaster, daring burglary, 
 shocking accident, tragic occurrence, curious phenomenon 
 or singular freak of nature, escaped my eyes ; and I was 
 beginning to congratulate myself on my expertness, when, 
 on the third day, I received a most unexpected humiliation. 
 I had overlooked the result of an election to fill a vacancy 
 in the Fourth Congressional District of Tennessee, a 
 circumstance which my colleagues who " condensed the 
 miscellaneous " for the Marvel, the Monitor, and the Avenger, 
 had all duly commemorated, thus distancing the Wonder 
 for that day. Mr. Clarendon's wrath was both strong and 
 freely expressed. It would have been still more severe, 
 Mr. Severn informed me, but for the lucky chance that the 
 " city editor," in reporting a fire in Broome Street, had ob- 
 tained both the amount of insurance and the names of the 
 companies, which were not mentioned in the rival dailies, 
 and thereby partly compensated my oversight. I found 
 that the rivalry extended to the smallest details in the com- 
 position of a paper, and was felt as keenly by the subordi- 
 nates of the establishment as by the principals. There was 
 an eager comparison of the various journals every morning, 
 and while the least advantage of the Wonder in point of 
 news was the subject of general rejoicing, so the most in- 
 significant shortcoming seemed to be felt by each as a per- 
 sonal grievance. .1 very soon caught the infection, and 
 became as sensitive a partisan as the rest. 
 
 There was a marked change in Mr. Jenks's manner 
 towards me when he discovered my new position. My 
 short story with the unmistakable moral was accepted with 
 some flattering remarks, to the effect that I was already 
 improving in style, and he thought he could afford to pay 
 me ten dollars instead of five. He called me back when I 
 was leaving his office, adding in a careless way, " Of course 
 you know Mr. Withering, the literary critic of the Wonder 
 I wish you would just call his attention to the June n umbel 
 of ' The Hesperian.' Here is an extra copy for him."
 
 218 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 On Saturday* afternoon I received the stipulated six dol- 
 lars, which I felt had been well earned. This sum was 
 sufficient to pay my board and all other necessary expenses, 
 thus making me independent of literature and its scanty, 
 uncertain returns. I was already so fortunate as to possess 
 a a occupation and a taste ; the narrow bounds of my life 
 were satisfactorily filled. I not only felt but saw that 
 others recognized in me a new importance. Even Mr. 
 Mortimer, identifying me with the Wonder, seemed to take 
 it for granted that I was the depository of much secret 
 intelligence, in matters of current gossip, politics, or finance. 
 The demand for my opinion on these matters created the 
 supply, and it was astonishing how soon my words, until 
 now shy, hesitating, and painfully self-distrustful, became 
 assured and oracular. Rand's opinion, as to the necessity 
 of certain metals, either in face or pocket, seemed about to 
 be justified. 
 
 When I returned home that evening, a new delight 
 awaited me. Mrs. Very handed me a letter, addressed to 
 "Mr. John Godfrey," in a coarse, awkward hand, which 
 puzzled me a little until I noticed the post-mark, " Cardiff," 
 in one corner. Then I rushed up to my room, locked the 
 door, and tore open the envelope with trembling haste. A 
 delicate enclosure, of silky pink paper, and redolent of 
 patchouly, dropped out ; but I resolutely inspected the 
 rough husk before feasting my heart on the honeyed kernel. 
 Phis was Dan's letter : 
 
 " SUNDAY, May the 23d. 
 
 " Respected Friend, I reed, your favor in which you in 
 formed me that you was getting on so well and gave the 
 other as you directed. Thought it best to wait for the 
 other's answer, though there is no particular news. Sep 
 Bratton goes to The Buck every day, and there 's high 
 goings on between him and the squire. Your friend Mr. 
 Rand was there again. People say the squire is speculating 
 about Pottsville, and will cut up pretty fat some day, which
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 219 
 
 is no business of mine, but thought you might like to hear 
 We are all well, and mother and Sue says remember me te 
 him. I guess Ben and her is satisfied with one another, 
 but you need not say I told you. There is a mistress at 
 the school this summer, a right smart young woman, her 
 Dame is Lavina Wilkins. And hoping these few lines will 
 find you enjoying good health, I remain, 
 
 " Yours, respectfully, 
 
 " DANIEL YULE." 
 
 This letter was almost like the touch of Dan's broad, 
 honest hand ; it brought a breeze from the valley with it 
 and a burst of sunshine, in which I beheld the pond, the 
 shaded foot-path, and the lonely bank beside the old hem- 
 lock-tree. With a sigh of yearning tenderness I stretched 
 forth my empty arms and murmured, " Dear Amanda ! " 
 Then I kissed the fragrant pink of the little note, and 
 gloated over my own uame, traced in fine Italian hand. 
 The words looked so smooth, so demure, so gently calm 
 in short, so like herself! My heart thrilled with joy as I 
 deciphered, on the fairy seal of sky-blue wax, scarcely 
 larger than a three-cent piece, the words " toujours jidele" 
 After this, I had no more power of abstinence. The com- 
 ing joy must be tasted. 
 
 Her letter was very short in comparison with mine, so 
 short, indeed, that after three readings I knew it by heart, 
 and could repeat it to myself as I walked down Chatham 
 Street. I can still recall it, word by word. 
 
 " Dear John," (there were volumes of withheld confession 
 for me in that one adjective) : 
 
 " How pleased I was to get your beautiful letter ! Ma 
 was not at home, so I was alone and could read it undis- 
 turbed, fancying you were near me. Do you really think 
 of me so much ? Do I always seem present to you ? I 
 can scarcely believe it yet, although you say it. and I feel 
 iu my heart that you are true. I am not afraid that when
 
 220 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 you get to be a great writer, yo i will forget me or any of us, 
 Oh, it is a bliss to find one npon whom we can rely ! You 
 may imagine how much I have thought about you since 
 you left. It was so sudden, and I was so bewildered by what 
 you said, and I cannot remember what / said or did. But 
 I do not forget any of your words. They cannot be unsaid, 
 can they ? Tell me truly, now, do you wish it could be so ? 
 -- but no, I will not ask the question. We were at Carters- 
 town last Sunday, and Mr. Perego preached from the text 
 Love is strong as death, Jealousy cruel as the grave. I 
 wished you could only have heard it ! How some people 
 can be so jealous is past my comprehension : they can't 
 have much faith, it seems to me. 
 
 " Oh, your letter was so beautiful ! so poetic ! I am quite 
 ashamed to send you my prose in return. I have not your 
 gift of expressing myself, and you must imagine all that I 
 am not able to say. Do not ask too much of me. I am 
 afraid you do not know all my deficiencies, and perhaps I 
 had better stop now, lest I might disclose them to your 
 gaze. Don't you think, with me, that speech is not neces- 
 sary, where people understand each other's feelings'? I 
 could be silent for years, if fate required it, not but what 
 there is a great consolation in the interchange of thoughts. 
 Your description of your life in New York was i-ery inter- 
 esting, and I want to hear more of it ; but now I must say 
 good-bye, for fear of interruption. I cannot repeat, even 
 with the pen, your words at the close of your letter, but you 
 won't care about it now, will you ? A. B. 
 
 " P. S. Oh, do not write very often not more than 
 once in two or three months. It would be dreadful if Pa 
 or Ma or Sep should find it out They all think I am a 
 child with no mind of my own. And I cannot look Dan 
 Yule in the face: he must suspect something, and what if 
 he should get drunk and tell ! Not that he drinks, but we 
 can't tell what may happen, and I am so frightened for fear 
 our vooi . harmless letters should fall into son.. 'body's handa
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 221 
 
 M N. B. I have received the Hesperian through the 
 Post-office. Sep brought it, but he did not know youi 
 hand. How lucky ! Leonora's Dream is lovely .' " 
 
 How easily I read, in those artless, timid sentences, hei 
 shy, pure, yet steadfastly faithful maiden heart ! Even mj 
 own tumultuous utterances of passion lost their eloquence, 
 beside the soft serenity of her voice. The tender playful- 
 ness with which she avoided repeating the fond epithets I 
 had used, quite charmed me. Love had donned a witch- 
 ing, coquettish mask, well knowing that his own immortal 
 eyes shone through it. I was completely happy, but an 
 instinct told me not to intrude my joy on Swansford's mys- 
 terious sorrow : so, that night, I kept my room and wrote 
 another poem. 
 
 My life now assumed a somewhat monotonous sameness. 
 For months I strictly performed my appointed duties, in- 
 creasing my circle of acquaintances but slightly, and acquir- 
 ing no experiences which seem worthy of being recorded. 
 My nature, apparently, was resting from the excitements of 
 the previous year, and its rapid, partly enforced develop- 
 ment was followed by a long period of repose. Little by 
 little, however, I was gaining in knowledge of life, in self- 
 reliance, and in power of discriminating between the true 
 and the false, in men and things ; but in all these particu- 
 lars I suspect I was still behind most young men of my 
 own age. Certainly I saw not yet the out-cropping of the 
 grosser elements of human nature which a great city brings 
 to light, yet I began to feel a dim conviction that there wn 
 something, that my own innocence and ignorance weie 
 exceptional, and that, whether in the way of observation 
 or experience, I had much to learn. 
 
 About the beginning of winter, Mr. Clarendon, after 
 informing me that he considered me tolerably well broken 
 to the harness, and expressing his satisfaction with my 
 punctual, steady habits of work, raised my salary to ten
 
 222 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 dollars a week. I was by this time able to do " the Miscel 
 laneous" much more rapidly, and was frequently called 
 upon, in addition, to write short items about the weather, 
 the appearance of the city on particular occasions, or such 
 other indefinite subjects as might be safely intrusted to a 
 new hand. Thus I became more and more, in my own 
 estimation, an integral part of the Daily Wonder, but for- 
 tunately did not feel the loss of the individuality which it 
 absorbed. 
 
 The increase of my salary, added to an occasional windfall 
 from " The Hesperian," enabled me now to set about grat- 
 ifying a secret desire which I had long cherished. This 
 was nothing less than to publish a volume. Swansford, who 
 had great faith in my abilities, advised me to this step ; but 
 no persuasion was necessary to convince me of its expedi- 
 ency. As the author of a popular book, I believed that 
 Squire Bratton would bow his haughty crest before me, 
 and Uncle Amos approach me with a penitent confession 
 of misdemeanor. Instead of running at the stirrup, as I 
 had been doing, it was a bold leap into the saddle. Raised 
 thus, a head and shoulders above the " heartless, unheeding 
 crowd," I should spatter instead of being spattered. It was 
 an enticing idea, and I had scarcely patience to wait for its 
 fulfilment. 
 
 In another respect, however, Swansford was perverse, 
 and his perverseness greatly annoyed me. Our " Fashion- 
 able Song " proved to be very popular. It was published 
 as the composition of Bridger (of Bridger's Minstrels), and 
 he, of course, received all the fame. It was even reported 
 in the papers that his commission on the sale, he being 
 owner of the copyright, amounted to more than a thousand 
 dollars. I was furious when I read this to Swansford, but 
 he only smiled, in his melancholy way, as he remarked, 
 
 " He is welcome to the money, and his success with that 
 stuff reconciles me to my share of the pay. He would 
 give a hundred dollars for another, Mackintosh tells me."
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 222 
 
 " Don't do it ! " I cried, eagerly. "A hundred dollars 
 and half the gains of the copyright will be little enough 
 Think what we have lost on the first one ! " 
 
 " You forget, Godfrey, how glad we were to get it. Why 
 we should have been satisfied with one tenth of the sum 
 But I wrote the thing in a freak of disgust, which I have 
 outlived, thank God ! Why should I allow such themes to 
 enter my brain at all ? The time is too short, the mission 
 too solemn, for this profane trifling." 
 
 " But, Swansford," I cried, " you surely don't mean tha' 
 you will not write another, if I furnish the words ? " 
 
 Yes." said he, gravely, and lowering his voice almost to 
 a whisper ; " I am writing a symphony. It will be my first 
 effort at a work which might be worthy to offer to those 
 two Masters yonder, if they were alive. The first move- 
 ment is finished wait sit down don't interrupt me ! " 
 
 He took his seat at the piano, drew up his coat-sleeves, 
 turned back his wristbands, and commenced playing. It 
 was a sad, monotonous theme, based, for the most part, on 
 low, rumbling chords, which reminded me, more than any- 
 thing else, of distant thunder on the horizon of a summer 
 night. A certain phrase, running into the higher notes, 
 and thence descending by broad, lingering intervals, was 
 several times repeated. The general effect of the compo- 
 sition was weird and mystic ; I felt that I did not fully com- 
 prehend its meaning. 
 
 Swansford at last ceased and turned towards me with 
 excited eyes. " There ! " he cried ; " I have carried it so 
 far, but beyond that there is a confusion which I cannot yet 
 unravel. This is only the presentiment of the struggle 
 its reality is to come. I feel what it should be, but when 
 my mind tries to grasp it, I encounter cloud instead of form. 
 Oh, if I were sure of reaching it at last, I would gladly 
 i^ive sweat, blood, and agony ! " 
 
 He covered his face with his hands, and bent forward 
 over the piano. I recognized and envied in him the pres 
 ence of a consuming artistic passion. Involuntarily, I asked
 
 224 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 myself whether my love of literature possessed me with th 
 same intensity, and was obliged to confess that it did not 
 I was a lover, not a worshipper. I was not strong enough 
 to spurn an avenue of success, though it did not point to 
 the highest goal. But I was at least capable of fitting rev 
 erence for Swansford's loftier and more delicately consti- 
 tuted nature, and made no further reference, then, to the 
 offer he had received. 
 
 When I returned to the subject, a few days afterwards, I 
 found huii as stubborn as ever. My share of the money 
 which we might earn so easily would have enabled me at 
 once to publish my volume ; and as I was conscious of no 
 special degradation in the first instance, so I could not for 
 the life of me feel that a repetition of the joke would be a 
 flagrant offence against either his art or mine. My repre- 
 sentations to this effect were useless. He was completely 
 absorbed in his symphony, and filled with a rapt, devotional 
 spirit, which, by contrast with- my.position, made me seem 
 a tempter, assailing him with evil suggestions. I was silent, 
 and Bridger did not get his second song. 
 
 During the winter my circle of experience was consider- 
 ably enlarged. A small portion of the " complimentary " 
 privileges of the Wonder fell to my share, and I made ac- 
 quaintance with lectures, concerts, the drama, and the oj> 
 era. Swansford sometimes accompanied me to the latter, 
 and from him I learned the character and significance of 
 works which had else impressed me with a vague, voluptu- 
 ous, unintelligent delight In my leisure hours I undertook 
 the task of preparing my poems for publication. I had too 
 great a liking for my own progeny to reject any of them, 
 but, even then, there were not more than enough to form a 
 thin volume of a hundred and twenty pages. The choice 
 of a title puzzled me exceedingly. I hesitated for a long 
 time between " The Wind-Harp " and "TEolian Harmo- 
 nies." until Swansford informed me that both were equally 
 suggestive of monotonous effect. Then I went to the op- 
 posite extreme of simplicity, and adopted First Poems, bj
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 225 
 
 John Godfrey," which the publisher, who was to lend mt 
 his imprint (I paying all the expenses of printing and bind- 
 ing and receiving half the proceeds of the sales), rejected 
 as fatal to success. It would never do, he said, to announce 
 'First Poems " ; nobody would buy them ; I must presup- 
 pose that the public was familiar with my productions ; 
 many persons bought, simply to show that they kept up 
 with the current literature, and the word " First " would 
 tell them the whole story. Why not say " Leonora's 
 Dream," (he saw that was the name of the leading poem,) 
 " and Other Poems " ? And so it was settled. 
 
 During all this time I had tried to gratify Amanda's wish 
 with regard to the correspondence. It was hard, very hard, 
 to endure three months' silence, but as she begged it for 
 her sake, I tried to quiet my impatient heart and console 
 myself with tne knowledge of our mutual constancy. Her 
 letters were short, but precious beyond computation. Her 
 expressions were none the less sweet that they were con- 
 stantly repeated ; did not I, also, repeat over and over, 
 without the possibility of exhausting their emphasis, my 
 own protestations of unalterable love ? I communicated 
 my good fortune, with sure predictions of the bright future 
 it heralded, but kept back, as a delicious surprise, the se- 
 cret of my intended publication, and another plan which 
 was to follow it. As it was now evident that the book 
 could not be given to the world before May. and my 
 twenty-first birthday occurred in June, I determined to 
 steal a few days for a visit and present myself and my fame 
 at the same time. I should come into possession of my 
 legacy, and it would therefore be necessary to make a jour- 
 ney to Reading. 
 
 How my dreams expanded and blossomed in the breath 
 of the opening spring ! Love, Manhood, and Money, 
 though the last was less than it had once seemed to me, 
 how boundless was the first and how joyous the second I 
 
 15
 
 226 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 CHAPTER XVm. 
 
 IN WHICH I AGAIN BEHOLD AMANDA. 
 
 TOWARDS the end of May the important book appeared 
 I am sure that no immortal work was ever watched, through 
 its different processes of incarnation, with such tender 
 solicitude. I lingered over the first proofs, the revised 
 proofs, and the printed and folded sheets, with a proud, 
 luxurious interest, and the final consummation the little 
 volume, bound and lettered was so precious that I could 
 have kissed the leaves one by one. It seemed incredible 
 that the " John Godfrey " on the title-page really meant 
 myself! A book for me had hitherto possessed a sublime, 
 mystical individuality of its own, and this, which had grown 
 beneath my hand, by stages of manufacture as distinctly 
 material as those which go to the formation of a shoe or a 
 stove, was now to be classed among those silent, eloquent 
 personalities ! It might be placed side by side with " Para- 
 dise Lost " or " Childe Harold," on book-shelves ; who could 
 tell whither chance or fortune might not carry it, or what 
 young and burning lips it might not help unseal ? 
 
 A year previous, I should have been ready to expect the 
 event announced by portents, such as precede the incarna- 
 tion of a prophet, murmurs in the air, restless move- 
 ments of the sea, strange moods of expectancy in men. 
 But all my boyish pyrotechnics of fancy had already dwin- 
 dled down to a modest tallow-candle, and I had, now and 
 then, my moments of severe doubt My book, I now knew, 
 was a venture, but whether strikingly and immediately suc- 
 cessful; or the reverse, it would at least serve a purpose bj
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 227 
 
 bringing my name before the reading public, to say nothing 
 of the dearer service which I confidently awaited from its 
 publication. 
 
 Copies were sent to all the principal newspapers and 
 periodicals of Boston, New York, and Philadelphia, and to 
 all prominent authors, inscribed on the fly-leaf: ' With the 
 respects of John Godfrey." My position in the Wonder 
 office gave me an opportunity of seeing whatever criticisms 
 it might call forth, and from the day of publication I looked 
 at the column of " Book Notices," before searching among 
 the local news for condensable items. For nearly a week 
 1 saw nothing, and was nigh unto despair ; then came a 
 few scattering notices, then dozens of them all together. 
 They were mostly brief, but very pleasant I was accredited 
 with " tender sentiment," " sweetness of versification," and 
 " much promise." The result of these judgments not only 
 satisfied, but elated me. A little poem, entitled " The Win- 
 ter Wind," which I esteemed much less than the longer and 
 more ambitious productions, was extensively copied. In the 
 words of a western editor, it was " worthy of the pen of 
 Amelia B. Welby." The faults of the volume were indi- 
 cated in the same indefinite way as its merits ; they were 
 " want of maturity," " occasional violation of metre," or " re- 
 dundancy of images, attributable to youth." Thus, although 
 very few copies of the book were demanded of the pub- 
 lisher, I considered it a flattering success. 
 
 All these notices I cut out and carefully preserved in a 
 separate pocket of my portfolio. I have them still. The 
 other day, as I took them out and read them over with an 
 objective scrutiny in which no shadow of my former interest 
 remained, I was struck with the vague, mechanical stamp 
 by which they are all characterized. I sought in vain 
 for a single line which showed the discrimination of an en- 
 lightened critic. The fact is, we had no criticism, worthy 
 of the name, at that time. Our literature was tenderly 
 petted, and its diffuse, superficial sentiment was perhaps
 
 228 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 even more admired than its first attempts at a profoundei 
 study of its own appropriate themes and a noble assertion 
 of its autonomy. That brief interregnum in England, during 
 which such writers as Moir, B. Simmons, T. K. Hervey, and 
 Alaric A. Watts enjoyed a delusive popularity, had its 
 counterpart on our side of the Atlantic. All our gentle, 
 languishing echoes found spell-bound listeners, whom no 
 one with, perhaps, the single exception of Poe had 
 the will to disenchant Hillhouse and Dawes, Grenville 
 Mellen and Brainard still sat high on Parnassus, and 
 Griswold astonished us by disinterring a whole Pantheon 
 of forgotten worthies. 
 
 For my own part, I am grateful that it was so. I was 
 wanned and cheered by generous words of welcome, of 
 which I only felt the sincerity, not the critical nullity. My 
 life was brightened and made hopeful at a time when 
 but I will not anticipate my story. The reader will learn, 
 before I close, how far my maturer powers justified my 
 early ambition, and he will acquit me of selfishness when 
 I express the hope that all brambles may be put away from 
 before the feet of others, as they were put away from mine. 
 Whether or not I deserve the fame I then coveted, I am 
 still grateful for the considerate kindness which did not 
 venture to disturb a single illusion. What if those poems 
 were but bubbles thrown up by the first warm fermentation 
 of youth ? For me they displayed, none the less, theii 
 fragments of rainbow color, and I do not see why I should 
 not rejoice in them while they lasted. Why, also, should 
 any one say to me, " These are air and froth, not the im- 
 perishable opals you imagine ? " No ; let rather me, and 
 all such as brighten their lives with similar dreams, be 
 deceived ! 
 
 I had worked steadily and faithfully for a year, at my desk 
 in the Wonder office, and Mr. Clarendon did not refuse my 
 petition for a week's holiday. Severn agreed to perform my 
 duties, in addition to his own, during my absence, with the
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 229 
 
 understanding that I should return the service, later in the 
 summer. To Swansfbrd I confided so much of my intention 
 as regarded the business with my uncle, reserving the rest 
 until my return, for I was still uncertain how Squire Bratton 
 would receive the knowledge of my attachment to Amanda. 
 The dear fellow sympathized heartily with my improving 
 prospects. He believed in the promise of my volume, be- 
 cause it was better than he could have done, and his pre- 
 dictions of my success in literature were even more enthu- 
 siastic than my own secret hopes. He was a faithful friend ; 
 would that my conscience allowed me to say the same of 
 myself! 
 
 My last letter from Amanda had been received in March. 
 It was brief and hurried, and at any other time would have 
 failed to satisfy the cravings of my heart. But I was al- 
 ready deep in the ecstasy of my " first proofs," and looking 
 forward to the double surprise I was hoarding up for her. 
 " John," she wrote, " do not be angry at my short letter, to- 
 day, for indeed I am dreadfully afraid Sep, or Dan, or some- 
 body suspects something. Sep asked me the other day 
 whether I had heard from you. I thought I should sink 
 into the ground, but I had to look him in the face and tell 
 a jib. I know it was n't right, and you would not like me 
 to do it, but there were Pa and Ma in the room. I am well, 
 only so nervous, you cannot think. Dan looks at me so queer, 
 every time we meet I am not sure that it is right for us 
 to correspond in this underhanded way, but you know it was 
 your proposition. I hope you won't take it hard that T 
 should say so, but indeed I wish there was some other way 
 in which we could exchange our thoughts. Mr. Perego and 
 his wife are here to tea, and I have only five minutes to 
 myself. We see a good deal of company now, and it takes 
 up all my time, nearly. I sometimes wish I was my own 
 mistress, but I suppose such thoughts are wrong. At any 
 rate, I am patient, and you can be a little so, too, can't 
 you? A.B."
 
 230 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 I did not much wonder that Amanda should be somewhat 
 uneasy lest our correspondence the manner of which, to 
 her frank, truthful nature, involved a certain amount of de- 
 ception should be discovered. I felt a slight twinge of 
 conscience on perceiving that I was responsible for her dis- 
 quiet, and confessed that her faith in me, as measured \>y 
 her patience, must exceed mine in her. My love, certainly, 
 did not need the nourishment of letters ; but silence was a 
 pain, and I was much better' constituted to enjoy than to 
 endure. My answer was long and consolatory in its tone. 
 I admitted my impatience, hinting, however, that I hoped 
 the cause of it would soon terminate ; that I fully appre- 
 ciated her position, so much more delicate and difficult than 
 mine, and would release her from it as soon as the improve- 
 ment in my fortunes would allow. Meanwhile, I said, she 
 should only write when she felt assured that she ran no risk 
 in so doing. It was no great magnanimity in me to grant 
 this, under the circumstances, yet I involuntarily let it appear 
 that I was making a sacrifice for her sake. She could not 
 help feeling, I reasoned, that the balance of patience was 
 now restored between us. 
 
 At last the happy morning of my first holiday dawned,, 
 I was fully prepared for the journey, in order to take the 
 ten o'clock train for Trenton. A small and elegant travel- 
 ling valise, packed the night before, stood on the top of my 
 honest old trunk, and its shining leather winked at me, with 
 an expression of eagerness for its mission. Among the 
 contents, I need not say, were several copies of " Leonora's 
 Dream, and Other Poems," one of them bound in green 
 morocco, with gilt edges. After I had arrayed myself in a 
 new travelling-suit of light-brown, and carefully adjusted 
 the bow of my cinnamon-colored cravat, I took a good look 
 at my face in the little mirror, and commended what I saw. 
 I can still remember, as if it were somebody else's face, the 
 dark, earnest, innocent eyes, filled with such a joyous light ; 
 the low brow anc thick, wavy locks of hair the smooth
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 281 
 
 Cheeks, already pale from my confined life, and the thin, 
 sensitive lips, shaded by a silky moustache, which would be 
 red, no matter how my hair had darkened. My features 
 were not regular, and I never thought of making any claim 
 to be called handsome ; but I was vain enough to imagine 
 that there was something " interesting " in my face, and 
 that 1 would not disappoint the expectations of nry Amanda. 
 My country awkwardness, at least, had disappeared, and the 
 self-possessed air which had come in its stead enabled me 
 to use, instead of obscure, my few physical advantages. 
 
 My ride to Trenton was shortened by the active, excited 
 imagination, which ran in advance and prefigured, in a 
 thousand ways, the coming meeting. When I arrived I 
 found that I was too late for the afternoon stage, and, on 
 account of the distance across the country to Cardiff, would 
 be obliged to wait until morning. This was a sore inter- 
 ruption, but it came to end, and sunrise saw me once 
 more looking on the green Pennsylvanian hills from the 
 driver's box. I enjoyed the fresh summer glory of the 
 country as never before ; success was behind me and love 
 beckoned me on. What wonder if the meadow-larks piped 
 more sweetly than ever the nightingale in Cephissian thick- 
 ets, or if the blue and green of sky and earth held each 
 other in a lovelier harmony than that of which Herbert 
 sang ? As we drove onward, the two hills which rise to 
 the eastward of Cardiff lifted their round, leafy tops, afar 
 off, over the rim of the horizon. I thought them the gates 
 of Paradise. 
 
 It was noon when the stage drew up beside the white 
 porch of the well-known tavern, and the driver announced 
 to the four inside passengers, " Fifteen minutes for din- 
 ner!" His statement was noisily verified by a big bell 
 which issued from the central door, followed by the arm 
 and then the body of the stout landlord, who looked at 
 me doubtfully as I entered, but did not seem to recog 
 nize me. I was rather glad of this, as it proved that I hac
 
 232 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 changed considerably in my appearance, and, I hoped, foi 
 the better. I was Joo hungry to slight the announcement 
 of dinner, especially as I had determined on walking ovei 
 to Upper Samaria, as on that well-remembered autumn 
 day, a year and a half before. 
 
 Taking the green morocco book from my valise, which I 
 left in the landlord's charge, I set forth on my journey, in 
 a tumult of delicious feelings. I know that I was frequently 
 obliged to pause when my breath came short with the rapid 
 beating of my heart. I anticipated and measured off the 
 distance, and computed the time, saying to myself, " In an 
 hour more in fifty minutes in three-quarters " 
 
 When I reached the top of the second hill from Cardiff, 
 and looked across the hollow to the next rise, where the 
 road skirts Hannaford's Woods, I saw a neat open wagon 
 coming up towards me. The team had a familiar air, and 
 I stopped and inspected it with some curiosity. I scarcely 
 knew whether to be pleased or alarmed when I recognized 
 Squire Bratton and his wife. My first impulse, I fancy, was 
 to leap over the fence and take a wide circuit across the 
 fields to avoid them ; but then I reflected that they were 
 probably going to Cardiff, leaving the coast clear for my 
 interview with Amanda. It would be my duty to see them 
 when they returned, and my reception then could not be 
 prejudiced by greeting them now. I therefore resumed 
 my walk, but more slowly, down the hill. 
 
 As the wagon approached, I could see that Squire Brat- 
 ton looked more than usually spruce and important. His 
 hat was set well back upon his head, and the ends of his 
 upright shirt-collar made two sharp white triangles upon 
 the broad red plain of his cheeks. He snapped his whip- 
 lash continually in the air, and the sound prevented me 
 from hearing the remarks which, from the motion of hia 
 head and the movement of his mouth, he was evidently 
 making to his wife. He did not seem to recognize me until 
 we wore but a few paces apart.
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 235 
 
 " Hallo ! Why, here 's Godfrey ! " he exclaimed, check 
 ing the horses. 
 
 I approached the wheel, and shook hands with both. 
 
 " Should hardly ha' known you, with that bit of squirrel's 
 tail under your nose," said the Squire. " Coming over to 
 see us all again ? That 's right." 
 
 " Yes," I answered ; " I am on my way to Reading, and 
 did not like to pass as near as Cardiff, without calling upon 
 my friends in Upper Samaria. I hope you are all well." 
 
 " First-rate, first-rate. I need n't ask you. You 've got 
 into better business than school-teaching, I should reckon ? " 
 
 O 7 
 
 I smiled in conscious triumph, as I replied, " Oh yes, 
 much better in every way." 
 
 " Glad to hear it. Well we must push on. See you 
 again to-night You '11 find our house open, and somebody 
 there you '11 like to see : ha, ha ! " 
 
 With a chuckle of satisfaction and a pistol-volley from 
 his whip, Squire Bratton drove away, leaving me in a state 
 of profound astonishment. What did he mean ? Could it 
 be that he had accidentally discovered, or that Amanda 
 had confessed, the truth, and that he intended to give me 
 a hint of his approbation ? It seemed almost too complete 
 a joy to be real, and yet I could give his words no other 
 interpretation. As for Mrs. Bratton, she had laughed and 
 nodded her head, as much as to say, " Go on it 's all 
 right ! " The more incredible my fortune seemed, the more 
 sure I felt that it must be true. An instant feeling of grat- 
 itude and affection for the old couple sprang up in my 
 heart. I turned about, as if to thank them on the spot for 
 my perfect happiness, but their team had gone over the 
 hill Then I hastened forward, up the long rise, with feet 
 that scarcely felt the road. 
 
 Again the charming valley how dear its every feature 
 now ! lay spread before me. There was Yule's Mill, and 
 ihe glassy pond, and the chimneys of Bratton's house, ris- 
 ing out of a boss of leaves ; and do ,vn the stream, over the
 
 ?84 JOHN GODFREIS FORTUNES. 
 
 twinkling lines of the willows, I could just see the ragged 
 top of the old hemlock, sacred to the first confession and 
 surrender of love. I never saw a lovelier, happier, more 
 peaceful scene : I never expect to see its like again. 
 
 Now my road led down between the sloping fields which 
 caught the full warmth of the sun, and let their grain romp 
 and roll in the sweet summer wind, until it bent to the 
 level of the creek, around the knoll where I had sought for 
 trailing arbutus, on that day whence my life as a man ought 
 to be dated. I there determined to cross the stream above 
 the pond, and make my way straight through the narrow 
 field beyond, to Bratton's house. First Amanda, and the 
 positive assurance of my bliss ! I said. 
 
 Hot and panting with excitement and the rapidity of my 
 motions, I gained the top of the knoll at last, but a stone's 
 throw from the house. All was quiet around. The trees 
 aid the windows, and even the front veranda, from the 
 point where I stood, and I thought of the magic hedge 
 around the palace of the Sleeping Beauty. The hundred 
 years had passed, and I was the fortunate prince, come to 
 waken my beloved with a kiss. I paused, and held back 
 the joy at my lips, that I might the longer taste its perfect 
 flavor. All at once I heard the voice of some one singing, 
 a voice moving along under the trees. It was she ! 
 I saw the rose-tint of her dress through the gaps in the 
 shrubbery. I saw her glide along towards an open arbor 
 of lattice-work, overgrown with clematis, which stood on 
 the top of the lawn, a little to the left of the house. 
 
 Now was my fortunate moment ! I sprang over the 
 fence, crept down behind the clumps of lilac and roses, and 
 reached the arbor as she was singing the line, " And I 're 
 seen cm eye still brighter" (How well I remember it) 
 Her back was towards me : she was looking out, over the 
 railing, down the road to the mill. How lovely her slen- 
 der figure, clad in pink lawn, showed in the green frame ! 
 I could no longer contain myself, but cried out. in a voice 
 which I vainly strove to soften to a whisper,
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 285 
 
 " Amanda ! Dear Amanda ! " 
 
 She started, with a gasp, rather than a scream, of sur 
 prise. She turned and recognized me : a fiery blush rar 
 over her face and neck, but instantly died away, leaving 
 her very pale. Her eyes were fixed upon mine with an 
 expression of alarm ; her lips moved a little, but she seemed 
 unable to speak. 
 
 " I did n't mean to frighten you so, Amanda," I said, 
 u but I am so glad, so happy ! " And I rushed forward, 
 threw my arms around her waist, and bent down to give 
 her the kiss for which I had hungered so long. 
 
 But she screamed, covered her face with her hands, and 
 twisted herself out of my embrace. " Leave me alone ! " 
 she said, in a low, hard voice, as she escaped to the other 
 side of the table, and stood there, pale, and trembling a 
 little. 
 
 " Don't be angry, darling ! " I pleaded. " Is n't it true, 
 then, that your father and mother know everything? I 
 met them on the road, and they told me to come here at 
 once that you would be glad to see me. I thought they 
 must know, you see, and that all our troubles were over, for 
 I 'm free at last, I am my own master, and now I can 
 speak to your father. It will all come out right, and we 
 will be rewarded for our patience." 
 
 I gently approached her as I spoke these words. But 
 she put out her hand to keep me away, and said, with her 
 face turned from me, " You must not say such things to 
 ne, Mr. Godfrey." 
 
 Something in the tone of her voice seemed to chill my 
 very blood. I was so startled and astonished that the first 
 thought which came into my head forced for itself a pas- 
 sionate utterance. 
 
 "Amanda!" I cried, "tell me what all this means! 
 What have you heard ? Has anybody dared to slander me 
 in my absence, and have you believed it ? " 
 
 I had scarcely finished speaking before she sprang fortlr 
 from the arbor, crying, " Charles ! Charles 1 "
 
 236 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 I had not heard the approaching step on the laAvn. but 
 close at hand arose a familiar masculine voice, " Why, 
 what 's the matter, dear ? " Looking out, I was petrified 
 at beholding, three paces off, my Amanda (I still thought 
 her mine) clinging to Charley Rand, who already had hi? 
 arm about her waist Nor did he relinquish his clasp when 
 he lifted his head and saw me. 
 
 " Godfrey ! " he exclaimed ; " where did you drop from, 
 all at once ? " 
 
 He stretched out his hand, as if expecting me to come 
 forward and take it. I stood motionless, striving to realize 
 the fact of this double treachery. My tongue clove to my 
 jaws, and I was unable to articulate a word. 
 
 " What has happened, Amanda ? " he asked. 
 
 " Oh, Charles ! " she murmured, tenderly, with her head 
 on his shoulder, " Mr. Godfrey has so frightened me." 
 
 He laughed. " Never mind," he said ; " you seem to 
 have frightened him quite as badly." 
 
 Disengaging his arm, he now approached me. I invol- 
 untarily retreated a step, and my voice returned to me. 
 
 " Stand back, Rand ! " I cried. " What are you doing 
 here ? What right have you to hold Miss Bratton in your 
 arms?" 
 
 " Come, now, that 's a good joke ! " said he, with an inso- 
 lent air, " Miss Bratton ? Mrs. Rand, you mean! Mrs 
 Rand since two days. I thought, to be sure, you had come 
 down on purpose to congratulate us." 
 
 I could not yet believe it. " Amanda ! " I said, turning 
 to her, and speaking with a voice which I hardly recognized 
 as my own, " is it true ? Are you married to that man ? " 
 
 She stood up and looked me full in the face. There was 
 not a quiver of her eyelids, nor a shade of deeper color OK 
 her pale, quiet face. " Certainly," she said. 
 
 u Good God ! " I cried ; " you could break your fiiith with 
 me, without a word! This is your truth! This is your 
 patience ! You, whom I have so loved, for whose sake I
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 287 
 
 6ave so labored ! Rand, did you know that she and I were 
 engaged that she had given her heart to me that -lie 
 has been mine, in the sight of God, for more than a yeai 
 past ? " 
 
 I saw, while I was speaking, that his face was beginning 
 to grow dark. Amanda must have noticed it also, and have 
 instantly decided what course to take, for she confronted 
 me without flinching, the settled calm of her face stiffening 
 nto a hard, cold, cruel mask, in which I saw her true 
 nature expressed, the mingled nature of the cat and the 
 serpent, false, selfish, and venomous. 
 
 " It is a lie ! " she exclaimed. " How dare you say such 
 things ? I never was engaged to you I never told you 
 that I loved you ! " 
 
 " Amanda ! " was all I could utter. But the helpless 
 appeal of love, the bitter reproach, the hot indignation of 
 an honest heart, which together found expression in that 
 one word, were shattered against the icy visage of her 
 treachery. She turned to Rand, with a tender, frightened 
 ah-, saying, " Charles, make him go away : he is certainly 
 crazy ! " 
 
 " Come." said he, " we 've had quite enough of this, God- 
 frey ! You were always a little vain, you know, and you 
 must n't think that because a young lady behaves friendly, 
 and admires your writings, and all that sort of thing, that 
 she 's dead in love with you. I don't mind your prancing 
 around in this way, so far as I 'm concerned, but I won't 
 see my wife insulted." 
 
 I could have borne anything better than his flippant, pat- 
 ronizing tone ; but, indeed, my back was not then strong 
 enough to bear another feather's-weight of burden. It was 
 not merely that the cherished bliss of my life was dashed to 
 pieces in a moment : I was outraged, humiliated, wounded 
 at all points. My conflicting feelings, all surging towards 
 the same centre, possessed me wholly, body and brain, and 
 I can no longer disentangle them, in memory. I was mad
 
 288 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 " Then see yourself insulted ! " I shouted. My muscle? 
 acted of themselves, with wonderful rapidity. Kand re- 
 ceived a blow in the face and tumbled over backwards 
 upon the grass. His wife screamed and seemed to be 
 making towards me, her quiet eyes lighted up horribly with 
 a white, steely blaze. I remember turning away with a 
 contemptuous laugh, stumbling down the lawn like a drunk- 
 en man, with a dizzy humming in my ears, and finding 
 my way, somehow, to a lonely nook under the willows, a 
 short distance below the mill. There I sat down, and after 
 sharp, convulsive pangs, as on that night at school when 
 Penrose soothed me, the storm broke into tears. I covered 
 my face with my hands and wept long and passionately. It 
 was impossible to think, or to call to my help the least of 
 the consolations which afterwards came. I could feel noth- 
 ing but the deadly hurt of the wound. 
 
 All at once, as the violence of my passion was wearing 
 itself out, I felt a hand gently pressing my shoulder. I 
 need not have started, with a sudden, angry suspicion of 
 further treachery : it was only Dan Yule. I took his hand, 
 and tried to say something. 
 
 He sat down beside me, and patted my leg, with a kind 
 familiarity. " Don't mind me" said he : "I guess I know 
 what 's the matter, havin' had a suspicion of it from the first 
 I seen what was goin' on over f the Squire's, and had a 
 good mind to ha' writ to you about it, but, thinks I, it 
 a'n't none o' my business, and like as not she 's told him 
 herself, and so I 'd better keep clear. But I did n't like it 
 none the more. I 'd just got in a big saw-log this after- 
 noon, when I seen you comin' down from the Squire's, and 
 turnin' into the willers seemed like as if you did n't 
 exackly know where you was goin'. So I set Jim to shut 
 off the water when the saw got to f other end, and sneaked 
 across to see what had become o' you." 
 
 Dan kept his eyes on the ground while he spoke, and 
 mechanically went on patting my leg, as if both anxious to
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 28S 
 
 comfort me in some way and fearful lest his presence was 
 embarrassing. I said something at last about my disap- 
 pointment being so unexpected something which he in 
 terpreted as an apology for my weakness. 
 
 " You need n't be ashamed on it," said he. " Lots o' fel- 
 lows takes on that way. only a man does n't like to be seen 
 I s'pose people thinks it is n't jist manly, but there 's time.' 
 when you can't help yourself. You don't mean that you 
 had no idee she was married, till you come here and found 
 it out?" 
 
 I thereupon told Dan the whole story, ind in telling it, J 
 saw the trick which Amanda had played with me and with 
 her own conscience. It was true that she had never said, 
 either when I declared my love, or afterwards in her letters, 
 in so many ivords, that she loved me : but this discovery only 
 made the actual lie more enormous. There was conscious 
 cold-blooded deception from the beginning : I was bound, 
 but not she. I suppose she must have liked me, in her 
 passive way ; or I may have been the first fish that came 
 into her net Whatever her motive was, in allowing me to 
 believe my love returned, her selfish calculation in the mat- 
 ter, from beginning to end, was now apparent When ] 
 came to the closing scene of the wretched history, Dan 
 became a little excited. Instead of patting my leg, he 
 gave it a spanking slap, and swore, in a general way. 
 without launching his words at anybody in particular. The 
 blow I had administered to Rand put him in a good humor 
 again. 
 
 " I dunno but I 'd ha' done it myselfj in your place," he 
 said. " Though it is n't likely that he was so much to blarne, 
 after all. if he did n't know nothin' about it before." 
 
 The thought had not occurred to me. I immediately 
 recognized its justice, and began to feel ashamed of myself. 
 
 " Well, John." Dan continued, " I reckon, now, you '11 
 come over and stay with us to-night. Miss Lavina 's back 
 again this summer, and she has vour room ; but Ike 's away,
 
 240 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 and you can put up for the night with me. Miss Lavina, 1 
 need n't mind tellin' you, is likely to stay with us. Sue '11 be 
 married after harvest, and I Ve kind o' prevailed on Lavins 
 to take her place." 
 
 Dan looked so sheepish and happy that I understood 
 I iin. 1 thanked him for all his past and present kindness, 
 and congratulated him with fresh tears in my eyes, on the 
 fortune which I never, never should know. I felt, never- 
 theless, that it was impossible to accept his invitation, im- 
 possible for me, in my agitated state, to spend more time in 
 Upper Samaria than would be required to get over the bor- 
 ders of the township. I told him this, and he seemed to 
 understand it. He had lighted his pipe, and was leaning 
 against one of the willows, comfortably smoking. As I 
 arose from my seat on the log, some hard substance in my 
 breast-pocket struck my arm. 
 
 " Dan," I said, " have you a match ? " 
 " Yes. Have you learned to smoke, at last ? " 
 I said nothing, but took the match he offered, and the 
 green morocco, gilt-edged copy of " Leonora's Dream," on 
 the fly-leaf of which I had written a sonnet, O misery ! 
 a sonnet full of the truest and the tenderest love, to the 
 wife of Charley Rand ! I doubled back the sumptuous cov- 
 ers, and turned the leaves from me, that I might not see 
 one word of that mockery, which I, poor fool ! had written 
 with tears of joy dimming my eyes ; then, striking fire with 
 the match, I held it to the book. 
 
 Gosh ! " exclaimed Dan ; " what 's that for ? " 
 The flames soon devoured not only the manuscript but 
 all the hundred and twenty pages of my immortal verse. 
 Then T threw the glittering cover on the ground, and 
 stamped on it with fiendish satisfaction. When it had been 
 so bruised and disfigured that the title was illegible, I flung 
 it down the bank into the stream. 
 
 I watched it as it drifted slowly along, past rotting snag 
 and slimy grass, past oozy banks, and flats of rank skunk
 
 *'.-SiN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 24.1 
 
 cabbage, and felt tbat my own gilt-edged dreams were flung 
 with it to as foul a fate. I had lost my love, and it left no 
 consecration behind, nothing but shame, and bitterness 
 of heart, and contempt for what I had reverenced in myself 
 as. most holy!
 
 242 JOHN GODFREY'S FOUTDWC& 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 RELATING HOW I CAME INTO POSSESS- * OF MY INHKR 
 ITANCE. 
 
 AN hour before sunset I found myself again on the ridge 
 overlooking the valley. I was weak and tired, and as I 
 leaned upon the fence after climbing the long ascent, I was 
 conscious of the dismal change which had come upon the 
 beautiful world of three hours before. I saw the same 
 woods and hills, but the foliage had become hard and black, 
 the fields dreary in their flat greenness, and the sky seemed 
 to hold itself aloof in a cold divorce from the landscape to 
 which it had so lately been softly wedded. Night, or storm, 
 or winter, would have been less cheerless. An unutter- 
 able sense of loneliness filled my heart. I was still young 
 enough to suppose that all emotions were eternal simply 
 because they were emotions. I was sure that my love 
 would never have faded or changed ; now it was violently 
 torn from me, leaving a pang in its place, to inherit its own 
 enduring life. The world could give nothing to compen- 
 sate me for this loss. Better would it be if I could die, and 
 so escape the endless procession of dark, blighted, hopeless 
 days. Then I saw, for the first time, and stood face to face 
 with that Doubt which suspends us, trembling, over the 
 abyss of nothingness. I asked that question which no hu- 
 man mind dare long entertain, that question, the breath 
 of which crumbles Good and Evil, Time, Faith, and Provi- 
 dence, making of life a terror and a despair. The outer 
 crust of thought, upon which I had lived, gave way, and I 
 looked shudderingly down into central deeps of darknesi 
 and of fire.
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 248 
 
 The struggle which my nature was undergoing will be 
 better understood when its mixed character is considered 
 Either pure sorrow for a lost love, or vain yearning for a 
 love which had been withheld, could have been compre- 
 hended by the heart, and therefore so grasped as to be best 
 borne ; but this what was it ? A tumult of love and hate, 
 for the habit of a year could not be unlearned in a mo- 
 ment, disappointed hope, betrayed faith, devotion igno- 
 rantly given to heartless selfishness, a revelation of the 
 baseness of human nature shed upon a boundless trust in 
 its nobility ! It assailed all my forms of faith at once, de- 
 priving me not only of love, but of the supports which 
 might have helped me to bear its loss. 
 
 1 knew that she, henceforth, would hate me. Even if 
 some rudimentary hint of a conscience existed in her na- 
 ture, and the remembrance of her deception were able tc 
 give it an occasional uneasiness, the blow I inflicted on hei 
 husband, before her eyes, more than cancelled the wrong. 
 She would now justify herself to herself, as fully as to him. 
 If the story were ever disclosed, both, of course, would be 
 considered the aggrieved parties in the eyes of the world, 
 and I the vain, adventurous miscreant. 
 
 I walked slowly and wearily back to Cardiff, keeping a 
 good lookout for the vehicle of the elder Brattons, which I 
 discerned far enough in advance to avoid successfully. The 
 landlord by this time had found out who I was, and tor- 
 tured me with stories about the marriage, which I had not 
 tact enough to escape. It appeared, from what he said, 
 that Squire Bratton. Mulford, and Rand's father, with some 
 others, were concerned in a speculation for buying coal- 
 lands, the profits whereupon were to be realized when a cer- 
 tain projected railroad had been built. Rand himself was 
 believed to have a minor share in the enterprise ; he was 
 reckoned to be " a mighty smart business-man," and the 
 Squire took to him from the start. He had frequently come 
 down from Reading during the previous winter, but the
 
 244 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 natch had not been talked about until a few weeks befi re 
 it took place. They were going to Reading to live, the 
 landlord said, and the old folks were quite set up about k. 
 
 I gave a melancholy groan of relief, when I at last found 
 myself in bed, and surrounded by congenial darkness. I 
 fried to compose my thoughts to my accustomed prayer, 
 but the spectre I had invoked showed a blank where I 
 had once seen the face of God. Men were nothing but 
 accidental combinations of atoms, it said ; Life was a tem- 
 porary condition, and joy, sorrow, duty, love, were things 
 of education, unreal and perishable ; there was neither Vir- 
 tue nor Vice but in imagination, neither happiness nor 
 misery, nor anything positive but physical sensation and 
 that only while it lasted. So far from shrinking from these 
 suggestions, I took a fearful pleasure in following them to 
 their common termination, on the brink of that gulf where 
 all sentient existence melts into nothing, as smoke into air. 
 
 The next day I took the stage to Reading, performing 
 the journey in the same hardened, apathetic mood. There 
 was even, at times, a grim satisfaction in the thought that I 
 was now free from every emotion which could attach me to 
 my fellow-beings, free from the duties of blood, the ten- 
 der allegiance of love, the services of friendship. I saw 
 nothing but selfishness in the world ; I would be selfish too. 
 
 Reaching Reading in the evening, I took up my quarters 
 at the " Mansion House." I was in no mood to claim my 
 uncle's hospitality, although the grievance I had borne 
 against him now seemed a very insignificant thing. I was 
 neither afraid of him nor his efforts to procure me " a 
 change of heart." Nearly two years had elapsed since that 
 episode of my life, and I was beginning to see how much I 
 had exaggerated its character. I had no dread of the 
 approaching interview. Indeed, I so far relented towards 
 Aunt Peggy as to take a copy of my volume for presenta- 
 *ion to her. 
 
 When I went down Penn Street after breakfast, the next
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 245 
 
 . to the well-known corner, I saw that a change 
 which, nevertheless, did not surprise me had occurred in 
 the establishment. The old, weather-beaten sign had dis- 
 appeared, and in its place was a new one, white ground and 
 black letters, shaded with blue : " WOOLLEY AXD HIMPEL'? 
 GUOCKKY STOUK." Bolty was not so stupid as his heavy 
 face and sleepy eyes proclaimed. He had already made 
 his nest, and would not be long in feathering it comfort- 
 ably. 
 
 There he was, behind the counter, a little more brisk in 
 his movements than formerly, and with every bit of his 
 familiar loquacity. He was a trifle taller, and his white hair 
 was brushed straight up from his forehead instead of being 
 cut short His thick, pale lips hung half-open, as usual, and 
 his eyes expressed the same lazy innocence, but I fancied I 
 could see the commencement of a cunning wrinkle at their 
 corners. He wore a short jacket of grass-cloth, buttoned 
 in front which arrangement I admired, for I knew that the 
 bosom of his shirt was not wont to be in a presentable con- 
 dition. 
 
 As I appeared at the door, he recognized me at once. 
 Catch him, indeed, forgetting any face he had ever known ! 
 I suspect he still retained a sort of phlegmatic liking for 
 me, or at least was now satisfied that I could no longer 
 interfere with his plans, for he slipped along the counter 
 towards me with every appearance of cordiality, stretch- 
 ing out his fat hand as he cried, " Why, John Godfrey ! Is 
 that you now ? And you 've come back to see us, after so 
 long ! I declare I did n't know what had become o' you 
 but you 're lookin' well wery well better as ever I 
 see you. Yes, ma'am ! The ' Peruvian Preventative,' did 
 you say ? You could n't take nothin' better ; we sells cart- 
 loads o' boxes cart-loads, and the more people use 'em 
 the more they wants 'em ! " 
 
 He was off and waiting upon the customer, a woman 
 from the country, with very few front teeth and a sun-bon
 
 '246 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 net, before I could say a word. I was so amused uf thia 
 exhibition of his old habits, that, for the first time iu two 
 days, I felt the sensation of laughter creeping back to its 
 accustomed nook. Presently the woman left, and, the store 
 being now empty, Bolty returned to me. 
 
 " You was a little surprised, was n't you ? " he asked, " to 
 see my name over the door. It 's been up sence Easter, 
 and we 're doin' wery well wery well, indeed. 'T a'n't 
 much of an int'rest I Ve got, though, only a quarter, but 
 it 's a good beginnin'. The customers knows me, you see, 
 and they stick to me. Mr. Woolley 's got a good deal of 
 other business on his hands now." 
 
 " Yes," said I, " I have heard of it." 
 
 " Coal-lands ? Yes ; you Ve heerd right. Not that I 
 know much about it. He 's awful close, Mr. Woolley is, 
 keeps his own counsel, as he says, and Mulford and Rand's 
 too, I guess. But what have you a-been carryin' on ? You 
 look mighty smart, so I guess it ha'n't been a bad spec." 
 
 I told Bolty as much in reference to my position in New 
 York as I thought proper, and then asked for my uncle. 
 
 " He 's gone down to the canawl," said Bolty ; " but he '11 
 be back as soon as the Banks is open." 
 
 " Then I '11 go in an ' see Aunt Peggy." 
 
 I entered the little back-parlor. The sofa and chairs 
 were more shiny and slippery than ever, and a jagged abat- 
 tis of horse-hair was beginning to project from the edges 
 of the seats. There was no improvement in the atmos- 
 phere of the room since I had left ; nothing had been 
 taken away, and nothing added except a mezzotint of the 
 Rev. Mr. Mellowby, in a flat mahogany frame. My ami I 
 was not there, but I heard noises in the kitchen, and went 
 thither without further ceremony. 
 
 Aunt Peggy was bending over the stove, with a handker 
 chief around her head, an old calico apron over her dress, 
 a pot-lid in one hand and a pewter spoon in the other. 
 
 " Well, Aunt Peggy." said I, " how do you do by this 
 time?"
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 24? 
 
 She was very much surprised, of course ; but she trans 
 ferred the spoon to the hand which held the pot-lid, and 
 greeted me with a mixture of embarrassment and affection 
 A few tears certainly dropped from her eyes, but I knew 
 how easily they came, and did not feel encouraged to make 
 any great show of emotion. 
 
 " I 'm glad you 've come to see us, John," she said, in her 
 most melancholy tone. " Walk into the settin'-room. I 'd 
 like to hear that you don't bear malice against your rela- 
 tions, that meant to do for your good. It seemed hard, 
 goin' away the way you did." 
 
 " Oh, Aunt Peggy, let bygones be bygones. I dare say 
 you meant to do right, but it has turned out best as it is." 
 
 " I had mournin' enough," she said, " that things could n't 
 have gone as me and your uncle wanted; but I s'pose 
 we 've all got to have our trials and tribulations." 
 
 That was all we said about the matter. I was well 
 dressed, and gave a most favorable account of my worldly 
 prospects, and my aunt seemed considerably cheered and 
 relieved. I suspect that her conscience had been tormented 
 by the fear of her sister's son becoming a castaway, and that 
 she had therefore been troubled with doubts in regard to 
 the circumstances which drove me from her roof. My suc- 
 cess removed that trouble, at least Then I presented the 
 book, in which I had turned down leaves to mark a few 
 poems of a religious character, which I thought she might 
 read with some satisfaction. Such things as " The Lament 
 of HPFO," I knew, would be quite unintelligible to her. She 
 was greatly delighted with the present, promising to show 
 it to Mr. Cutler, the new minister. 
 
 We were getting on very pleasantly together, when my 
 uncle entered from the shop. As Bolty had apprised him 
 of my arrival, his face expressed more curiosity than sur- 
 prise. His greeting was cordial, but its cordiality did not 
 strike me as being entirely natural. His hair had grown 
 grayer, but there was no shade of difference in the var
 
 248 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 nished cheeks and the large tight mouth. Intercourse with 
 his new associates had already given him a mote worldly 
 air. It was certain that neither his unworthiness nor his 
 fortunate assurance of " grace " occupied his thoughts so 
 much as formerly. Considering what had passed between 
 us, I felt more at ease in his presence than I had antici- 
 pated. 
 
 " You look very well, John," said he. " I hope you have 
 been at least successful in temporal things." 
 
 He could not deny himself this insinuation, but I was no 
 longer sensitive on the point, and did not notice it Of 
 course, I represented my affairs to him in the most pros- 
 perous light, setting forth my promising chances for the 
 future, while feeling in my heart their utter hollowness and 
 vanity. 
 
 " Well, you 're settled at a business that seems to suit 
 you," he said. " That 's a good thing. You 've gone your 
 way and I 've gone mine, but there need not be any diffi- 
 culty between us." 
 
 " No, Uncle Amos," I replied. " I have learned to tak< 
 care of myself. The principal object of my visit is to re- 
 lieve you from all further trouble on my account." 
 
 " In what way ? " he asked. 
 
 " Why," I exclaimed, a little astonished, " don't you know 
 that I am twenty-one ? " 
 
 " Twenty-one ! Oh ah ! Yes, I see. Are you sure 
 of it ? I did not think it was so soon." 
 
 Somehow, his words made an unpleasant impression upon 
 me. I soon convinced him, by the mention of certain dates, 
 that I knew my own age, and then added, " I am now en- 
 titled to my money, you know. If you put out last year'? 
 interest, there must have been more than eighteen hundred 
 dollars due to me on the first of April." 
 
 " Yes." said he, " of course I put it out. But I really 
 did n't suppose you would want the capital at once. I did n't 
 hm, well make arrangements to have it ready at
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 24i' 
 
 moment's warning. You see, John, you should have noti- 
 fied me in the proper way beforehand. This, I may say, 
 is not notifying me at all. Besides, why should you want 
 the money now ? What will you do with it ? You surely 
 would n't think of speculating in the stock-market ; that 'd 
 be throwing it to the four winds. If you put it in the sav- 
 ings-bank, you '11 only get five per cent, instead of six, as 
 you get now. Why not let it be where it is ? Use the 
 interest if you want : I might advance you this year's, 
 though it 's put out too, but when you 've got your cap- 
 ital safe, keep it so." 
 
 " I wish to have my own money in my own hands," 1 
 answered, rather coldly. " I never supposed a notification 
 would be necessary, as you knew I was entitled to recei se 
 the money as soon as I came of age. I consider myself 
 capable of taking care of it, and even if I should lose it, 
 that is altogether my own business." 
 
 " Oh, no doubt, no doubt," said my uncle. He rubbed 
 his shiny cheek and stretched out his lower jaw, as if per- 
 plexed. " You are entitled to the money, that is all right 
 enough, but but it 's still out, and I don't see how I 
 could get it, just now." 
 
 " At any rate, you can transfer the bond or whatever 
 it is to me. That will be equivalent to the money, for 
 the present." 
 
 Uncle Amos grew very red in the face, and was silent 
 for a few minutes. His arm-chair seemed to be an uneasy 
 seat He looked at me once, but instantly turned his eyes 
 away on encountering mine. At last he said, " I can't 
 well do that, John, because it a'n't invested separately 
 it 's along with a good deal of my own. You see, it 's this 
 way, I '11 tell you all about it, and then I think you '11 be 
 satisfied to leave things as they are. I 've gone into an 
 operation with some other gentlemen, we keep rather 
 dark about it, and I don't want you to say anything, and 
 ire 've bought up a big tract of land in Monroe County
 
 250 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 among the mountains, where there 's sure to be coal. It 
 a'n't worth much now, but when the railroad is opened, 
 there 's no telling what we may n't sell out for. The road '9 
 pretty sure to be put through in a year or two, and then 
 the loss of interest in the mean time will be nothing in 
 comparison to the profit we shall make by the operation. 
 There are ten thousand acres in all, and I was put down 
 for one thousand ; but there were other expenses, surveyors, 
 and we had to pay a geologist a big price to take a quiet 
 Hook at the place ; so I had n't enough of my own, without 
 putting yours with it. I intend you shall go share and 
 share with me in the profits. You may get six hundred, 
 or six thousand per cent, instead of six. Don't you see 
 how much better that will be for you ? " 
 
 " No, I don't ! " I cried. I was again thunderstruck, and 
 the bitter tumult of my feelings began to rage anew. " I 
 see only this, that you had no right to touch a cent of my 
 money. It was put in your charge by my poor mother, to 
 be returned to me when it should become due, not to be 
 risked in some mad speculation of yours, about which I 
 know nothing except that one infernal scoundrel at least 
 is engaged in it ! You to warn me against risking it in 
 stocks, indeed ! If you meant me to go share and share 
 with you, why did you ask me to be satisfied with six per 
 cent. ? " 
 
 My uncle's eyes fell at these words. I saw my advan- 
 tage, and felt a wicked delight in thus holding him at my 
 mercy. His face looked clammy, and his chin dropped, 
 giving a peculiarly cowed, helpless expression to his mouth 
 When he spoke, there was a tone in his voice which I 
 had never before heard. 
 
 " I know, John," he said, " that you don't like me overly, 
 and perhaps you won't believe what I say ; but, indeed, I 
 did mean to share the profits with you. I thought, only, 
 if you 'd leave the money in my hands, I would n't say any- 
 thing about the operation yet awhile. It 's done now, and 
 can't be helped."
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 251 
 
 * Why not ? " I asked. " You can borrow the money, on 
 your house and store. Give me what belongs to me, and 
 you may keep all the profits of your ' operation,' if you 
 ever get any ! " 
 
 He looked around with an alarmed air, carefully closed 
 the kitchen-door, and then, resuming his seat, bent forward 
 and whispered, " I had to do that, as it was. I raised all 
 I could all the property would bear. It was 'most too 
 much for me, and I could n't have turned the corner if I 
 had n't sold out a quarter interest in the grocery to Bolty. 
 I wish you could understand it as I do, you 'd see that 
 it 's a sure thing, perfectly sure." 
 
 It was enough for me that Bratton, Mulford, and the 
 Rands were concerned in the business. That fact stamped 
 it, in my mind, as a cheat and a swindle, and my uncle, it 
 seemed, was no better than the others. I was fast harden- 
 ing into an utter disbelief in human honesty. It was not 
 so much the loss of the money which I felt, though even 
 that had a sanctity about it as the double bequest of my 
 dead father and mother, which I had hoped would bring 
 me a blessing with its use. I had learned to earn my 
 living, and knew that I should not suffer ; but I was 
 again the dupe of imposition, the innocent victim of out- 
 rage. 
 
 I was conscious of a strong bodily chill : the teeth chat- 
 tered in my head. I rose from my seat, turned to him for 
 the last time, and said, " Amos Woolley, you know that 
 you have acted dishonestly, that you have broken your 
 trust, both to my mother and me. I thought once that 
 you were trying sincerely to serve God in your own blind, 
 bigoted way ; but now I see that Mammon is your master. 
 Get you a change of heart before you preach it to others. 
 I will not prosecute and ruin you, by showing to the world 
 your true character, though you seem to have cared little 
 whether or not I was ruined by your act. If you should 
 ever repent and become honest, you will restore me mj
 
 252 JOHX GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 inheritance ; but, until you do it, I shall not call you ' uncle, 
 I shall not take your hand, I shall not enter your door ! " 
 
 His chin dropped lower, and his eyes were fixed on me 
 with a reproachful expression, as he listened to my sharp 
 words. I put on my hat and turned towards the door. 
 " John ! " he cried, " you are wrong you will one day be 
 sorry for what you have said." 
 
 Aunt Peggy at that moment entered from the kitchen 
 " You 're not goin' away, John ? " she said ; " you '11 come 
 back to dinner at twelve ? " 
 
 " No, aunt," I answered ; " I shall probably never come 
 back again to see you. Good-bye ! " And I picked up her 
 hanging hand. 
 
 " What ails you ? What has happened ? " 
 
 a Ask your husband." 
 
 I went into the store, closing the door behind me. When 
 I saw Bolty's face I felt sure that he had been eavesdrop- 
 ping. He did not seem surprised that I was going away, 
 and I fancied there was something constrained and artifi- 
 cial in his parting, " Come back right soon, and see us 
 again ! " Perhaps I wronged him, but I was not in a 
 mood to put the best construction upon anybody's acts cr 
 words. 
 
 I walked up Penn Street at a rapid rate, looking neither 
 to the right nor left, and found myself, before J knew it, 
 high up on the side of Penn's Mount, beyond and above 
 the city. The walk had chased away the chill and stag- 
 nation of my blood. I was flushed and panting, and choos- 
 ing a shady bank, I sat down and looked once more upon 
 the broad, magnificent landscape. I was glad that my 
 brain, at last, had become weary of thought that I could 
 behold the sparkle of the river and the vanishing blue of 
 the mountains with no more touch of sentiment or feeling 
 than the ox grazing beside me. I accepted my fortune 
 with an apathy which, it seemed, nothing could ever break. 
 If I could but live thus. I said, seeing men as so many
 
 - T OHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 253 
 
 black mites In the streets of yonder city, hearing only a 
 confused hum of life, in which the individual voice of every 
 passion is lost, and be content myself with the simple 
 knowledge of my existence and the sensations which be- 
 long to it, I might still experience a certain amount of 
 happiness.
 
 254 -701! N T GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 IK WHICH 1 DINE WITH MR. CLARENDON AND MAKE THR 
 ACQUAINTANCE OF MR. BRANDAGEE. 
 
 I WAS back again at my post before my stipulated leave 
 of absence had expired. Mr. Clarendon was evidently sur- 
 prised, but not disagreeably so, at my unexpected return, 
 and, when I reported myself to him in his private office, 
 asked me to take a seat, a thing he had never done since 
 my first interview. Beyond an occasional scolding, varied 
 by a brief word of commendation, my intercourse with him 
 had been very limited, but I had acquired a profound re 
 spect both for his character and his judgment- 
 After I was seated, he laid down his pen, pushed the long 
 slips of paper to one side, and looked at me across the 
 table. 
 
 " How old are you, Godfrey ? " he asked, after a pause. 
 
 " Just twenty-one." 
 
 " So much the better. You have plenty of time yet to 
 find out what you can do best. Or are you like most young 
 men who can write a little, and suppose that you are capa- 
 ble of everything ? " 
 
 " I never supposed that," I protested. 
 
 " I have looked through your book," he continued. [1 
 had presented him with a copy soon after its publication.] 
 " It is about like nine-tenths of the poetry that is published 
 nowadays, a good deal of genuine feeling and sentiment, 
 but no art. Judging by the degree of literary cultivation 
 in the public, which I have had a fair opportunity of 
 learning, I should think it would be generally liked. Bui
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES 26 
 
 I don't want you to be misled by this fact. You have a 
 ready pen ; your talents are quick and flexible, and, with 
 proper schooling, you may become a useful and successful 
 newspaper writer. But I don't think you will ever achieve 
 distinction as a poet. Are you not very fond of reading 
 Moore, Scott, and Mrs. Hemans ? " 
 
 I assented, with a mixture of surprise and embarrass- 
 ment. Mr. Clarendon's unfavorable opinion, however, af- 
 fected me much less than it would have done a fortnight 
 sooner. 
 
 " Let me advise you," he said, " to drop those authors for 
 a while, and carefully read "Wordsworth. I would not ask 
 you to cease writing, for I know the request would be use- 
 less ; and, except in the way of fostering a mistaken am- 
 bition, it can do you no harm. Your prose style will be 
 none the worse from the greater compactness of thought 
 and the richer vocabulary which poetry gives. Only," he 
 added, with a smile, " pray keep the two in separate boxes. 
 It is a great mistake to mix them as some writers do." 
 
 I assured Mr. Clarendon that I was by no means certain 
 of my vocation ; that the volume was an experiment, which 
 seemed to me to be tolerably successful, but I did not sup- 
 pose it finally settled the question. I was greatly obliged 
 for his good opinion of my talents, and would read Words- 
 worth as he recommended. I was then about to withdraw 
 from the room, but he detained me a moment longer. 
 
 " I am going to propose a change in your duties," he said. 
 " You are now familiar with the composition of a newspaper, 
 and can do better service, I think, in the City Department 
 It is not so mechanical as your former work, requires 
 quickness, correctness, and a sprightly style. You will be 
 much out-of-doors, of course, and you may find it a little 
 harassing at the start. But there will be an increase of 
 salary, and you must expect to earn it" 
 
 I willingly accepted the proposal, for, to be candid, I was 
 getting tired of the monotony of " condensing the miscella
 
 256 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 neons." The increase of my salary to fifteen dollars a weefc 
 was also welcome. My satisfaction in saving a portion 
 of my earnings was gone, but a gloomier motive supplied 
 its place. It was well to be independent of the selfish race 
 of men, to work out the proud and contemptuous liberty 
 which I proposed to myself as my sole future aim. 
 
 Mrs. Very welcomed me back with the empressement due 
 to a member of her domestic circle. Mr. Mortimer shook 
 hands with me as we went down to dinner, with an air whicl 1 
 said, " I admit your equality ; " and Mrs. Mortimer bent hei 
 neck some three quarters of an inch more than usual, as 
 she allowed her tightly gloved hand to rest for a second in 
 mine. Miss Dunlap being absent on a visit to her friends 
 in the country, my seat fell next to Miss Tatting, who made 
 loud and particular inquiries as to how I found my rela- 
 tives, and was it a nice part of the country, and which way 
 do you go to get there, and did the ladies come to New 
 York to buy their trimmings, all of which I could have 
 well spared. Swansford, I could see, was truly happy to 
 have me again as his vis-a-vis, and in spite of my determi- 
 nation to trust no human being, I could not help acknowl- 
 edging that he really seemed to think himself my friend. 
 When we had talked for an hour or two, in the attic, I was 
 almost sure that he was, and that I was his. The numb, 
 steady ache of my wounds was beginning to tire me ; I 
 longed to cry out, even though I were heard. 
 
 It was a still, sultry evening. "We sat together at the 
 window until the stars came out, and looked down on the 
 felt partitions between the back-yards, and the mosquitoes 
 began to rise from a neighboring rain-water cistern. Swans- 
 ford had played to me his last composition, something in 
 the minor key, as usual, and I felt the hardness and cold- 
 ness of my mood give way. 
 
 " Come, old fellow," I said, " I am five dollars a week 
 richer than I was. Let us go out and baptize the circum* 
 stance."
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S fORTUNES. 257 
 
 He was quite ready to join me. He had a pinched and 
 hungry look ; 31 rs. Very's provender was not adapted tv, 
 his delicate taste, and there were days when he scarcely ate 
 enough to support life. We walked up the Bowery, arm 
 in ann. crossed through Grand Street to Broadway, and 
 finally descended into a glittering cellar under the Metro- 
 politan Hotel. I had resolved to be as splendid as pos- 
 sible. It was not long before we wer^ installed in a little 
 room, as white and bright as paint an 1 gas could make it, 
 with dishes of soft-shell crabs and lettuce before us, and a 
 bottle of champagne, in ice, on the floor. 
 
 I had a presentiment that I should tell Swansford every- 
 thing, and I did. But it was not until the crabs and lettuce 
 had disappeared, and an additional half-bottle found its way 
 to the cooler. I had no fault to find with his sympathy. 
 He echoed my bitterest denunciations of the treachery and 
 selfishness of men. but would not quite admit the utter 
 falsehood of women, nor, moreover, my claim to be con- 
 sidered the most wronged of human beings. 
 
 " What can be worse ? " I cried, quite reckless whether 
 or not my voice was heard in the neighboring stalls. " Can 
 you tell me of any harder blow than that ? I don't believe 
 it!" 
 
 There were tears of outraged love in my eyes, and his 
 seemed to be filling too. He shook his head mournfully, 
 and said, " Yes, Godfrey, there is a worse fate than yours. 
 Your contempt for her will soon heal your love : but think, 
 now. if she were true, if she were all of womanly purity and 
 sweetness that you ever dreamed her to be, if you knew that 
 she could never love but yourself, and then, if she were 
 forced by her heartless family to marry another ! Think 
 what it would be to know her, day and night, given to him, 
 to still believe that her heart turned to you as yours to 
 her,- to add endless pity and endless agony to the yearn- 
 ing of love ! " 
 
 His hands were tightly clasped on the table before him, 
 17
 
 258 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 and the tears were running down his thin cheeks as he 
 spoke. I knew his story now, and my pity for his suffer- 
 ings beguiled me into semi-forgetfulness of my own. I was 
 unable to speak, but stretched out my hand and grasped 
 his. Our palms met in a close, convulsive pressure, and 
 we knew that we were thenceforth friends. 
 
 The next day I was both surprised and flattered on 
 receiving an invitation to dine with Mr. Clarendon. Mr. 
 Severn, who shared the honor, stated to me confidentially, 
 " He would n't have done it, if he did n't look upon you as 
 one of our stock workers." It was one of his Wonder din- 
 ners, as they were called, embracing only gentlemen con- 
 nected in some way with the paper. He was in the habit 
 of giving three or four every year, a large anniversary 
 dinner in the winter, and smaller ones at intervals of three 
 months. Mr. Horrocks, the chief editor of the Avenger, 
 gave similar entertainments to his subordinates, and there 
 was a standing dispute between them and us of the Wonder 
 as to which gentleman had the honor of originating the 
 custom. 
 
 I dressed myself in my best to do fitting honor to the 
 occasion, and punctually as the clock struck six rang the 
 bell of Mr. Clarendon's door, on Washington Square. A 
 mulatto gentleman, with a dress-coat rather finer than my 
 own, ushered me into the drawing-room, which was empty. 
 Mr. Clarendon, however, immediately made his appearance 
 and received me with great heartiness of manner. He had 
 entirely put off his official fixity of face and abruptness of 
 speech, and I hardly knew him in his new character of the 
 amiable, genial host. 
 
 " We shall have but few guests to-day," he said, " as my 
 family leaves for Newport next week. Mrs. Clarendon and 
 my niece will join us at dinner, and there will be another 
 young lady, T believe. Mr. Brandagee and yourself are 
 the only bachelors, and I must look to you to entertain 
 them."
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 25? 
 
 He smiled as he said this, and I felt that I ought to smile 
 and say something polite in return ; but the effort, I am 
 afraid, must have resulted in a dismal grin. I was not in a 
 condition to sit down and entertain a young lady with flip 
 pant and elegant nothings. However, there was already a 
 rustling at the other end of the room, and three ladies 
 advanced towards us. First, Mrs. Clarendon, a ripe, buxom 
 blond of forty, in dark-blue silk, altogether a cheery 
 apparition. Then the niece, Miss Weldon, tall, slender, 
 with a long face, high forehead, black eyes, and smooth, 
 dark hair. She had the air of a daughter, which I presume 
 she was, by adoption. Mr. Clarendon had but one child, 
 a son, who was then at Harvard. Miss "Weldon's friend, as 
 I judged her to be, was a Miss Haworth (I think that was 
 the name I know it reminded me of Mary Chaworth), a 
 quiet creature, with violet eyes, and light hair, rippled on 
 the temples. Her face seemed singularly familiar to me, 
 and yet I knew I had never seen her before. I mutely 
 bowed to both the young ladies, and then turned to answer 
 a remark of Mrs. Clarendon, inwardly rejoicing that she 
 had saved me from them. 
 
 Mr. Severn presently entered, carrying his unhappy face 
 even to the festive board. He had the air of being, as he 
 
 O' 
 
 perhaps was, permanently overworked, and was afflicted 
 with the habit, which he exercised unconsciously, of fre- 
 quently putting his hand on his side and heaving a deep 
 sigh. Yet he was a shrewd, intelligent fellow, and, although 
 usually a languid, hesitating talker, there were accidental 
 moments when he flashed into respectable brilliancy. After 
 the greetings were over, I was glad to see that he addressed 
 himself to the niece, leaving Mrs. Clarendon to me. 
 
 It was a quarter past six, and Mr. Clarendon began to 
 show signs of impatience. " Withering stays," said he tc 
 his wife ; " as for Brandagee, I should not much wonder if 
 he had forgotten all about it He seems to have the run 
 of a great many houses."
 
 260 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 A violent ringing of the bell followed his words, and thfl 
 two delinquents entered together. I already knew Mr. 
 Withering, and felt grateful to him for his kindly notice of 
 my volume, but he was not otherwise attractive to me. He 
 was a man of thirty-six, with a prematurely dry, solemn air. 
 He wore a full, dark-brown beard, and his thick hair was 
 parted in the middle, so as to hide two curious knobs on his 
 temples. I used to wonder what Miss Hitchcock would 
 predict from those organs: I was sure there were no 
 bumps of the kind on my own skull. Perhaps they repre- 
 sented the critical faculty, for Mr. Withering never wrote 
 anything but notices of books. He read all the English 
 reviews, and was quite a cyclopaedia of certain kinds of 
 information ; but, somehow, a book, in passing through his 
 alembic, seemed to exhale its finer aroma, to part with its 
 succulent juices, and become more or less mummified. 
 Names, at the sound of which I felt inclined to bow the 
 knee, raffed from his tongue as dryly as salts and acids 
 from a chemist's, and I never conversed with him without 
 feeling that my imaginative barometer had fallen several 
 degrees. 
 
 Mr. Brandagee was barely known to me by name. He 
 was the author of several dashing musical articles, which 
 had been published in the Wonder, during the opera season, 
 and had created a temporary sensation. Since then he had 
 assailed Mr. Bellows, the great tragedian, in several sketch- 
 es characterized rather by wit and impertinence than pro- 
 found dramatic criticism : but everybody read and enjoyed 
 them none the less. He was said to be the scion of a rich 
 and aristocratic family in New-Haven, had passed through 
 college with high honors, and afterwards spent several 
 years and a moderate fortune in rambling all over Europe 
 and the East. He had now adopted journalism, it was 
 reported, as an easy mode of making his tastes and his 
 talents support him in such splendor as was still possible, 
 
 He made his salutations with a jolly self-possession a
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 261 
 
 noisy, flashy glitter of sentences which quite threw tht 
 rest of us into the shade. The ladies, I saw. were speciaiu 
 interested in making his acquaintance. When dinner was 
 announced, he carried off Mrs. Clarendon, without waiting 
 for the host's beckon or looking behind him. Mr. With- 
 ering followed with Miss Weldon, and then Mr. Clarendon 
 offered his arm to Miss Haworth. Severn, pressing hi.s 
 side, and heaving profound sighs, brought up the rear with 
 me. I hastened to take the unoccupied seat at Mrs. Clar- 
 endon's left hand, though it did not properly belong to me. 
 The lady was too well-bred even to look her dissatisfaction, 
 and Mr. Withering was thus interposed between me and 
 the niece. 
 
 My share of the entertainment was easily performed. 
 Mr. Brandagee, on tne opposite side, monopolized the con- 
 versation from the start, and I had nothing to do but look 
 and listen, in the intervals of the dinner. The man's face 
 interested me profoundly. It was not handsome, it could 
 hardly be called intellectual, it was very irregular : I could 
 almost say that it was disagreeable, and yet, it was so 
 mobile, it ran so rapidly through striking contrasts of 
 expression, and was so informed with a restless, dazzling 
 life, that I could not turn my eyes away from it His fore- 
 head was sloping, narrowing rapidly from the temples down 
 to the brows, his eyes dark-gray and deeply set, and his 
 nose very long and straight, the nostrils cut back sharply 
 on either side, like the barbs of an arrow. His upper lip 
 was very short, and broken in from the line of his profile, 
 as if he had been kicked there by a horse when a child. 
 It was covered with a moustache no thicker than an eye- 
 brow, short, stubby hairs, that seemed to resist growth, 
 and resembled, at a little distance, a coarse black powder. 
 The under lip and chin, on the contrary, projected consid- 
 erably, and the latter feature terminated in a goat-like tuft 
 of hair. His cheeks were almost bare of beard. When 
 he spoke slowly, his voice seemed to catch somewhere in
 
 262 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 the upper jaw and be diverted through his nose, but as h 
 became lively and spirited in conversation, it grew clear 
 and shrill. It was not an agreeable voice : the deep, mel 
 low chest-notes were wanting. 
 
 The impression he made upon me was just the reverse 
 of what I had felt on first meeting Penrose. The latter re- 
 pelled me, in spite of the strong attraction of his beauty , 
 but Mr. Brandagee repelled me in every feature, yet at the 
 same time drew me towards him with a singular fascination. 
 His language was bold, brilliant, full of startling paradoxes 
 and unexpected grotesquenesses of fancy ; withal, he was 
 so agile and adroit of fence that it was almost impossible 
 to pin him except by weapons similar to his own. It 
 seemed to me that Mr. Clarendon at once admired and 
 disliked him. The ladies, however, were evidently capti- 
 vated by his brilliancy, and helped him to monopolize the 
 attention of the table. 
 
 He had just completed a very witty and amusing de- 
 scription of Alexandre Dumas, and there was a lull in the 
 talk, while a wonderful mayonnaise was brought upon the 
 table, when Miss Weldon, bending around Mr. Withering, 
 addressed him with, 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Brandagee, did you ever hear Rubini ? " 
 
 " I did" said he. " Not on the stage. I 'm hardly old 
 enough for that, if you please. But when I was living in 
 Turin, I called one evening on my old friend, Silvio Pel- 
 lico, and found him dressed to go out. Now I knew that 
 he lived like a hermit, I had never seen him before in 
 swallow-tails, so I started back and said, ' cos e ? ' 'To 
 Count Arrivamale's,' says he, ' and only for Hubini's sake.' 
 Will Rubini be there ? ' I yelled ; ' hold on a minute ! ' I 
 took the first fiacre I could find, gave the fellow five lire 
 extra, galloped home and jumped into my conventionalities, 
 snatched up Silvio, and off we drove to Arrivamale's to- 
 gether. True enough, Rubini was there, old and well pre- 
 served, but he sang and I heard him ! "
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 26S 
 
 " What did you think of his singing ? " asked the de- 
 lighted Miss Weldon. 
 
 "All Jioriture. The voice was in rags and tatters, but 
 the method was there. You know how Benedetti sings the 
 finale of Lucia ? lifting up his fists and carrying the so*- 
 tenuto the whole breadth of the stage ; well, Rubini 
 would have kept it dancing up and down, and whirling 
 round and round, like a juggler with four brass balls in the 
 air. That was what he sang, and I shall never forget the 
 bell' alma innamora-ha-ha-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-ah-ha-ha-ta ! " 
 
 There was a general shout of laughter at this burlesque 
 imitation of poor Rubini, which Mr. Brandagee gave in a 
 cracked falsetto. There seemed to be no end to his accom- 
 plishments. After taking a fork-full of the mayonnaise, he 
 turned to Mrs. Clarendon with an enthusiastic face, ex- 
 claiming, " Admirable ! I congratulate you on your cook ; 
 or is Mr. Clarendon himself the author ? It is a part of 
 my credo that the composition of a salad requires a high 
 order of intellect, as well as character, tact, and the instincts 
 of a gentleman. Horace, Cervantes, and Shakspeare would 
 have been good hands at it ; St. Paul would have done it 
 splendidly ! " 
 
 In spite of what had gone before, I was startled and 
 shocked at this, and I believe Mrs. Clarendon did not like 
 the irreverence. But Mr. Brandagee rattled on without 
 regarding her, " It is n't modest in me to proclaim my 
 own skill, but, then, nobody ever accused me of modesty. 
 Modesty is an inconvenient article for gentlemen's use. I 
 am prouder of my triumph at the Trois Freres than of any- 
 thing else in my life. There were only three of us, Paul 
 de Kock and poor Alfred de Musset When we c.une to the 
 salad I saw their eyes sparkle ; so much the better I had 
 planned a surprise. So I picked up the dish, turned it 
 around, smelled it suspiciously, pulled it about a little with 
 a fork, and then said to the garfon, ' otez fa!' I wish 
 you could have seen their faces ; I am sure De Kocl
 
 264 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 ground ' barbare ! ' between his teeth. But I promised to 
 give them a substitute, started them on their old, everlast- 
 ing dispute about the battle of Zara, one maintained that 
 there had been such a battle, and the other that there had 
 n't, got the ingredients I wanted, and set to work. They 
 were hard at it, throwing Barbarossa and Dandolo, and 1 
 don't know who else, across the table at each other's heads, 
 when I put their plates before them and said, ' essayez ! ' 
 Each of them made a grimace, and took a little morsel 
 with an air of suspicion. When they had fairly tasted it, 
 they looked at each other for a full minute without saying 
 a word. Then De Kock drew a long breath and cried out, 
 incroyable ! ' and De Musset answered, ' enorme ! ' We 
 shook hands all around, with tears in our eyes, and always 
 tutoyed each other from that very night. Poor De Mus- 
 set!" 
 
 After the ladies had withdrawn, cigars were brought on 
 the table. Mr. Clarendon, I noticed, did not smoke, and I 
 thought he seemed pleased that I followed his example. 
 Mr. Severn and Mr. Withering puffed their cigars deli- 
 cately and cautiously, and drew nearer to their chief, while 
 Mr. Brandagee, blowing a great cloud, poured out a glass 
 of claret and then pushed the decanter across to me. 
 
 " They are talking over Wonder matters," he said, taking 
 Mrs. Clarendon's chair. " That is very fair Lafitte ; try it. 
 But I prefer Clos-Vougeot after dinner." 
 
 I took a glass of the wine rather than confess my igno 
 ranee of the proper thing, in the presence of such an au- 
 thority. 
 
 " By the way," he asked, " are you the Mr. Godfrey who 
 has just published a volume of poems ? I read Wither- 
 ing's notice of it ; I wish you would send me a copy." 
 
 I gratefully promised to comply. 
 
 " I think we all begin in that way. I published, in my 
 senior year, 'Alcibiades at Syracuse ; ' don't say you Ve 
 heard of it, because I know you have n't I have not seen
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 2W 
 
 the thing for ten years, but I dare say it 's insufferable 
 trash. Poetry does n't pay. Do you know there are not 
 six poets in the world who could live on the profits of their 
 verses ? " 
 
 "But it is not money alone," I began, and then 
 stopped, seeing the ends of his projecting under-lip curl 
 around the ends of the short upper one, in a peculiar 
 mocking smile. 1 felt instantly how green and senti 
 mental I must appear in his experienced eyes. 
 
 " I know all you were going to say," he remarked, no- 
 ticing my silence. " I was tarred with the same brush, ages 
 ago. It 's pretty well scrubbed out of me, but I recognize 
 the smell. You believe in fame, in a sort of profane com- 
 ing-down of the fiery tongues, don't you ? You 've been 
 anointed, and shampooed, and brushed, and combed by 
 some barber-Apollo, for an elegant ' mission,' have n't you ? 
 And the unwashed and uncombed multitude will turn up 
 their noses and scent you afar off, and say to each other, 
 ' Let us stand aside that The Poet may pass ! ' " 
 
 I was too dazzled by the grotesque fancy of the image to 
 feel much hurt by its irony. On the contrary, I was curi- 
 ous to know what a man, whose youth, he confessed, had 
 known dreams similar to mine, now thought of Literature 
 and of Life, after such a large experience of both. I 
 therefore laughed, and said, " I don't expect any such rec- 
 ognition as that ; but is it not better to have some faith 
 in the work you undertake ? Could any one be a good poet 
 who despised his mission, instead of believing in it ? " 
 
 " The greatest poet of this generation," he said, " is 
 Heine, who is n't afraid to satirize himself, who treats his 
 poetic faculty very much as Swift treated Celia. The mis- 
 sion, and the anointing, and all that, are pleasant supersti- 
 tions, I admit ; but one can't live in the world and hold on 
 to them. The man who is n't afraid to look at the naked 
 truth, under all this surface flummery, is the master. You 
 believe, I suppose, that all men are naturally kind, and
 
 266 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 good, and honest, that politicians are pure patriots, and 
 clergymen are saints, and merchants never take advantage 
 of each other's necessities, that all married couples love 
 each other, and all young lovers will be true till death " 
 
 I could not bear this. My blood was up, and I inter- 
 rupted him with a passionate earnestness which contrasted 
 strangely with the cold-blooded, negligent cynicism of his 
 manner. 
 
 " I am not quite such a fool as that," I said. " 1 believe 
 (hat men, and women too, are naturally selfish and bad. I 
 have no particular respect for them ; and if I should desire 
 fame, it would only be for the sake of making them respect 
 me." 
 
 He looked at me more attentively than before, and I felt 
 that his keen gray eyes were beginning to spy out my se- 
 cret wound. I took another sip of the claret, in the hope 
 of turning aside his scrutiny. This movement, also, he 
 seemed to understand, but could not resist imitating it. He 
 filled his glass, emptied it, and then turned to me with, 
 
 " So, you would like to be respected by those for whom 
 you have no respect. What satisfaction is there in that ? " 
 
 " Not much, I know," I answered ; " but if they honored 
 me for saying what I feel to be true and good, I should 
 think better of them." 
 
 " Ho, ho ! That 's it, is it ? Your logic is equal to the 
 puzzle of Epimenides and the Cretans. You despise men ; 
 therefore they respect you ; therefore you respect them. 
 I should n't wonder if you had gone through the converse 
 experience, to arrive at such a conclusion." 
 
 I was quite bewildered by his rapid, flashy sentences, and 
 knew not how to reply. Besides, I saw how keenly ht 
 tracked my expressions back to their source in my life, and 
 made a feeble effort to throw him off the scent. 
 
 " Then you don't think a literary reputation is worth 
 having?" I said. 
 
 " By all means ; it is positive capital, in a certain waj
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 267 
 
 It makes publishers indorse your promissory notes, opens 
 the doors of theatres and opera-houses to you, supplies you 
 with dinners without end, gives you the best rooms in ho- 
 tels, sometimes complimentary passes on steamboats and 
 railways; in the words of the pious, smooths the asperi- 
 ties of this life, and does you no harm in the world beyond 
 the grave. I should n't in the least object to those advan- 
 tages. But if only the school-gijls weep over my pages, 
 and pencil the words ' sweet ! ' and ' beautiful ! ' on the mar- 
 gin, their tears and their remarks won't butter my bread. 
 I 'd rather sit on velvet, like Reynolds the Great, propped 
 up by forty-seven flash romances, than starve, like Burns, 
 and have the pilgrims come to kneel on my bones. Fame 's 
 a great humbug. ' Who hath it ? he that died o' Wednes 
 day ! ' " 
 
 I was not prepared to disagree with him. His words 
 gave direction to the reflux of my feelings from their warm, 
 trusting outflow. I acknowledged the authority which his 
 great knowledge of life conferred ; and though his hard, 
 mocking tone still affected me unpleasantly, I was desirous 
 to hear more of views which might one day be my own. 
 
 " Then there is no use in having any ambition ? " I re- 
 marked. 
 
 " Cela depend. If a man feels the better for it, let him 
 have it. Theophile Gautier used to say, there are but three 
 divinities Youth, Wealth, and Beauty. Substitute Health 
 for Beauty, and I agree with him. I have no beauty ; 
 I 'm as ugly as sin, but I don't find that it makes any differ- 
 ence, either with women or men. Give me health and 
 wealth, and I '11 be as handsome as the Antinous. One 
 must get old some day ; but even then, what is given to 
 youth can be bought for age. Hallo ! the Lafitte is out. 
 Stretch down your arm and get the other decanter. Severn 
 won't miss it." 
 
 I did as he requested, and Mr. Clarendon, noticing the 
 movement, got up and took a seat near me. " Brandagee,'
 
 268 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 he said, " I hope you have not been putting any mischiof 
 into Godfrey's head." 
 
 " I have none to spare," he replied. " I am keeping it 
 bottled up for my article on Mrs. Pudge in Ophelia. By- 
 the-by, it 's nine o'clock. I must go down to Niblo's to see 
 her once more in the mad scene. These are capital Figa- 
 ros, Mr. Clarendon. I '11 take another, to give me a start 
 on the article." 
 
 He took six, went into the drawing-room to take leave 
 of the ladies, and departed. 
 
 " A brilliant fellow," said Mr. Clarendon, " but spoiled 
 by over-praise when young, and indulgence abroad." 
 
 " He 's good company, though," said Severn. 
 
 As for myself, I found myself mentally repeating his 
 words, on the way home. Youth, health, and wealth was 
 he not right ? What else was there to be enjoyed, at 
 least for me ?
 
 JOHN GODFREYS FORTUNES. 26S 
 
 CHAPTER XXL 
 
 EN WHICH I ATTEND MRS. YORKTON'S RECEPTION. 
 
 A FKW days after the dinner, Mr. Brandagee, being it 
 the Wonder office to read the proof of his article on Mrs. 
 Pudge, came to my desk and entered into conversation. I 
 had just completed my graphic description of the fall, 
 death, and removal of an omnibus-horse on the slipper)' 
 pavement of Broadway (an item afterwards copied in all 
 the country papers), and had half an hour to spare, in the 
 course of which time quite a pleasant familiarity was estab- 
 lished between us. He had looked over my book, which 
 he pronounced better than " Alcibiades at Syracuse," to the 
 best of his recollection. As he was leaving, he said, 
 
 " Do you go to Mrs. Yorkton's on Friday evening ? " 
 
 Mrs. Yorkton ? " 
 
 " Yes the poetess. Though she mostly writes under 
 the signature of * Adeliza Choate.' " 
 
 Was it possible ? Adeliza Choate, the rival of my 
 boyish ambition, the sister of my first poetic dreams ! I 
 had always imagined her as a lovely, dark-eyed girl, with 
 willowy tresses and a lofty brow. And she was Mrs. York- 
 ton, married, and giving receptions on Friday evenings ! 
 That fact seemed to bring her down to common earth, to 
 obscure the romantic nimbus in which my fancy had envel- 
 oped her form ; yet I none the less experienced a violent 
 desire to see her. 
 
 " Oh ! " I exclaimed, " I have read her poems, but I dc 
 not know her personally. I should very much like to go." 
 
 " Nothing easier : I '11 tako you. Friday night, remera-
 
 <?70 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 her. She lives in Fourth Street, and you may as well call 
 at the Smithsonian for me. Come early. I had a note 
 from her this morning, and she wants me to be there b\ 
 eight o'clock, to assist her in some deuce of a mysterious 
 arrangement. She always gets up some sentimental clap- 
 trap or other ' to start conversation in intellectual chan- 
 nels,' she says. You Ml find all the literary small fry on 
 hand, Smithers, Danforth, Clara Collady, and the like. 
 You need n't dress particularly, it 's quite Bohemian. 
 Smithers always wears a scarlet cravat, and an old black 
 velvet coat, with half the buttons off." 
 
 This information was rather attractive than otherwise. 
 It denoted a proper scorn of conventionalities, which I had 
 always looked upon as one of the attributes of genius. A 
 side-door, at least, was now opened for me into the en- 
 chanted circle which I so longed to enter. The antici- 
 pation of the event diverted my mind from its gloomy 
 apathy, and helped me along more swiftly through the 
 weary days. 
 
 Fortunately, when the evening arrived, there was no 
 moral, charitable, political, or religious meeting to report, 
 no pyrotechnic display or torch-light procession to describe, 
 and I could venture to be absent from the office until 
 midnight, at which time I was obliged to revise the fires 
 and accidents. Notwithstanding Mr. Brandagee's hint as to 
 costume, I put on my evening dress, and sprinkled my 
 handkerchief with jockey-club. Reaching the Smithsonian 
 at half-past seven, I found my chaperon in his room on the 
 third story, reading a volume of Balzac, with his feet on a 
 chair and a mint-julep at his elbow. 
 
 " By Jove, I forgot ! " he exclaimed, jumping up. " Damn 
 Adeliza Choate and the whole tribe ! I 'd ten thousand 
 times rather go on with La Peau de Chagrin, But it won't 
 do to have you get out of your bandbox for nothing, God 
 frey. Whew ! You have come from Araby the Blest, 
 will you let me ' pursue your triumph and partake yom
 
 JOHN GODFREYS FORTUNES. 271 
 
 gale ? ' Adeliza will have a sonnet ' To J. G.' in the nexl 
 ' Hesperian,' commencing, 
 
 ' On thine ambrosial locks my heart reclines.' " 
 
 But he changed his coat and brushed his black hail 
 while talking, and we set out for the eastern part of Fourth 
 Street. The Yorkton Mecca was a low and somewhat an- 
 cient brick house, with a green door and window-blinds*. 
 Heavy, badly smelling ailanthus-trees in front conveniently 
 obscured the livery-stable and engine-house on the opposite 
 side of the street, and as there happened to be no fires sit 
 the time, and no carriages in requisition, the place had a 
 quiet, contemplative air. The bell was answered by a small 
 mulatto-boy, whose white jacket and trousers were orna- 
 mented with broad red stripes down the arms and legs, 
 giving him the air of a little yellow harlequin. 
 
 He grinned on seeing Mr. Brandagee, said, " She 's in 
 the parlor," and threw open the door thereto. 
 
 Only one gas-burner was yet lighted, but, as the rooms 
 were small, I could very well observe the light-blue figure 
 which advanced to meet us. Heavens and earth ! where 
 was the lovely creature with dark eyes and willowy tresses ? 
 I saw, to my unutterable surprise, a woman of forty-five, 
 tall, lean, with a multitude of puckers about her yellowish- 
 gray eyes, and long thin lips. On her faded brown hair 
 she wore a wreath of blue flowers. Her nose was aquiline, 
 and her neck seemed to throw out strong roots in the di- 
 rection of her shoulders. As I looked at the back of it, 
 afterwards, I could not help thinking I saw a garland of 
 forget-me-nots laid on the dry, mossy stump of a sapling. 
 
 " Faithful friend ! Fidus Achates ! " (which she pro 
 uounced Akkatees^) she exclaimed, holding out both hands 
 to Brandagee. " You are just in time. Adonis," (this to 
 the striped mulatto-boy,) " light the other burners ! " 
 
 You know you can always depend upon me, Adeliza. " 
 Brandagee replied, with a side-wink to me ; " I conside.'
 
 272 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 myself as your jidibus. Let me present to you my friend 
 Mr. Godfrey, whose name is familiar to you, no doubt, as 
 one of our dawning bards, ' Leonora's Dream, and Other 
 Poems.' " 
 
 " Is it possible ? This is an unexpected acquisition to 
 our circle of choice spirits. Mr. Godfrey ! I am delighted 
 to make your acquaintance. I have long known and ad- 
 mired your poetical self: we are fellow-Hesperians, you 
 know." 
 
 Though I was so confounded by the reality of Adeliza's 
 appearance, I could not help being flattered by the warmth 
 of her reception. I glowed with gratified vanity, as I took 
 her offered hand, and said I was very happy to meet Miss 
 Choate, whose poems I had read with so much pleasure. 
 
 Brandagee burst into a laugh at my blunder, which I 
 also perceived, the moment after it was uttered. Much 
 embarrassed, I stammered some awkward words of apology. 
 
 Mrs. Yorkton, however, was rather pleased than offended. 
 
 " No apology is necessary, Mr. Godfrey," she said : " I 
 am quite as accustomed to my poetic as to my prosaic 
 name. I adopted the former when I first began to write, 
 on account of the prejudice which The Herd manifests 
 when a woman's hand dares to sweep the strings of the 
 Delphic lyre. But the secret was soon discovered by those 
 friends who knew my Inner Self, and they still like to ad- 
 dress me by what they call my ' Parnassian name.' " 
 
 By this time the remaining burners had been lighted, 
 and all the features of this bower of the Muses were re 
 vealed to view. The furniture was well-worn, and had ap 
 parently been picked up piece by piece, without regard to 
 the general harmony. Over the front mantelpiece hung 
 a portrait in crayons of the hostess, with a pen in her hand, 
 and her eyes uplifted. On a small table between the win- 
 dows stood a large plaster bust of Virgil, with a fresh wreath 
 of periwinkle (plucked from the back-yard) upon its head 
 On the two centre-tables were laid volumes of poetry, and
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 27S 
 
 some annuals, bound in blue and scarlet cloth. The most 
 remarkable feature of the room, however, was a series of 
 four oblong black-boards, suspended like picture-frames on 
 the walls, each one bordered with a garland of green leaves. 
 Upon two of these there were sentences written with chalk ; 
 the other two were still empty. 
 
 u There, Mr. Brandagee ! " she exclaimed, waving her thin 
 arm with an air of triumph ; " that is my idea for to-night. 
 Don't you think it suggestive ? Instead of pictures, a preg- 
 nant sentence on each of these dark tablets. It seems to 
 symbolize Thought starting out in white light from the mid- 
 night of Ignorance. Words give mental pictures, you know, 
 and I want to have these filled up by distinguished masters. 
 Come, and I '11 show you what I have done ! " 
 
 She led the way to the farthest black-board, stationed 
 herself before it, with Brandagee on one side and myself 
 on the other, and resumed her explanation. " This / have 
 written," she said, " not because I could not find any sen- 
 tence adapted to the purpose, but because my friends seem 
 to expect that I should always offer them some intellectual 
 food. 'Congenial Spirits Move in Harmonious Orbits? 
 how do you like it? There must be a great deal of mean- 
 ing compressed into a very few words, you know, oracular, 
 suggesting various things. Now, I want to have the same 
 thought,- or a kindred one, in other languages, on the other 
 boards. The next, you see, is French, but I can't go any 
 further without your help. What do you think of this ? " 
 
 Ui Les beaux esprits se rencontrent' " read Brandagee. 
 " Very appropriate, indeed ! Not only abstractly true, but 
 complimentary to your guests. And you want the same 
 thing in other languages, what languages ? " 
 
 " One must be German, of course," said she. " Can't 
 you remember something from Schiller, or Goeethy, or 
 Rikter?" 
 
 " I ha"e it ! Give me the chalk. Your own Orphic ut- 
 terance reproduced in the immortal words of Goethe ! Did 
 18
 
 274 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 you know it ? the finest line in ' Faust ' ; what a singu 
 lar coincidence of genius ? " 
 
 Taking the chalk from the ready hand of the delighted 
 Mrs. Yorkton, Brandagee wrote on the third black-board 
 " Gleiches gesellt sick gem mit Gleichem ! " I understood the 
 words, and was a little at a loss to account for his enthusiasm 
 about them. 
 
 " Now for the last ! " said he. " It must be Italian, Span- 
 ish, Swedish, or Dutch. I might take a line from Dante, 
 ' Lasciate ogni speranzaj and so forth, but that would be 
 too palpable to some of the beaux esprits. You want some- 
 thing more vague and mystical. Who is there, Tegner. 
 Calderon, Lope de Vega ? Calderon is best, and now I re- 
 call the very sentence for you. There it is, white on black . 
 ' Coda oveja ha sin pareja' " 
 
 " It has a lovely sound," she murmured ; " what is the 
 meaning ? " 
 
 " Something like this," he answered ; " ' No gentle creat- 
 ure is condemned to solitude,' " but he afterwards whis- 
 pered to me that the sentence actually read : " Every sheep 
 has its fellow." 
 
 Mrs. Yorkton grasped his hands with gratitude, and twice 
 made the circuit of the rooms to inspect, with radiant sat- 
 isfaction, her suggestive mental pictures. Then, as Bran- 
 dagee had flung himself into a chair, and was tossing over 
 the leaves of the annuals, she invited me to take a seat be- 
 side her on the sofa. 
 
 " Tell me now, Mr. Godfrey," said she, " what is your 
 usual process of composition ? I don't mean the fine frenzy, 
 because all poets must have that, of course ; but how do 
 you write, and when do you find the combination of influ- 
 ences most favorable ? It is a subject which interests me 
 greatly ; my ovn temperament is so peculiar. Indeed, 
 I have found no one upon whom the Inspiration seizes 
 with such power. Does it visit you in the garish light 
 of day, or only awake beneath the stars ? Must you
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 275 
 
 wear a loose dressing-gown, like Mr. Danforth, or is your 
 Muse not impeded by the restraints of dress ? " 
 
 I scarcely knew what answer to make to these questions. 
 In fact, I began strongly to suspect that I was no poet. 
 I had never supposed that any particular time or costume 
 was required for the exercise of the faculty, had never 
 thought of instituting a series of observations upon myself, 
 for the purpose of determining what conditions were most 
 favorable. 
 
 " I am really unable to say," I answered. " I have always 
 been in the habit of writing whenever I felt that I had a 
 good subject, whether by day or night." 
 
 " How fortunate ! " she exclaimed ; " how I envy you ! 
 Your physique enables you to do it ; but with my sensitive 
 frame, it would be impossible. I feel the approach of In- 
 spiration in every nerve; my husband often tells me 
 that he knows beforehand when I am going to write, my 
 eyes shine so. Then I go up-stairs to my study, which is 
 next to my bedroom. It always comes on about three 
 o'clock in the afternoon, when the wind blows from the 
 south. I change my dress, and put on a long white gown, 
 which I wear at no other time, take off my stays, and let 
 my hair down my back. Then I prance up and down the 
 room as if I was possessed, and as the lines come to me 
 I dash them on the black-board, one after another, and chant 
 them in a loud voice. Sometimes I cover all four of the 
 boards both sides before the Inspiration leaves me. 
 The frail Uody is overcome by the excitement of the Soul, 
 and at night my husband often finds me lying on the floor 
 in the middle of the room, panting panting ! " 
 
 She gave this information in so wild and excited a man- 
 -er, flapping her hands up and down before her to illus 
 trate the operation of prancing, hurling forth one arm, and 
 making a convulsive, tremulous line in the air with her 
 closed fingers when she came to dashing the words on the 
 black-board, and panting so very literally at the close, that
 
 276 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 I began to be alarmed lest the Inspiration was approaching. 
 I looked at her head, and was reassured on finding that the 
 forget-rne-nots still crowned it, and that her hair was not 
 coming down behind. 
 
 " I should think it must be very exhausting," I ventured 
 to remark. 
 
 " Killing ! " she exclaimed, with energy. " I am obliged 
 to take restoratives and stimulants, after one of these visits 
 It would n't be safe for me to have a penknife in the room, 
 or a pair of scissors, or a sharp paper-cutter, while 
 the frenzy is on me. I might injure myself before I knew 
 it. But it would be a sweet, a fitting death. If it ever 
 comes, Mr. Godfrey, you must write my thanatopsis ! " 
 
 Here Brandagee, sitting at the table with his back to us, 
 startled us by bursting into the most violent laughter. Mrs. 
 Yorkton evidently did not find the interruption agreeable. 
 
 " What is the matter ? " she asked, in a stiff voice. 
 
 " Oh," said he, " these things of Mrs. Mallard. I have 
 just been turning over the ' Female Poets.' The editor 
 has given her ten pages. I wonder what she paid him ; 
 there must have been an equivalent." 
 
 " Ten pages, indeed ! " ejaculated Mrs. Yorkton, with 
 bitterness, " and barely three for me ! That is the way 
 literature is encouraged. How anybody can find the traces 
 of Inspiration in Mrs. Mallard's machinery I won't call 
 it poetry I cannot comprehend. I am told, Mr. Bran- 
 dagee, that she has become very spiteful, since my recep 
 tions have made a noise in the literary world." 
 
 " I don't doubt it Detraction and Envy are the inevi- 
 table attendants of Genius. But the Eagle should not be 
 annoyed at the hostile gyrations of the Vulture." 
 
 " What grand dashes of thought you strike out ! " she 
 cried, in an excess of delight and admiration. " That imago 
 would close a sonnet so finely. If it should return to my 
 mind, hereafter, in some Inspired Moment, you will knoff 
 whose hand planted the Seeds of Song."
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 277 
 
 " You don't know what a poet I am ! " he said, in hig 
 mocking way. " If I dared to write. Dr. Brown-Sequara 
 said to me one day, in Paris, when he was attending me 
 for the rupture of a blood-vessel, caused by writing a poem 
 on hearing a nightingale singing in Rue Notre Dame de 
 Lorette, said he, ' Brandagee, my boy, avoid these exal- 
 tations, if you don't want to bring up at Pere la Chaise or 
 Charenton. Your nature is over-balanced : you must drop 
 the spiritual and cultivate the animal.' It was a hard sen- 
 tence : but I wanted to live, and I was forced to obey." 
 
 lie heaved a deep sigh, which was echoed, in all serious- 
 ness, by Mrs. Yorkton. I admired the amazing command 
 of face and manner, which enabled him to perpetrate such 
 barefaced irony, without exciting her suspicion. It was 
 evident that she both believed and admired him. 
 
 The arrival of guests interrupted the conversation. Two 
 gentlemen and a lady entered the room. I recognized 
 Mr. Smithers at once, by the scarlet cravat and velvet 
 poat; the others, as Mrs. Yorkton whispered before pre- 
 senting me, were " appreciative sympathizers, not authors." 
 The black-board answered their purpose by furnishing 
 immediate subjects for talk, and I got on very well with 
 the appreciative sympathizers. Presently Mr. Danforth 
 arrived, escorting Clara Collady, and followed by Mr. Blue- 
 bit, a sculptor, and Mr. S. Mears, a painter. Brandagee 
 persisted in calling the latter " Smears." 1 looked curiousl) 
 at the gentleman who could only write in a loose dressing 
 gown, and found the peculiarity intelligible, supposing he 
 usually went as tightly clad as at present His coat was 
 buttoned so that there were horizontal creases around the 
 waist, and the seams were almost starting, and it seemed 
 impossible for him to bend forward his head without hav- 
 ing respiration suspended by his cravat Whenever he 
 nodded in conversation, his whole body, from the hips 
 upward, shared the movement 
 
 Clara Collady was a dumpy person of twenty-eight GJ
 
 278 JOHN GODFREY'S FOfJUNES. 
 
 f hirty, with a cheerful face and lively little black eyes 
 I sought an introduction to her, and soon found that we 
 were mutually ignorant of each other's works. I was sur- 
 prised to learn that her name was genuine and not ' Par- 
 nassian." She was disposed to enjoy the society without 
 criticizing its separate members, or suspecting any of them 
 of the crime of overlooking her own literary importance. 
 
 " I like to come here," she said. " It rests and refreshes 
 me, after a week in the school-room. Mrs. Yorkton is 
 sometimes a little too anxious to show people off, which I 
 think is unnecessary. They are always ready enough to 
 do it without instigation. But it is very pleasant to say 
 and do what you please, and I find that I generally learn 
 something. I could n't aspire to the higher literary circles, 
 you know." 
 
 Loud talking, near at hand, drew my attention. It was 
 Smithers engaged in a discussion with S. Mears. 
 
 " Classical subjects are dead obsolete antediluvi- 
 an ! " cried the former. '" Take the fireman, in his red 
 lannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his shoulders. 
 the clam-fisher, bare-legged on the sea-shore, the wood- 
 chopper, the street-sweeper : where will you find any- 
 thing more heroic ? " 
 
 " Very good for genre" said S. Mears, " but you would n't 
 call it High Art?" 
 
 " It 's the Highest, sir ! Form and Action, in their grand 
 primitive sublimity ! That 's the mistake you painters 
 make : you go on forever painting leather-faced Jeromes, 
 and Magdalens with tallow bosoms, instead of turning to 
 
 O O 
 
 Life ! Life 's the thing ! A strong-backed 'long-shore-mun, 
 with his hairy and sunburnt arms, and the tobacco-juice 
 in the corners of his mouth, is worth all your saints ! " 
 
 " Very well," said S. Mears : "' will you let me paint 
 yourself, with vine-leaves in your hair, and only a bit of 
 goat-skin around your loins ? I '11 call it Silenus. You '11 
 have your ' Life.' and I 'II have my classic subject"
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 279 
 
 Mr. Smithers was evidently getting angry, and would 
 have hotly retorted, but for the interposition of Mr. Blue- 
 bit, who took an arm of each and shook them good- 
 humoredly, saying, " Congenial spirits move in harmoni- 
 ous orbits." Brandagee, also, had been attracted by the 
 voices, and joined the group. The other three gentlemen,, 
 I noticed, treated him with a cautious deference, as if they 
 had been pricked by his tongue and did not wish to repeat 
 the sensation. 
 
 Other guests dropped in, by ones and twos, until the 
 small apartments were well filled, and the various little 
 centres of animated talk blended in an incessant and not 
 very harmonious noise. Mrs. Yorkton seemed to consider 
 me as an acquisition to her circle, probably because it 
 embraced more ; ' appreciative sympathizers " than authors, 
 and insisted on presenting me to everybody, as " one of 
 our dawning bards." The kindly cordiality with which I 
 was received awoke my benumbed ambition, and cheated 
 me into the belief that I had already achieved an enviable 
 renown. 
 
 While I was talking to a very hirsute gentleman, Mr. 
 Ponder, who wrote short philosophical essays for " The 
 Hesperian," I heard a familiar female voice behind me. 
 Turning around, I beheld the nose, the piercing Oriental 
 eyes, and the narrow streak of a forehead of Miss Levi, 
 whom I had not seen since Winch's reconciliation ball. 
 She was dressed in a dark maroon-colored silk, and the 
 word " Titianesque ! " which I heard S. Mears address to 
 his friend Bluebit, must have been spoken of her. Among 
 so many new faces she impressed me like an old acquaint- 
 ance, and I bowed familiarly as soon as I caught her eye. 
 To my surprise, she returned the salutation with an uncer- 
 tain air, in which there was but half-recognition. 
 
 " How have you been, since we met at Mr. Winch's ? " 
 T asked, taking a vacant seat beside her. 
 
 u Oh. very true ! It was there we met : I remembei
 
 280 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 the song you sang. What a pity Mrs. Yorkton has nt 
 piano ! " 
 
 I was too much disconcerted by the mistake to set hei 
 right; but Mrs. Yorkton, beholding us, bent down her 
 forget-me-nots and whispered, "And you never told me, 
 JVIiss Levi, that you knew Mr. Godfrey ! Why did you not 
 bring him into our circle before ? " 
 
 Miss Levi cast a side-glance at me, recalled my person- 
 ality, and answered, with perfect self-possession, " Oh, I 
 think poets should find their way to each other by instinct 
 I can understand them, though I may not be of them. 
 Besides, he is false and faithless. You know you are, Mr. 
 Godfrey : you are like a bee, going from flower to flower." 
 
 " Which is worse, Miss Levi," I asked, " the bee that 
 visits many flowers, or the flower that entertains many 
 bees ? " 
 
 She spread her fan, covered the lower part of her face 
 with it, and fixed me with her powerful eyes, while Mrs. 
 Yorkton nodded her head and observed, "An admirable 
 antithesis ! " 
 
 " Now, Mr. Godfrey," Miss Levi resumed, removing her 
 fan, " that is a spiteful remark, and you know it. You 
 must repeat to me your last poem, before I can forgive 
 you." 
 
 " Pray do ! " cried Mrs. Yorkton, clasping her hands in 
 entreaty. " Let us be the first to welcome it, before you 
 cast it forth to the hollow echoes of the world. Mr. Dan- 
 forth has promised to read to us the first act of his new 
 tragedy, and your poem will be a lyrical prelude to the 
 sterner recitation." 
 
 But I was steadfast in my refusal. I had written nothing 
 since the publication of my volume, and how was I to utter 
 to the ears of others the words of love which had become 
 a mockery to my own heart ? The controversy drew the 
 eyes of others upon us, until Brandagee came to my rescue, 
 by proclaiming his own lack of modesty, and demanding a 
 test upon the spot
 
 -JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 281 
 
 * What shall it be ? " he asked : " a recitation, a 
 improvisation, or an extemporaneous dramatic soliloquy . 
 There 's no difference between writing a thing for others 
 to read, and speaking it for others to hear. Poetry is only 
 a habit of the mind a little practice makes it come as 
 pat as prose. There was my friend, Von Struensee, the 
 great composer, who took it into his head, when he was; 
 fifty years old, to write the librettos of his own operas. 
 Never had attempted a line of poetry before ; so he began 
 by lifting the calf, and it was n't long before he could shoul- 
 der the ox. The first day he wrote two lines ; the second, 
 four ; the third, eight ; the fourth, sixteen ; doubling every 
 day until he could do eighteen hundred lines without stop- 
 ping to take breath. Do you know that Sir Egerton 
 Brydges wrote fourteen thousand sonnets, and I 've no doubt 
 they were as good as Cardinal Bembo's, who took forty 
 days to a single one. Give me an inspiring subject, the 
 present occasion, for instance, or an apostrophe to our tal- 
 ented hostess, and I '11 turn out the lines faster than you 
 can write them." 
 
 The proposal was hailed with acclamation, and the little 
 interval which occurred in choosing a subject gave Bran- 
 dagee time to collect his thoughts for the work. He had 
 skilfully suggested a theme, which, having been mentioned, 
 could not well be overlooked, and, to Mrs. Yorkton's intense 
 satisfaction, she became his inspiration. He rattled off 
 with great rapidity a string of galloping lines, in which 
 there was not much cohesion, but plenty of extravaganl 
 compliment and some wit However, it passed as a mar- 
 vellous performance, and was loudly applauded. 
 
 Other subjects were immediately suggested, considerably 
 to Mr. Danforth's annoyance. This gentleman had been 
 fidgeting about the room uneasily, with one hand in his 
 pocket, occasionally drawing forth a roll of paper tied with 
 red ribbon, and then thrusting it back again. Brandagee 
 perceiving the movement, said,
 
 282 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 u Do not run the Pierian fountain dry all at once, I beg 
 of you. But, if Mr. Dan forth will allow me. I will read 
 the portion of his tragedy with which he intends to favor 
 us I flatter myself that I can do justice to his diction." 
 
 The proposal met with favor from all except the author 
 Thrusting the roll deeper into his pocket, and stiffening his 
 head angrily, he protested that no one could or should read 
 his own manuscript except himself. Besides, he had not 
 positively promised that the company should hear it ; the 
 plot was not yet developed, and hence the situations would 
 not be properly understood. It would be better, perhaps, 
 if he waited until the completion of the second act. 
 
 " Wait until all five are finished ! " said Mr. Smithers 
 " It is a bad plan to produce your torsos ; I never knew of 
 any good to come of it. Give me the complete figure, 
 bone, muscle, and drapery, and then I'll tell you what 
 it is ! " 
 
 Brandagee seconded Mr, Smithers's views so heartily that 
 the postponement of the reading was soon accepted, as a 
 matter of course, by the company. Mr. Danforth was con- 
 sequently in a very ill humor for the rest of the evening. 
 He would have gone home at once but that Clara Colludy. 
 whom he escorted, declared that she was very well pleased 
 with the entertainment and was determined to remain. 
 
 Adonis now reappeared with a tray, and we were re- 
 galed with cups of weak tea, and cakes of peculiar texture. 
 Under the influence of these stimulants, harmony was re- 
 stored, and the orbits of the congenial spirits ceased to 
 clash. The midnight reports of fires and accidents called 
 me away soon afterwards, and I tore myself from Miss 
 Levi's penetrating eyes, and Mrs. Yorkton's clutching 
 hands, promising to return on successive Friday evenings. 
 Brandagee left with me, satisfied, as he said, with having 
 " choked off Danforth." 
 
 As I was leaving the room, I caught sight of a mild, 
 diminutive gentleman, seated alone in the corner nearest
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 2ft? 
 
 the door. lie was looking on and listening, with an air of 
 modest enjoyment. .None of the others seemed to notice 
 him, and I suspected that he had been even forgotten by 
 Adonis and the tea-tray. Catching my eye, he jumped up 
 briskly, shook hands, and said, 
 
 " Very much obliged to you for the call. Come again I " 
 
 It was Mr. Yorkton.
 
 284 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIL 
 
 ni WHICH I KNTEB GENTEEL SOCIETY AND MEET Mr BIJ. 
 ATIVES. 
 
 WHEN the first bitterness of my humiliation and disap- 
 pointment had subsided, and the conviction penetrated my 
 mind that it might still be possible for me .to take a mod- 
 erate delight in life, I found that I had quite broken loose 
 from my youthful moorings and was more or less adrift, 
 both in faith and morals. I do not mean that I was guilty 
 of actual violations of my early creed ; my life was so far 
 correct, through the negative virtue of habit ; but I was in 
 that baseless condition where a strong current not much 
 matter from what side it came might have carried me far 
 enough to settle the character of my future life. I have 
 always considered it a special blessing that so much of my 
 time was given to responsible and wearying labor in those 
 days. I retained my position on the Wonder, because I had 
 not sufficient energy to seek an easier situation, and no de- 
 sire to try new associations. The variety of my work pre 
 vented steady thought, and I found less difficulty in escaping 
 from the contemplation of my wrongs. Not yet, however, 
 was I able to congratulate myself on the treachery which 
 had released my heart from a mistaken bond. 
 
 I attended Mrs. Yorkton's receptions quite regularly for 
 some weeks. As the steady summer heats came on, her 
 bower was partly deserted, the artists and authors having 
 gone into the rural districts and taken many of the " appre- 
 ciative sympathizers " with them. Miss Levi departed, 
 eay in July, for " old Long Island's sea-girt shore " (as she
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 285 
 
 remarked). I afterwards discovered that she meant Fire 
 Island. It was at once a relief and a regret to me, when 
 she left. I began to enjoy the sham skirmishes of senti 
 rnent in which we indulged, especially as there was no like- 
 lihood of either being damaged by the pastime ; and, on 
 the other hand, I was a little afraid of her bewildering 
 glances, which seemed to increase in frequency and power 
 of fascination every time we met. 
 
 Brandagee did not again attend. He left the city, soou 
 after our acquaintance commenced, for a tour of the wa- 
 tering-places, and his sharp, saucy, brilliant letters from 
 Newport and Saratoga took the place of his dramatic criti- 
 cisms in the columns of the Wonder. I prevailed on 
 Swansford to accompany me, on two occasions, and Mrs. 
 Yorktown was very grateful. Music, she said, had not yet 
 been represented in her society, and she was delighted to 
 be able to present what she called " The Wedded Circle 
 of the Arts," although certain that Mrs. Mallard would be 
 furious when she should hear of it. The thinness of the 
 attendance during the dog-days gave me an opportunity to 
 cultivate Mr. Yorkton's acquaintance, and the modest little 
 man soon began to manifest a strong attachment for me. 
 
 " Bless you, Mr. Godfrey ! " he said, I don't know how 
 many times, " I s'pose I 'm of no consequence to you Ge- 
 nusses, but I do like to exchange a friendly word with a 
 body. These is all distinguished people, and I 'm proud 
 to entertain 'em. It does credit to Her I can see that. 
 I 'm told you can't find sich another Galaxy of Intellex, 
 not in New- York. A man in my position has a right to be 
 proud o' that" 
 
 Although he often referred to his position in the same 
 humble manner, I never ascertained what it was. When I 
 ventured to put forth a delicate reconnoissance, he looked 
 at his wife, as if expecting a warning glance, and I then 
 surmised that she had prohibited him from mentioning th 
 subject.
 
 286 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 I made but little progress in my literary career during 
 this time. Not more than seventy-five copies of my book 
 had been sold, and although the publisher did not seem to 
 be at all surprised at this result, I confess I was. Never- 
 theless, when I read it again in my changed mood, sneer- 
 ing at myself for the under-current of love and tenderness 
 which ran through it, recalling the hopes with which 1 
 had written, and the visions of happiness it was to herald, 
 I found there was not left sufficient pride in my perform- 
 ance to justify me in feeling sensitive because it had failed. 
 I contributed two or three stories to " The Hesperian," but 
 early in the fall Mr. Jenks became bankrupt, and the mag- 
 azine passed into other hands. My principal story was 
 published the month this disaster occurred, and it has not 
 been decided to this day, I believe, which party was re- 
 sponsible for the payment. All I understand of the matter 
 is that the payment was never made. 
 
 My increased salary, nevertheless, suggested the propri- 
 ety of living in a somewhat better style than Mrs. Very's 
 domestic circle afforded. It was hard to part from my daily 
 companionship with Swansford, but he generously admitted 
 the necessity of the change in my case, and I faithfully 
 promised that we should still see each other twice or thrice 
 a week. It was more difficult to escape from Mrs. Very. 
 " It 's an awful breaking up of the family," said she, " and 
 I did n't think you 'd serve me so. I 've boarded you 
 reasonable, though I say it. I may not be Fashionable," 
 (giving a loud sniff at the word,) " but I 'm Respectable, 
 and that 's more ! " 
 
 At dinner, that day, she made the announcement of my 
 departure in a pleasant voice and with a smiling face. Rut 
 the constrained vexation broke out in her closing words, 
 " There 's some that stands by me faithful, and some that 
 dont." 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Mortimer expressed their regret in phrases 
 which the Complete Letter- Writer could not have im-
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 287 
 
 proved, while Miss Tatting, in whom Impulsiveness waged 
 a continual war with Conventionality, came plumply forth 
 with her real sentiments. 
 
 " I see how it is," said she ; " you are getting up in the 
 world, and Hester Street is too much out of the way. It 'a 
 natural in you. and I don't blame you a bit. I 've oftei< 
 said it would turn out so. have n't I. Martha ? " 
 
 This was to Miss Dunlap, who glanced at me with E 
 stealthy look of reproach, as she murmured. " Yes. aunt.' 
 
 I knew that I was a monster of ingratitude in Mrs 
 Very's eyes, a fortunate man in the Mortimers', and a 
 proud one in those of Miss Tatting and her niece. My 
 last dinner in Hester Street was therefore constrained and 
 uncomfortable, and I made all haste to evacuate the famil- 
 iar attic room. My new residence was the elegant board- 
 ing-house of Mrs. De Peyster, in Bleecker Street, west of 
 Broadway. Here I paid six dollars a week for a fourth- 
 itory room back, furnished with decayed elegance, having 
 a grate for winter, a mosquito-net for summer, and a small 
 mahojjanv cabinet and bookcase for all seasons. The lat- 
 
 o . 
 
 tor. in fact, was the lure which had fascinated me, on the 
 day when Mrs. De Peyster, waiting in state in the parlor 
 below, sent me up-stairs with the chambermaid to inspect 
 the room. 
 
 When my effects had been transferred to these new quar- 
 ters, and I had arranged my small stock of books on the 
 shelves, placed my manuscript in the drawers of the cabi- 
 net, and seated myself with Wordsworth in an arm-chair 
 at the open window, I seemed to be enveloped at once in 
 an atmosphere of superior gentility. The backyards em- 
 braced in my view were not only more spacious than those 
 under Swansford's window in Hester Street, but the board- 
 partitions between them were painted, and a row of grape 
 arbors hid the lower stories of the opposite block. From 
 one of ihe open windows below me arose the sound of a 
 piano. It was not a favorable post for reading enthusiastic
 
 288 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 lines about celandines and daffodils, and I frankly admit 
 that I found Wordsworth rather tame. 
 
 This was during the half hour before dinner. When the 
 bell rang, I descended, not to the basement, but to the 
 back- parlor, where Mrs. De Peyster introduced me to mj 
 neighbor at the foot of the table, Mr. Renwick, a clerk in 
 an importing house down town. He was a younger, taller, 
 and more elegant variety of the Mortimer type : correct- 
 ness was his prominent characteristic. There was also & 
 young married couple, a family consisting of father, moth- 
 er, and two daughters, and four gentlemen of various ages, 
 all bearing the same stamp of unimpeachable propriety. 
 The dinner was a much more solemn affair than at Mrs. 
 Very's. Thin morsels of fish succeeded the soup, and the 
 conversation, commencing with the roast and vegetables, 
 in a series of tentative skirmishes, only became fairly 
 established towards the close of the meal. 
 
 Mr. Renwick, oblivious of my presence for the first ten 
 minutes after the introduction, suddenly startled me by 
 saying, 
 
 " I see that Erie went up at the Second Board, to-day." 
 
 ' Indeed ? " I remarked, feeling that a slight expression 
 of surprise would not be out of place ; though what " Erie " 
 was, and why it should go up at the Second Board, was a 
 mystery to me. 
 
 " Yes. Five eighths," said he. Then, as if conscious 
 that he had done his duty, he became silent again until the 
 close of the dessert, when, warming up over a slice of water- 
 melon, he observed, in a lower and more confidential tone, 
 
 " I should n't wonder if the balance of Exchange were 
 on our side before Christmas." 
 
 What reasons have you for thinking so ? " I asked at 
 random. 
 
 u Crops. I always keep the run of them" 
 
 " They are very fine, I suppose," I ventured to say, witk 
 fear and trembling.
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 289 
 
 ' You mean here ? Yes. And I see that the prospect? 
 of Pork are flattering. Everything combines, yon know." 
 
 I did n't know in the least, but of course I nodded and 
 looked wise, and said I was glad to hear it. Of all talk 1 
 had ever heard, this seemed to me to be the most dread 
 fully soulless. I looked up the table and listened. The 
 two girls were talking with the young wife about a wonder- 
 ful poplin at Stewart's, silver gray with green sprigs ; 
 the gentlemen were discussing the relative speed of Scal- 
 pel and Oriana, and the heavy mother was lamenting to 
 the attentive Mrs. De Peyster that they had been obliged 
 to leave Newport before the regatta came off, " on account 
 of Mr. Yarrow's business, the firm never can spare him 
 for more than a month at a time." 
 
 How I longed for the transparent pretension of the table 
 in Hester Street, constantly violating the rules of its own 
 demonstrative gentility ! For my easy chat with Swans- 
 ford, for Miss Dunlap's faded sentiment, Miss Tatting's fear- 
 less impulsiveness, and even Mrs. Very's stiffly stereotyped 
 phrases ! There, the heavy primitive cooking was digested 
 by the help of lively nothings of talk and the peristaltic 
 stimulus of laughter : here, the respectably dressed viands, 
 appearing in their conventional order of procession, were 
 received with a stately formality which seemed to repel their 
 attempts at assimilation. " Erie " and the " balance of 
 exchange " mixed, somehow, with the vanilla-flavored blanc 
 mange, and lay heavy on my stomach : the prospect of Mr. 
 Renwick's neighborhood embarrassed and discouraged me, 
 but I could not see that any advantage would be gained by 
 changing my place at the table. 
 
 After dinner I hurried across to my old quarters, for the 
 relief of Swansford's company. He laughed heartily at my 
 description of the genteel society into which I was now 
 introduced, and said, 
 
 " Ah, Godfrey, you '11 find as I have done that Art spoils 
 yuu for life. It is the old alternative of God or Mammon:
 
 290 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 you can't serve two masters. Try it, if you like, but 1 
 see how it will end. I have made my choice, and will 
 stick to it until I die : you think you have made yours, 
 but you have not You are getting further from Art 
 every day," * 
 
 I resented this opinion rather warmly, because I felt 
 a suspicion of its truth. I protested that nothing else but 
 Literature was now left me to live for. It was true I had 
 seemed to neglect it of late, but he, Swansford, knew the 
 reason, and ought to be the last man to charge me with 
 apostasy to my lofty intellectual aims. He half smiled, in 
 his sweet, sad way, and gave me his hand. 
 
 " Forgive me, Godfrey," he said ; " I did n't mean as 
 much as you supposed. I was thinking of that single- 
 hearted devotion to Art, of which few men are capable, 
 and which, God knows, I should not wish you to possess, 
 unless you were sure that you were destined to reach the 
 highest place. Most authors and artists live in the border 
 land, and make excursions from time to time over the 
 frontier, but there are few indeed who build their dwell- 
 ings on the side turned away from the world!" 
 
 " I understand you now, Swansford," I answered, " and 
 you are right I am not destined to be one of the highest ; 
 don't think that I ever imagined it. I am cart alone on the 
 world. I have been cheated and outraged, as you know. 
 I see Life before me, offering other lower modes of en- 
 joyment, I will not deny ; but where else shall I turn for 
 compensation ? Suppose I should achieve fame as an au- 
 thor ? I have a little already, and I feel that even the 
 highest would not repay me for what I have lost I shall 
 not reject any other good the gods provide me. I 've tried 
 purity and fidelity of heart, to no purpose. I don't say thai 
 1 '11 try the opposite, now, but you could n't blame me if 1 
 did ! " 
 
 " Come, Godfrey," said he, " I 've written a voluntan 
 for the organist of St. Barnaby's. He paid me to-day, and
 
 JOI1X GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 291 
 
 C have two dollars to spare. We '11 go out and ha /e a lit- 
 tle supper together." 
 
 Which we did, and in the course of which we put the 
 World on its trial, heard all the arguments on either side, 
 rendered (without leaving our seats) a verdict of " Guilty," 
 and invoked the sentence which we wore powerless to in- 
 flict. What should I have done without that safety-valve 
 of Swansford's friendship ? 
 
 By-and-by I grew more accustomed to my life in Bleecker 
 Street. I found that Mr. Renwick could talk about Mrs. 
 Pudge and the drama, as well as Erie and the Second 
 Board ; and that Mr. Blossom, the very same gentleman 
 who had bet ten dollars on Scalpel at the Long Island 
 races, was an enthusiastic admirer of Tennyson. He had 
 a choice library of the English Poets in his room, and oc- 
 casionally lent me volumes. I learned to read Words- 
 worth at my window, to the accompaniment of the fashion- 
 able redowa on the first-floor piano, and after many days 
 there dawned upon my brain the conviction that there was 
 another kind of poetry than Tom Moore's and Felicia He- 
 mans's. 
 
 I grew tolerably skilful in the performance of my labor 
 for the Wntnler. having fallen into an unconscious imitation 
 of Brandagee's smart, flashy style, which gave piquancy to 
 my descriptions and reports. Mr. Clarendon was quite 
 satisfied with my performance, though he let fall a word of 
 warning. " This manner," he said, " is very well for your 
 present department, but, if you want to advance, you must 
 not let it corrupt you entirely." 
 
 Thus the summer and part of the autumn passed away, 
 without bringing any occurrence worthy of being recorded. 
 Towards the end of October, however, a sudden and most 
 unexpected pleasure came to cheer me. 
 
 I had gone into the St. Nicholas Hotel on some errand 
 connected with my newspaper labors, and was passing out 
 again through the marble-paved lobby, when a gentleman
 
 292 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 suddenly ai ose from the row of loungers on the broad, car 
 pet-covered stalls, and stepped before me. A glance of his 
 dark, questioning eyes seemed to satisfy him ; he seized my 
 hand, and exclaimed, 
 
 " John Godfrey, is this really you ? " 
 
 Penrose ! my cousin ! I had not forgotten him, although 
 our correspondence, after languishing for a few months, 
 had died a natural death before I left Reading. For two 
 years I had heard no word of him, and, since my bitter 
 experience of the past summer, had reckoned it as one of 
 the improbable possibilities of life that we should ever meet 
 again. His boyish beauty had ripened into an equally 
 noble manhood. He was taller and stronger limbed, with- 
 out having lost any of his grace and symmetry. A soft, 
 thick moustache hid the sharp, scornful curve of his upper 
 lip, and threw a shade over the corners of his mouth, and 
 the fitful, passionate spirit which once shot from his eyes 
 had given place to a full, steady ray of power. As I looked 
 at him, I felt proud that the same blood ran in our veins. 
 
 We sought out a vacant corner in the reading-room and 
 sat down together. He looked once more into my eyes 
 with an expression of honest affection, which warmed the 
 embers of my school-boy feeling for him in an instant. 
 
 " We should not have lost sight of each other, John," he 
 said. " It was more my fault than yours, I think ; but I 
 never forgot you. I could scarcely believe my eyes when 
 we met, just now. Yours is a face that would change more 
 than mine. There is not much of the boy left in it. Come, 
 give me your history since you left Dr. Dymond's." 
 
 I complied, omitting the most important episode. Pen 
 rose heard the story with keen interest, interrupting me 
 only with an ejaculation of " The old brute ! " when I re 
 lated my uncle's management of my inheritance. 
 
 " Now," said he, when I had finished, " you shall have 
 my story. There is very little of it. I was twenty, you 
 may remember, when I left the Doctor's school, and went
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 298 
 
 mto my uncle's office. I had no expectation of ever receiv- 
 ing any assistance from my father, and worked like a youn^ 
 fellow who has his fortune to make. I believe I showed 
 some business capacity ; at least my uncle thought so ; and 
 after I came of age my father found it prudent to make an 
 outside show of reconciliation. Matilda insists that the 
 Cook had a hand in it, but I prefer not to believe it If 
 she had. I rather think she was disappointed at the result ; 
 for, when my father died, a year ago, he only left her the 
 legal third. The rest was divided between Matilda and 
 myself. I 'm sure I expected to be cut off with a shilling, 
 but it seems his sense of justice came back to him at the 
 last. His fortune was much less than everybody supposed, 
 barely a hundred thousand and I have my suspicions 
 that the Cook laid away an extra share in her own name 
 before his death. It makes no difference to me now ; we 
 are well rid of her. Matilda was married a month ago, 
 and, though I can't say that I particularly admire the 
 brother-in-law she has selected for me, I am satisfied that 
 she is out of the hands of that woman." 
 
 " Are you living in New York, Alexander ? " I asked. 
 
 " Not now ; but I may fix my home here, very soon. ] 
 shall have another motive, old fellow, now that I know yon 
 are here. I have a chance of getting into a firm down 
 town, if my little capital can be stretched to meet the sum 
 demanded. I have luxurious tastes, they are in the 
 Hatrfeld blood, are they not ? and I could not be con- 
 tent to sit down at my age, with my two thousand a year. 
 I suppose I shall marry some day, and then I must have 
 ten thousand." 
 
 It did not surprise me to hear Penrose speak slightingly 
 of a fortune which, to me, would have been a splendid com- 
 petence. It belonged to his magnificent air, and any stran- 
 ger could have seen that he would certainly acquire what- 
 ever his ambi/ion might select as being necessary to his 
 life. I never knew a man who, without genius, so im-
 
 294 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 pressed every one with a belief in his powers of command 
 ing success. 
 
 As I stretched out my hand to say good-bye, he grasped 
 me by the arm, and said, " You must see Matilda. She is 
 in her private parlor, and I think Shanks, her husband, 
 will be at home by this time." 
 
 I had no very strong desire to make the acquaintance of 
 my other cousin, and I suppose Penrose must have read 
 the fact in my face, for he remarked, as we were mount- 
 ing the stairs, " Now I remember, there was something 
 in one of Matilda's letters which was not very flattering to 
 you. But I have told her of our friendship since, and I 
 know that she will be really glad to see you. She has not 
 a bad heart, when you once get down to it ; though it seems 
 to me, sometimes, to be as grown over with selfish habits 
 and affectations as a ship's hull with barnacles." 
 
 When we entered the private parlor on the third floor, I 
 perceived an elegant figure seated at the window. 
 
 " 'Till," said Penrose, " come here and shake hands with 
 our cousin, John Godfrey ! " 
 
 " R-really ? " she exclaimed, with as much surprise as 
 was compatible with a high-bred air, and the next moment 
 rustled superbly across the room. 
 
 " How do you do, cousin ? " she said, giving me a jew 
 elled hand. "Are you my cousin, Mr. Godfrey? Aleck 
 explained it all to me once how you found out the relation- 
 ship, somewhere in a wild glen, was n't it ? It was quite 
 romantic, I know, and I envied him at the time. You 
 have the Hatzfeld eyes, certainly, like us. I 'm sure I 'm 
 very glad to make your acquaintance." 
 
 I expressed my own gratification with as much show of 
 sincerity as I could command. Matilda Shanks was a tall, 
 fine-looking woman, though by no means so luindsome as 
 her brother. Her eyes and hair were dark, like his, but 
 her face was longer, and some change in the setting of the 
 features, almost too slight to be defined, substituted an ex
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 295 
 
 prcs^ion of weakness for the strength of his. She must 
 have been twenty-seven, but appeared to be two or three 
 years older, a result probably, of the tutorship she had 
 assumed on her step-mother's behalf. 
 
 " Well, 'Till," said Penrose, when we had seated ourselves 
 in a triangular group, " do you find him presentable ? " 
 
 Her eyes had already carefully gone over my persoi 
 from head to foot " Tres comme il faut" she answered ; 
 " but I took your word for that beforehand, Aleck." 
 
 " You must know, Godfrey, that Matilda is a perfect 
 dragon in regard to dress, manners, and all the other requi- 
 sites of social salvation. It 's a piece of good luck to pass 
 muster with her, I assure you. I have not succeeded 
 yet" 
 
 She was beginning to put in an affected disclaimer when 
 Mr. Shanks entered the room. I saw his calibre at the 
 first glance. The wide trousers, flapping around the thin 
 legs ; the light loose coat elegantly fitting at the shoulders 
 and just touching its fronts on the narrow ground of a 
 single button ; the exquisite collar, the dainty gloves and 
 patent-leather boots, and the gold-headed switch, all pro- 
 claimed the fashionable young gentleman, while the dull, 
 lustreless stare of the eyes, the dark bands under them, 
 and the listless, half-closed mouth, told as plainly of shallow 
 brains and dissipated habits. He came dancing up to his 
 wife, put one arm around her neck and kissed her. 
 
 She lifted up her hand and gave his imperial a little 
 twitch, by way of returning the caress, and then said, " Ed- 
 mund, my cousin, Mr. Godfrey." 
 
 Ah ! " exclaimed Edmund, hastily thrusting an eye-glass 
 into his left eye and turning towards me. Retaining his 
 hold of the switch with two fingers, he graciously presented 
 me with the other two, as he drawled out " Very happy, 
 sir." 
 
 I was vexed at myself afterwards that I gave him my 
 whole hand. I know of no form of vulgarity so offensive
 
 J96 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 as this offering of a fractional salutation. None but a snol 
 would ever be guilty of it- 
 
 A conversation about billiards and trotting-horses ensued, 
 and I broke away in the midst of it, after promising to dine 
 with the Shanks at an early day.
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 297 
 
 CHAPTER XXTTT. 
 
 DESCRIBING MY INTERVIEW WITH MART MALONEY. 
 
 ONE result of ray out-door occupation was to make me 
 familiar with all parts of the city. During the first year 
 of my residence I had seen little else than Broadway, from 
 the Battery to Union Square, Chatham Street, and the 
 Bowery. I now discovered that there were many other 
 regions, each possessing a distinct individuality and a sep- 
 arate city-life of its own. From noticing the external char- 
 acteristics, I came gradually to study the peculiarities of 
 the inhabitants, and thus obtained a knowledge which was 
 not only of great advantage to me in a professional sense, 
 but gave me an interest in men which counteracted, to 
 some extent, the growing cynicism of my views. Often, 
 when tired of reading and feeling no impulse to write, (the 
 greatest portion of my literary energy being now expended 
 on my regular duties,) I would pass an idle but not useless 
 hour in wandering around the sepulchral seclusion of St. 
 John's Park, with its obsolete gentility ; or the solid plain- 
 ness of East Broadway, home of plodding and prosperous 
 men of business ; or the cosmopolitan rag-fair of Green- 
 wich Street ; or the seething lowest depth of the Five 
 Points ; the proud family aristocracy of Second, or the 
 pretentious moneyed aristocracy of Fifth Avenue, invol- 
 untarily contrasting and comparing these spheres of life, 
 each of which retained its independent motion, while re- 
 volving in the same machine. 
 
 I will not trouble the reader with the speculations which 
 these experiences suggested. They were sufficiently com
 
 298 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 monplace. I dare say, and have been uttered several mil- 
 lions of times, by young men of the same age ; but I none 
 the less thought them both original and profound, and con- 
 sidered myself a philosopher, in the loftiest sense of the 
 word. I imagined that I comprehended the several na- 
 tures of the rich and the poor, the learned and the igno- 
 rant, the righteous and the vicious, from such superficial 
 observation, not yet perceiving, through my own experi- 
 ence, the common flesh and spirit of all men. 
 
 One afternoon, as I was slowly returning towards my 
 lodgings from a professional inspection of a new church 
 in Sixth Avenue, I was struck by the figure of a woman, 
 standing at the corner of Bleecker and Sullivan Streets. 
 A woman of the laboring class, dressed in clean but faded 
 calico, leaning against the area-railing of the corner 
 house, with a weak, helpless appeal expressing itself in her 
 attitude. Her eyes were fixed upon me as I passed, with 
 a steady, imploring gaze, which ran through me, like a 
 palpable benumbing agency, laming my feet as they walked. 
 Yet she said nothing, and could scarcely, I thought, be a 
 beggar. I was well accustomed to the arts of the street- 
 beggars, and usually steeled myself (though with an un- 
 conquerable sense of my own inhumanity) against their 
 appeals. Now and then, however, I met with one whom 
 I could not escape. There was a young fellow, for instance, 
 with both his legs cut off at the thighs, who paddled his 
 way around the Park by means of his hands. I had been 
 told that he was in good circumstances, having received 
 heavy damages from the Hudson River Railroad Company ; 
 but I could not stand the supplication of his eyes whenever 
 we met, and was obliged either to turn my head away or 
 lose two shillings. There was the same magnetism in this 
 woman's eyes, and before I crossed the street, I felt myself 
 impelled to turn and look at her again. 
 
 She came forward instantly as I did so, yet not so rap- 
 idly that I could not perceive the struggle of some power
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 299 
 
 ful motive with her natural reluctancy. I stepped back to 
 the sidewalk. 
 
 " Oh, sir ! " said she, " perhaps you could help a poor 
 woman." 
 
 I was suspicious of my own sympathy, and answered 
 coldly, " I don't know. What is the matter with you ? " 
 
 " It 's the rent," she said. '' I can always aim my own 
 livin' and have done it, and the rent too, all to this last 
 quarter, when I } \e been so ailin', and my boy gits no wages 
 at all. If I don't pay it, I '11 be turned into the street to- 
 morrow. I 'm no beggar : I niver thought to ha' beseeched 
 anybody while my own two hands held out : but there it is, 
 and here I am, and if it was n't for my boy I would n't care 
 how soon the world 'd come to an end for me. The best 
 things was pawned to pay the doctor, only my weddin'-ring 
 I can't let go, for Hugh's sake. His blessed soul would 
 n't be satisfied, if I was buried without that on my finger." 
 
 She was crying long before she finished speaking, turn- 
 ing the thin hoop of very pale gold with her other thumb 
 and finger, and then clasping her hands hard together, as 
 if with an instinctive fear that somebody might snatch it 
 ofi. This action and her tears melted me entirely to pity. 
 
 " How much must you ha v r e ? " I asked. 
 
 " It 's a whole quarter's rent fifteen dollars. If that 
 was paid, though I 'm a little wake yet, I could wurrk for 
 the two of us. Could you help me to it any way ? " 
 
 Where do you live ? " 
 
 " It 's jist by here in Gooseberry Alley. And the 
 Feenys will tell you it 's ivery word true I 've said. Andy, 
 or his wife aither, was willin' enough to help me, but she 
 has a baby not a week old, and. they 've need of ivery 
 penny." 
 
 She turned, with a quick, eager movement, and I fol- 
 lowed, without any further question. Gooseberry Alley 
 was but a few blocks distant It was a close, dirty place, 
 debouching on Sullivan Street, and barely wide enough for
 
 300 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 a single cart to be backed into. The houses were of brick 
 but had evidently been built all at once, and in such a 
 cheap way that they seemed to be already tumbling down 
 from a lack of cohesive material. A multitude of young 
 children were playing with potato parings or stirring up 
 the foul gutter in the centre of the alley with rotting cab- 
 bage-stalks. I remember thinking that Nature takes great 
 pains to multiply the low types of our race, while she heed- 
 lessly lets the highest run out. A very disagreeable smell, 
 which I cannot describe, but which may be found wherever 
 the poor Irish congregate, filled the air. That alone was 
 misery enough, to my thinking. 
 
 About half-way up the alley, the woman entered a house 
 on the right-hand, saying, " It 's a poor place, sir, for the 
 likes of you to come into, but you must see whether I spake 
 the truth." 
 
 In the narrow passage the floor was so dirty and the 
 walls so smutched and greasy that I shuddered and held the 
 skirts of my coat close to my sides ; but when we had 
 mounted a steep flight of steps and entered the woman's 
 own apartment, a rear projection of the house, there 
 was a change for the better. The first room was a bed- 
 room, bare and with the least possible furniture, but com- 
 fortably clean. Beyond this there was a smaller room, 
 which seemed to be a combined kitchen and laundry, to 
 judge from the few necessary implements. The woman 
 dusted an unpainted wooden stool with her apron and gave 
 it to me for a seat 
 
 " My boy made it," said she ; " the master let him dc 
 that much, but it 's little time he gits for such things." 
 
 She then entered into an explanation of her circum- 
 stances, from which I learned that her name was Marj 
 Maloney ; that she was a native of the North of Ireland, 
 and had emigrated to America with her husband ten years 
 before. They had had many ups and downs, even while 
 the latter lived. T suspected, though she did not say it
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 301 
 
 that he was a reckless, improvident fellow, whose 
 independence had completed his ruin. After his death, sh 
 had supported herself mostly by washing, but succeeded 
 in getting her boy, Hugh, admitted as an apprentice into a 
 large upholstery establishment, and might have laid up a 
 little in the Savings-Bank, if she had not been obliged to 
 feed and lodge him for the first two years, only one of which 
 was passed. Hugh was a good boy, she said, the picture 
 of his father, and she thought he would be all the better 
 for having a steady trade. After a while he would get 
 wages, and be able to keep not only himself but her, too. 
 Would I go into Feeny's the front rooms on the same 
 floor and ask them to testify to her carackter ? 
 
 I did not need any corroborative evidence of her story. 
 The woman's honesty was apparent to me, in her simple, 
 consistent words, in her homely, worn features and un- 
 shrinking eyes, and in the utter yet decent poverty of her 
 dwelling. I determined to help her, but there were 
 scarcely five dollars in my pocket and fifteen were to be 
 paid on the morrow. It was drawing near to Mrs. De 
 Peyster's dinner-hour, and I recollected that on two 01 
 three occasions small collections for charitable purposes 
 had been taken up at that lady's table. I therefore deter- 
 mined to state the case, and ask the assistance of the other 
 boarders. 
 
 " I must go now," I said, " but will try to do some 
 thing for you. Will you be here at seven o'clock this 
 evening? " 
 
 " I niver go out o' th' evenin', " she answered, " and not 
 often o' th' day. Hugh '11 be home at seven. If you could 
 only lend me the money, sir, I don't ask you to give it, 
 I 'd do some washin' for y'rself or y"r family, a little ivery 
 wake, to pay ye back ag*in." 
 
 When we had reached a proper stage of the dinner, I men- 
 Joned the matter to Messrs. Renwick and Blossom, asking 
 them whether they and the other gentlemen would be will- 
 ing to contribute towards the sum required.
 
 302 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 " You are satisfied that it is a case of real distress, and 
 the money is actually needed ? " asked the latter. 
 " I am quite sure of it." 
 " Then here are two dollars, to begin with. I think we 
 
 ' O 
 
 can raise the whole amount." He took advantage of a lull 
 in the conversation and repeated my statement to the com- 
 pany. After a few questions which I was able to answer, 
 pocket-books were produced and note after note passed 
 down the table to me. Upon counting them, I found the 
 sum contributed to be nineteen dollars. I stated this fact, 
 adding it was more than was required. Some one an- 
 swered, '" So much the better, the woman will have four 
 dollars to begin the next quarter with." The others ac- 
 quiesced, and then resumed their former topics of conver- 
 sation, satisfied that the matter was now settled. I was 
 greatly delighted with this generous response to my appeal, 
 and began to wonder whether the shallow, superficial inter- 
 ests with which my fellow-boarders seemed to be occupied, 
 were not, after all, a mere matter of education. They had 
 given, in a careless, indifferent way, it was true ; but then, 
 they had given and not withheld. I had no right to suppose 
 that their sympathy for the poor widow was not as genuine 
 as my own. I have learned, since then, that this noble 
 irait of generosity belongs to the city of my adoption. 
 With all their faults, its people are unstinted givers ; and 
 no appeal, supported by responsible authority, is ever made 
 to them in vain. 
 
 When I returned to Gooseberry Alley in the evening, 
 L found Mary Maloney waiting for me at the door, her face 
 wild and pale in the dim street-light. When she saw me 
 I suppose she read the coming relief in my face, for she 
 began to tremble, retreating into the dirty, dark passage as 
 she whispered, " Come up-stairs, will you, plase my boy 'a 
 at home ! " 
 
 An ironing-board was laid across two boxes in the kitchea 
 and Hugh, a short, stout lad of seventeen, was ironing a
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 308 
 
 shirt upon it. His broad face, curly red hair, and thick 
 neck were thoroughly Irish, but his features had already 
 the Bowery expression, swaggering, impudent, and good 
 humored. His bare arms, shining milk-white in the light 
 of the single tallow-candle, showed the firmness and ful- 
 ness of the growing muscle. The picture of his father 
 
 his mother had said. I did not doubt it; I saw al- 
 ready the signs of inherited appetites which only the 
 strictest discipline could subdue. He stopped in his work, 
 as we entered, looked at me, then at his mother, and some- 
 thing of her anxiety was reflected on his face. I even 
 fancied that his color changed as he waited for one of us 
 
 O 
 
 to speak. 
 
 In the interest with which I regarded him, I had almost 
 forgotten my errand. There was a sudden burning smell, 
 and an exclamation from Mrs. Maloney. 
 
 " Hugh, my boy look what y 're a-doin' ! The shirt, 
 whativer shall I do if y 've burnt a hole in it ? " 
 
 Hugh's hand, holding the iron, had rested, in his suspense, 
 fortunately not upon the shirt, but the blanket under it, 
 making a yellow, elliptical scorch. lie flung down the iron 
 before the little grate, and said, almost fiercely : 
 
 " Why couldn 't you tell me at once, mother ! " 
 
 " I have the money, Mrs. Maloney," I answered for her, 
 
 " the fifteen dollars and a little more." 
 
 " I knowed you 'd bring it ! " she exclaimed ; " what 
 didn't I tell you, Hugh ? I was afeared to be too shure, 
 but somethin' told me I 'd be helped. Bless God we '11 see 
 good times yit, though they 've been so long a-comin' ! " 
 
 The tears were running down her face, as she tried to 
 gay some words of thanks. Hugh's eyes were moist, 
 too; he darted a single grateful glance at me, but said 
 nothing, and presently, seating himself on the wooden 
 stool, began to whistle " Garryowen." I delivered into 
 Mrs. Maloney's hands the fifteen dollars, and then sever 
 more (having added three, as my own contribution) for an)
 
 304 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 additional necessities. I explained to her how the sum had 
 been raised as a free and willing gift, not a loan to be re- 
 paid by painful savings from her scanty earnings. Then, 
 beginning to look upon myself as a benefactor, I added 
 some words of counsel which I might well have spared. 
 With a more sensitive subject, I fancy they would have an- 
 nulled any feeling of obligation towards me ; but Mary 
 Maloney was too sincerely grateful not to receive them 
 humbly and respectfully. She begged to be allowed to 
 take charge of my washing, which I agreed to give her on 
 condition that I should pay the usual rates. Her intention, 
 however, as I afterwards discovered, included the careful 
 reparation of frayed linen, the replacement of buttons, and 
 the darning of stockings ; and in this way my virtue was 
 its own reward. 
 
 I turned towards Hugh, in whom, also, I began to feel a 
 protecting interest After a little hesitancy, which mostly 
 originated in his pride, he talked freely and quite intelli- 
 gently about his trade. It was a large establishment, and 
 they did work for a great many rich families. After an- 
 other year, he would get five dollars a week, taking one 
 season with another. He liked the place, although they 
 gave him the roughest and heaviest jobs, he being stronger 
 in the arms than any of the other boys. He could read 
 and write a little, he said, would like to have a chance 
 to learn more, but there was ironing to do every night 
 He had to help his mother to keep her customers ; it was 
 n't a man's work, but he did n't mind that, at all, it 
 rent a little ways towards paying for his keep. 
 
 Something in the isolated life and mutual dependence of 
 this poor widow and son reminded me of my own boyish 
 days. For the first time in many months I spoke of my 
 mother, feeling sure that the humble understandings I ad- 
 dressed would yet appreciate all that I could relate. My 
 heart was relieved and softened as I spoke of mother's self- 
 denial, of her secret sufferings and her tragic death ; and
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 805 
 
 Mary Maloney, though she only said " Dear, dear ! " took, 1 
 was sure, every word into her heart Hugh listened atten- 
 tively, and the impudent, precocious expression of manhood 
 vanished entirely from his face. When I had finished, and 
 rose to leave, his mother said, 
 
 " I must ha' felt that you was the son of a widow, this 
 afternoon, when I set eyes on ye. Her blessed soul is satis 
 fied with ye this night, and ye don't need my blessin', but 
 you have it all the same. Hugh won't forgit ye, neither, 
 rill ye, Hugh?" 
 
 a I reckon not," Hugh answered, rather doggedly. 
 
 I had a better evidence of the fact, however, when 
 Christmas came. He found his way to my room before I 
 was dressed, and with an air half sheepish, half defiant, 
 laid a package on the table, saying, 
 
 " Mother says she sends you a Merry Christmas, and 
 many of 'em. I 've brought an upholstery along for you. 
 I made it myself." 
 
 I shook hands and thanked him, whereupon he said, 
 "All right ! " and retired. On opening the package, I 
 found the " upholstery " to be a gigantic hemispherical 
 pincushion of scarlet brocade, set in a gilt octagonal frame 
 of equal massiveness. A number of new pins, rather crook- 
 edly forming the letters "J. G.," were already inserted in 
 it It was almost large enough for a footstool, and re- 
 minded me of Hugh's red head every time I looked at it 
 but I devoutly gave it the place of honor on my toilet 
 table. 
 
 It was the only Christmas gift I received that year.
 
 806 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 A DINNER-PARTY AT DELMONICO's. 
 
 I SAW very little of Penrose for some weeks after oui 
 first meeting. He was much occupied with his arrange- 
 ments for entering the mercantile firm with the beginning 
 of the coming year, and these arrangements obliged him 
 to revisit Philadelphia in the mean time. Matilda or, 
 rather, Mr. Edmund Shanks invited me to dine with 
 them at the St. Nicholas, but pitched upon a day when my 
 duties positively prevented my acceptance of the invita- 
 tion. This was no cause of regret, for I was not drawn 
 towards my cousin, and could not forgive the two fingers of 
 her husband. For Penrose I retained much of the old at- 
 tachment, but his nature was so different from mine that 
 the innermost chamber of my heart remained closed at his 
 approach. I doubted whether it ever would open. 
 
 One evening in December he called upon me in Bleeck- 
 er Street. However I might reason against his haughti- 
 ness, his proud, disdainful air when he was absent, one 
 smile from those superb lips, one gentler glance from those 
 flashing eyes disarmed me. There was a delicate flattery, 
 which T could not withstand, in the fact that this demigod (in 
 a physical sense), with his air of conscious power, became 
 human for me, for me, alone, of all his acquaintances 
 whom I knew, laid aside his mask. Nothing made me re- 
 spect myself so much as the knowledge that he respected 
 me. 
 
 " You have a very passable den, John," he remarked, 
 darting a quick, keen glance around my room ; " rather a
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 307 
 
 Contrast to our bed in Dr. Dyriond's garret. How singu- 
 larly things turn out, to be sure ! Which of us would hav 
 suspected this that night when the Doctor made me share 
 sheets with you ? Yet, I had a notion then that you would 
 be mixed up somehow with my life." 
 
 " You were very careful not to give me any hint of it,' 
 I answered, laughing. 
 
 *' I was right. Even if you are sure that an impression 
 B a prophetic instinct, not a mere whim, it is best to wait 
 until it proves itself. Then you are safe, in either case. 
 There is no such element of weakness as superfluous frank- 
 ness. I don't mean that it would have done any harm, in 
 our case, but when I deliberately give myself a rule I like 
 to stick to it. Only one man in a hundred will suspect that 
 you have an emotion when you 'don't express it. You are 
 thus, without any trouble, master of the ninety-nine, and 
 can meet the hundredth with your whole strength." 
 
 "Are you frank now ? " I asked. 
 
 " John," said he, gravely, " don't, I beg of you, play at 
 words with me. I will confess to you that I should become 
 morally blase if I could not, once in a year or so, be utterly 
 candid with somebody. I 'm glad you give me the chance, 
 and if I recommend my rule to you, don't turn it against 
 me. You are not the innocent boy I knew in Honeybrook, 
 I can see that, plainly, but you are an innocent man, 
 compared with myself. I hope there will always be this 
 difference between us." 
 
 " I can't promise that, Alexander," I said, " but I will 
 promise that there shall be no other difference." 
 
 He took my hand, gave it a squeeze, and then, resuming 
 his usual careless tone, said, " By the bye, I must not for- 
 get one part of my errand. Shanks is to give a little din- 
 ner at Delmonico's next Saturday, ten or a dozen persons 
 jn all. and he wants you to be one of the party. Now, 
 don't look so blank ; / want you to come. Matilda has 
 been reading your book, and she has persuaded Shanks
 
 308 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 (who knows no more about poetry than he does about 
 horses, though he buys both) that you are a great genius 
 You can bother him, and bring him to your feet in ten sen- 
 tences, if you choose. The dinner will be something su- 
 perb, between ourselves, ten dollars par convert, without 
 the wine, and I have private orders from Matilda not to 
 accept yo ir refusal, on any pretext." 
 
 I frankly told Penrose that I did not like Shanks, but 
 would accept the invitation, if he insisted upon it, rather 
 than appear ungracious. I stipulated, however, that we 
 should have neighboring seats, if possible. 
 
 When the time arrived, I took an omnibus down Broad- 
 way, in no very festive humor. I anticipated a somewhat 
 more solemn and stiff repetition of Mrs. De Peyster's board 
 and its flat, flippant conversation* The servant conducted 
 me to a private parlor on the second floor, where I found 
 the host and most of the guests assembled. Matilda wel- 
 comed me very cordially as " Cousin Godfrey," and Shanks 
 this time gave me his whole hand with an air of deference 
 which I did not believe to be real. Knowing Matilda's 
 critical exactness, I had taken special pains to comply with 
 the utmost requirements of custom, in the matter of dress 
 and manners, and if my demeanor was a little more stiff 
 than usual, I am sure that was no disparagement in the eyes 
 of the others. My apprenticeship at Mrs. De Peyster's 
 table had done me good service ; I could see by Penrose 's 
 eyes that I acquitted myself creditably. 
 
 The remaining guests arrived about the same time. We 
 were presented to each other with becoming formality, and 
 I made a mechanical effort to retain the names I heard, for 
 that evening, at least They were only important to me 
 for the occasion, for I neither expected nor cared to see 
 any of them again. I noticed that there were three ladies 
 besides Matilda, but merely glanced at them indiflerentlj 
 until the name " Miss Haworth " arrested my attention 
 Then I recollected the violet eyes, the low white brow,
 
 JOHX GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 30? 
 
 and the rippling light-brown hair. Seeing a quick recog 
 lition in her face, I bowed and said, " I have already had 
 the pleasure, I believe." 
 
 At these words, a gentleman standing near her, to whom 
 I had not yet been introduced, turned and looked at me 
 either sharply. She must have noticed the movement, for 
 she said to me, with (I thought) a slight embarrassment in 
 her tone. " My brother, Mr. Floyd." 
 
 Mr. Floyd bowed stiffly, without offering me his hand 
 I was amazed to find that he could be the brother of Miss 
 Haworth, so different, not only in name but in feature 
 I looked at them both as I exchanged the usual common- 
 places of an incipient acquaintance, and was more and more 
 convinced that there could be no relationship between 
 them. His face struck me as mean, cunning, and sensual ; 
 hers frank, pure, and noble. It was a different type efface 
 from that of any woman I remembered, yet the strong im- 
 pression of having once seen it before returned to my mind. 
 I was surprised at myself for having paid so little attention 
 to her when we first met in Mr. Clarendon's house. 
 
 Though her voice had that calm, even sweetness which 
 I have always considered to be the most attractive quality 
 in woman, it was not in the least like Amanda Bratton's. 
 Hers would have sounded thin and hard after its full, melt- 
 ing, tremulous music. It belonged as naturally to the 
 beauty of her lips as tint and pearly enamel to a sea-shell. 
 Her quiet, unobtrusive air was allied to a self-possession 
 almost beyond her years, for she could not have been 
 more than twenty. Though richly and fashionably dressed, 
 she had chosen soft, neutral colors, without a glitter or 
 sparkle, except from the sapphires in her ears and at her 
 throat I was not yet competent to feel a very enthusiastic 
 tdmiration, but I was conscious that the sight of her filled 
 me with a pleasant sense of comfort and repose. 
 
 " Isabel," said Mrs. Shanks, tapping Miss Haworth* 
 shoulder with her fan, " on * servi. Will you take Mr 
 Godfrey's arm ? "
 
 310 JOIIN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 I bowed and crooked my elbow, and we followed th 
 other ladies into the adjoining room. The touch of the 
 gloved hand affected me singularly ; I know not what soft 
 happy warmth diffused itself through my frame from that 
 slight point of contact The magnetism of physical near 
 ness never before affected me so delicately yet so power- 
 fully. 
 
 Matilda seated the guests according to her own will, and 
 with her usual tact Her brother's future partners were 
 her own supporters, while Shanks was flanked by their 
 wives. Miss Haworth was assigned to the central seat on 
 one side of the oval table, between Penrose and myself, 
 with Mr. Floyd and two other young fashionables facing us. 
 The table was resplendent with cut-glass and silver, and 
 fragrant with gorgeous piles of tropical flowers and fruit 
 the room dazzling with the white lustre of gas, and the ac- 
 complished French servants glided to and fro with stealthy 
 elegance. The devil of Luxury within me chuckled and 
 clapped his hands with delight If Life would furnish me, 
 with more such dinners, I thought, I might find it tolerably 
 sunny. 
 
 The dinner was a masterpiece of art Both the natural 
 harmonies and the conventional stipulations were respect- 
 ed. We had oysters and Chablis, turtle-soup succeeded by 
 glasses of iced punch, fish and sherry, and Riidesheimer, 
 Clicquot Burgundy, Lafitte, and liqueurs in their proper 
 succession, accompanying the wondrous alternation of 
 courses. Hitherto, I had been rather omniverous in my 
 tastes, only preferring good things to bad, but now I 
 perceived that even the material profession of cooking had 
 its artistic ideal. 
 
 The conversation, as was meet ran mostly upon the 
 dishes which were placed before us. Mr. Shanks devel- 
 oped an immense amount of knowledge in this direction, 
 affirming that he had given special directions for a single 
 clove of garlic to be laid for five minutes on a plate witfc
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 811 
 
 certain coteleftes en papillotes, under a glass cover ; that the 
 canvas-back ducks should be merely carried through a hot 
 kitchen, which was cooking enough for them ; and that the 
 riz de veau would have been ruined if he had not procured, 
 with great difficulty, a particular kind of pea which only 
 grew in the neighborhood of Arras. The Lafitte, he said, 
 was "the '34, from the lower part of the hill; Delmon- 
 ico won't acknowledge that he has it, unless you happen to 
 know, and even then it 's a great favor to get a few bot- 
 tles." 
 
 " Many persons can't tell the '34 from the '46," said one 
 of the partners, setting the rim of his glass under his nos- 
 trils and sniffing repeatedly ; " but you notice the difference 
 in the bouquet." 
 
 It really seemed to me that this voluptuous discussion 
 of the viands as they appeared, this preliminary tasting, 
 this lingering enjoyment of the rare and peculiar qualities, 
 this prelusive aroma of the vine, tempering yet fixing its 
 flavor, constituted an aesthetic accompaniment which bal- 
 anced the physical task of the meal and called upon the 
 brain to assist the stomach. I drank but sparingly of the 
 wines, however, being warned by the growing flush on the 
 faces of the three young gentlemen opposite, and restrained 
 by the sweet, sober freshness of Miss Haworth's cheek, at 
 my side. 
 
 As the conversation grew riotous in tone, and laughter 
 and repartee (mostly of a stupid character, but answering 
 the purpose as well as the genuine article) ruled the table, 
 my gentle neighbor seemed to encourage my attempts to 
 withdraw from the noisy circle of talk and establish a quiet 
 tete a fete between our two selves. Penrose was occupied 
 with one of his partners and Matilda with the other ; Mr 
 Floyd was relating the last piece of scandal, with the cor 
 Actions and additions of his neighbors, and each and all 
 so absorbed m their several subjects that we were left in 
 comparative privacy.
 
 S12 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 " Have you long known my cousin, Mrs. Shanks ? " 1 
 asked. 
 
 " Only familiarly since last summer, when we were at 
 Long Branch together. We had met before, in society 
 once or twice, but one never makes acquaintances in thaf 
 way." 
 
 " Do you think we can ever say that we are truly ac- 
 quainted with any one ? " said I. 
 
 " Why not ? " she asked, after a look in which I read a 
 little surprise at the question. 
 
 I felt that my words had been thrown to the surface from 
 a hidden movement of dislike to the society present, which 
 lurked at the bottom of my mind. They shot away so sud- 
 denly and widely from my first question that some ex- 
 planation was necessary ; yet I could not give the true one. 
 She waited for my answer, and I was compelled to a partial 
 candor. 
 
 " I believe," I said, " that the word ' acquainted ' put the 
 question into my head. I have been obliged to reverse my 
 first impressions so often that it seems better not to trust 
 them. And I have really wondered whether men can truly 
 know each other." 
 
 " Perhaps nearly as well as they can know themselves, 
 said she. " When I see some little vanity, which is plain 
 to every one except its possessor, I fancy that the same 
 thing may very easily be true of myself." 
 
 " You, Miss Haworth ! " I exclaimed. 
 
 " I as well as another. You do not suppose that I con- 
 sider myself to be without faults." 
 
 " No, of course not," I answered, so plumply and ear- 
 nestly that she smiled, looking very much amused. But 
 the fact is, I had made a personal application of her first 
 remark, and answered for myself rather than for her. Per- 
 ceiving this, I could not help smiling in turn. 
 
 " I confess," I said, " that F have mine, but I try to con- 
 ceal them from others."
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 313 
 
 u And you would be very angry if they were detected ? " 
 
 " Yes, I think I would." 
 
 " Yet all your friends may know them, nevertheless," 
 said she, " and keep silent towards you as you towards them. 
 Do you think universal candor would be any better ? For 
 my part, I fancy it would soon set us all together by the 
 ears." 
 
 " Just what I told you, John," said Penrose, striking in 
 from the other side. " Candor is weakness." 
 
 " I begin to think so, too," I remarked gloomily. " De- 
 ceit seems to be the rule of the world ; I find it wherever 
 I turn. If the outside of the sepulchre shows the conven- 
 tional whitewash, it makes no difference how many skele- 
 tons are inside." 
 
 I took up a little glass toy which stood before me, filled, 
 apparently, with green oil. It slid down my throat like a 
 fiery, perfumed snake. 
 
 " Penrose ! " cried Mr. Floyd, " is that the Chartreuse be- 
 fore you ? " 
 
 " No," said the former, turning the bottle, " it 's Cura- 
 
 " Ah, that reminds me," cried Mr. Shanks, commencing 
 a fresh story, which I did not care to hear. The old feel- 
 ing of sadness and depression began to steal over me, and 
 the loud gayety of the table became more hollow and dis- 
 tasteful than ever. 
 
 " Mr. Godfrey," said Miss Haworth, a little timidly. 
 
 I looked up. Her clear violet eyes were fixed upon me 
 with a disturbed expression, and there may have been, for 
 a second, a wanner tinge on her cheek, as she addressed 
 me, 
 
 " I am afraid you misunderstood me. I think a candid 
 nature is the highest and best I only meant that there is 
 no use in constantly reminding our friends, or they us, of 
 little human weaknesses. We may be candid, certainly, 
 without ceasing to be charitable."
 
 314 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 " Yes, we may be," I said, " but who is ? Where is> there 
 a nature which may be relied upon, first and forever? 1 
 once thought the world was full of such, but I am cured of 
 my folly." 
 
 The trouble in her eyes deepened. " I am sorry to hear 
 you say so," she said, in a low voice, and began mechanically 
 pulling to pieces a bunch of grapes. 
 
 My bitter mood died in an instant. I felt that my words 
 were not only false in themselves, but false as the utterance 
 of my belief. There were, there must be, truth and honor 
 in men and women ; I was true, and was there no other 
 virtue in the world than mine ? I could have bitten my 
 tongue for vexation. To retract my expressions on the 
 spot, and I now perceived how positively they had been 
 made, would prove me to be a whimsical fool, and Miss 
 Haworth must continue to believe me the negatist I seemed. 
 In vain I tried to console myself with the thought that it 
 made no difference. A deeper instinct told me that it did, 
 that the opinion of a pure-hearted girl was not a thing 
 to be lightly esteemed. I had flattered myself on the social 
 tact I had acquired, but my first serious conversation told 
 me what a bungler I still was, in allowing the egotism of 
 a private disappointment to betray itself and misrepresent 
 my nature to another. 
 
 While these thoughts flashed through my mind, Pen- 
 rose had commenced a conversation with Miss Haworth. 
 Glancing around the table, I encountered Matilda's dark 
 eyes. " Cousin Godfrey ! " she called to me, " how do yoii 
 vote ? shall we stay or go ? Edmund always sits with 
 his head in a cloud, at home, and very often Aleck with 
 him ; so I think if we open the door and let down the win- 
 dows, the atmosphere will be endurable, only you gen- 
 tlemen generally prefer to banish us. I don 't believe it 's 
 any good that you say or do when you get rid of us." 
 
 " Stay," said I. " There will be no cloud from my lips 
 Why should you not keep your seats, and let the gentle- 
 men withdraw, if there must be a division ? "
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 81 
 
 u Gallantly spoken, cousin. But I see that Edmund has 
 jhe consent of his neighbors, and is puffing to make up for 
 lost time. I congratulate you on your wives, gentlemen : 
 I thought I was the only veteran present. Isabel! the} 
 are not driving you away, I hope ? " 
 
 " Oh, no ! " said Miss Haworth, who had risen from her 
 seat ; " but father is home from the Club by this time, and 
 he always likes to have a little music before going to bed, 
 Tracy, will you please see if the carriage is waiting ? " 
 
 Mr. Floyd put his head out of the window and called, 
 " James ! " " Here, sir ! " came up from the street, and 
 Miss Haworth, giving a hand to Matilda and her husband, 
 and leaving a pleasant " Good-night ! " for the rest of us, 
 collectively, glided from the room. Mr. Shanks escorted 
 her to her carriage. 
 
 This little interruption was employed by the company as 
 an opportunity to change their places at the table. A sign 
 from Matilda called me to an empty chair beside her. 
 
 " I 'm so glad you 're a poet, Cousin Godfrey," she said, 
 " the first in our family ; and I assure you we have need 
 of the distinction to balance the mesalliance, you know 
 all about it from Aleck, though you 're not near enough 
 related to be hurt by it as we were. I think we shall come 
 to New York to live : Edmund prefers it, and one gets 
 tired of Philadelphia in the long run. We have plenty of 
 style there, to be sure ; but our set is very much the same 
 from year to year. Here, it may be a little too free, too 
 qvH est ce que c' est ? easy of entrance, but there 's a deal 
 more life and variety. Don't you think so ? but, of course, 
 you gentlemen are never so particular. Society would fall 
 into ruin, if it was n't for us." 
 
 " It 's very well you save society, for you ruin individu 
 als,' I remarked. 
 
 " Hear that, Aleck ! " she exclaimed ; " I did n't think it 
 was in him. You have certainly been giving him lesson* 
 hi your own infidelity. He will spoil you, Cousin Godfrey.'
 
 116 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 Penrose looked at me and laughed. " I 'm glad you are 
 a match for 'Till, John," he said. " If I 've taught you, the 
 pupil surpasses the teacher." 
 
 Much more of this badinage followed. My apprentice- 
 ship to words and phrases gave me an advantage in the 
 use of it, and I was reckless enough to care little what I 
 said, so that my words had some point and brilliancy. 
 Penrose was more than a match for me, but he consider- 
 ately held back and allowed me to triumph over the others. 
 It was as he predicted ; I brought Mr. Edmund Shanks tc 
 my feet in ten sentences. He called me " Cousin God- 
 frey," and said, repeatedly, in a somewhat thick voice, " If 
 you only smoked, you would be a trump." 
 
 " He '11 come to that after a while ; he can't have all the 
 virtues at once," remarked Mr. Floyd. I liked neither the 
 tone nor the look of the man : a sneer seemed to lurk 
 under his light, laughing air. He was one of the two or 
 three who had lighted their cigars, and substituted brandy 
 and ice for the soft, fragrant wines of Bordeaux. A sharp 
 retort rose to my tongue, but I held it back from an instinct 
 which told me that he would welcome an antagonism / had 
 authorized. 
 
 It was near midnight when the guests separated, and as 
 we descended in a body to the street, we found the three 
 coachmen asleep on their boxes. 
 
 " Are you not going to get in, Aleck ? " said Matilda, as 
 Penrose slammed the door. 
 
 " No ; I am going to walk with Godfrey. Good-night ! " 
 
 Mr. Floyd joined us, smoking his cigar, humming opera- 
 tunes and commenting freely upon the company, as we 
 walked up Broadway. When we reached the corner of 
 Howard Street, he muttered something about an engage 
 ment, and turned off to the left 
 
 Penrose laughed as he gave utterance to certain sur- 
 mises, in what seemed to me a very cold-blooded manner 
 He took my arm as he added : "I don't kn nv that Floyd
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 817 
 
 is any worse than most of the young New Yorkers; but 
 he 's rather a bore to me, and I 'm glad to get rid of him. 
 I see so much of the class that I grow tired of it, yet I 
 suppose I belong to it myself." 
 
 " Not in character, Alexander ! " I protested : " you have 
 talent, and pride, and principle ! " 
 
 " None too much of either, unless it be pride," he said 
 "Take care you don't overrate me. I can be intenselj 
 selfish, and you may discover the fact, some day. What- 
 ever I demand with all the force of my nature I must 
 have, and will trample down anything and anybody that 
 comes between. You have only seen the mother's blood 
 in me, John. There is a good deal of my father's, and it is 
 bad." 
 
 I saw the dark knitting of his brows in the lamplight, 
 and strove to turn aside the gloomy introversion of his 
 mood. 4> How is it," I asked, " that this Floyd is a brother 
 of Miss Haworth ? " 
 
 " Step-brother, by marriage," he answered " He is hi 
 reality no relation. Old Floyd was a widower with one 
 son when he married the widow Haworth, some ten 
 years ago, I believe: Matilda knows all about it, and 
 the boy and girl called themselves brother and sister. 
 The old man has a stylish house on Gramercy Park, but 
 he 's an inveterate stock-jobber, and has failed twice in the 
 last five years. I suspect she keeps up the establishment" 
 
 " How ? " 
 
 " She 's an heiress. Two thirds of her father's property 
 were settled on her, some hundreds of thousands, I 've 
 been told. No wonder Floyd would like to marry her." 
 
 " He ? Is it possible ? " I exclaimed. 
 
 " That 's the gossip ; and it is possible. He is no rela- 
 tion, as I have said, but I fancy she has a mind of her own. 
 She seems to be a nice, sensible girl. What do you think ? 
 You saw much more of her than I did." 
 
 " Sensible, yes," said I, slowly, for I had in fact no*
 
 318 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 decided what I thought of her, " so far as I could judge , 
 and almost beautiful. But her face puzzles me : I seem to 
 have seen it already, yet " 
 
 Penrose interrupted me. " I know what you mean. I 
 saw it, also, and was bothered for two minutes. The 
 engraving of St Agnes, from somebody's picture, in Gou- 
 pil's window. It is very like her. Here is the St. Nicho- 
 las ; won't you come in ? Then good-night, old fellow, and 
 a clear head to you in the morning ! " 
 
 Yes ; that was it ! I remembered the picture, and as I 
 walked homeward alone, along the echoing pavement, I 
 murmured to myself, 
 
 " The shadows of the convent-towers 
 
 Slant down the snowy sward, 
 Still creeping with the creeping hours 
 That lead me to my Lord." 
 
 1 don't know what strange, poetic whim possessed me : 
 that I should have made the purchase of the engraving 
 my first business on Monday morning.
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. S1Q 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 CONTAINING, AMONG OTHER THINGS, MY VISIT TO THE 
 ICHNEUMON. 
 
 AFTER the first of January, Penrose became a membei 
 of the firm of Dunn, Deering & Co., whose tall iron ware- 
 house on Chambers Street is known to everybody. Having 
 very properly determined to master the details of the busi- 
 ness at the start, he was so constantly occupied that I saw 
 little of him for two or three months thereafter. Mr. and 
 Mrs. Shanks lingered still a few weeks before returning to 
 Philadelphia, but their time was mostly devoted to up-town 
 balls, which I had no wish to attend, although Matilda of- 
 fered herself as godmother of my social baptism. My days 
 and the greater part of my nights were appropriated, and 
 by no means unpleasantly, to my business duties. Little 
 by little, I found my style increasing in point and fluency, 
 and the subjects assigned to my pen began to present them- 
 selves in a compact, coherent form. I was proud enough 
 not to accept an increase of salary without endeavoring tc 
 render adequate service, and thus the exertions I made re- 
 warded themselves. 
 
 In my case, Schiller's " Occupation, which never wearies 
 which slowly creates, and destroys nothing," was a help- 
 ing and protecting principle, how helpful, indeed, I was 
 yet to learn. I had been wounded too deeply to wear 
 painless scar ; the old smart came back, from time to time 
 to torment me, but my life was much more cheerful than 
 I could have anticipated. My affections still lacked an 
 object, constantly putting forth tendrilled shoots to wither 
 in the air, but my intellectual ambition began to revive, 
 though in a soberer form. I had still force enough to con-
 
 320 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 trol the luxurious cravings of my physical nature, the 
 thirst for all the enjoyments of sense, which increased with 
 my maturing blood. When I coveted wealth, I was aware 
 that it was not alone for the sake of leisure for study and 
 opportunities of culture ; it was for the wine as well as the 
 bread of Life. I saw that velvet made a pleasanter sen: 
 than wood ; that pheasants tasted better than pork ; that a 
 box at the opera was preferable to leaning out of a garret- 
 window and listening to Costa diva played on a hand-oigan. 
 in short, that indulgence of every kind was more agree- 
 able than abstinence. 
 
 I know that many good people will draw down their 
 brows and shake their heads when they read this confes- 
 sion. But I beg them to remember that I am not preach- 
 ing, nor even moralizing ; I am simply stating the facts of 
 my life. Nay, the fact, I am sure, of most lives ; for, al- 
 though I do not claim to be better, I steadfastly protest 
 against being considered worse, than the average of men. 
 Therefore, you good people, whose lips overflow with pro- 
 fessions of duty towards your fellow-beings, and the beauty 
 of self-denial, and the sin of indulgence, look, I pray you, 
 into your own hearts, whether there be no root of the old 
 weed remaining, whether some natural appetite do not, 
 now and then, still send up a green shoot which it costs 
 you some trouble to cut off, before weighing my youth in 
 your balance. It is no part of my plan to make of myself 
 an immaculate hero of romance. I fear, alas ! that I am 
 not a hero in any sense. I have touched neither the deeps 
 nor the heights : I have only looked down into the one and 
 up towards the other, in lesser vibrations on either side of 
 that noteless middle line which most men travel from birth 
 to death. 
 
 My affection for Swansford kept alive in my heart a faint 
 but vital faith in the existence of genuine emotions. I saw 
 him once a week, for we had agreed to spend our Sunday 
 afternoons together, alternately, in each other's rooms. He
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 321 
 
 still disposed of an occasional song, as I of a story, but his 
 great work was not completed, had not been touched for 
 months, he informed me. He was subject to fits of pro- 
 found dejection, which, I suspected, proceeded from a phys- 
 ical cause. lie was decidedly paler and thinner than when 
 I first made his acquaintance. The drudgery of his lessons 
 frequently rendered him impatient and irritable, and he 
 was anxious to procure a situation as organist, which would 
 yield enough to support him in his humble way. I wanted 
 to bring him together with Penrose, in the hope that the 
 latter might be able to assist him, but feared to propose a 
 meeting to two such diverse characters, and, up to this 
 time, accident had not favored my plan. 
 
 The Friday evening receptions of Mrs. Yorkton I beg 
 pardon, Adeliza Choate continued to be given, but I did 
 not often attend them. I had been fortunate enough to 
 obtain entrance to the literary soirees of another lady whom 
 I will not name, but whose tact, true refinement of charac- 
 ter, and admirable culture drew around her all that was 
 best in letters and in the arts. In her salons I saw the pos- 
 sessors of honored and illustrious names ; I heard books 
 and pictures discussed with the calm discrimination of in- 
 telligent criticism ; the petty vanities and jealousies I had 
 hitherto encountered might still exist, but they had no 
 voice ; and I soon perceived the difference between those 
 who aspire and those who achieve. Art, I saw, has its own 
 peculiar microcosm, its born nobles, its plodding, consci- 
 entious, respectable middle-class, and its clamorous, fighting 
 rabble. To whatever class I might belong, I could not shut 
 my eyes to the existing degrees, and much of my respect 
 for the coarse assertion of Smithers, the petulant conceit 
 of Danforth, and the extravagant inspiration of the once 
 adored Adeliza evaporated in the contrast 
 
 To Brandagee all these circles seemed to be open ; yet 
 I could not help noticing that he preferred those where his 
 superior experience made him at once an authority and a 
 21
 
 322 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 fear. The rollicking devil in him was impatient of restraint 
 and he had too much tact to let it loose at inopportune times 
 and places. I sometimes met him in those delightful rooms 
 which no author or artist who lived in New York at that 
 time can have forgotten, and was not surprised to see that, 
 even in his subdued character, he still inspired a covetable 
 interest He now came to the Wonder office but seldom. 
 He could never be relied upon to have his articles ready 
 at the appointed time, and there had been some quarrel 
 between him and Mr. Clarendon, in consequence of which 
 he transferred his services to the Avenger. I had become 
 such a zealous disciple of the former paper that I looked 
 apon this transfer as almost involving a sacrifice of prin 
 ciple. Mr. Clarendon, however, seemed to care little about 
 it, for he did not scruple still to send to Brandagee for an 
 article on some special subject 
 
 He had at one time a scheme for publishing a small 
 fashionable daily, to be devoted to the opera and the drama, 
 artistic and literary criticism, the turf, dress, and other 
 kindred subjects ; the type and paper to be of the utmost 
 elegance, and the contents to rival in epigrammatic bril- 
 liancy, boldness, and impertinence the best productions of 
 the Parisian feuilletonistes. Had the wealth of many of 
 the New York families been any index of their culture, tht 
 scheme might have succeeded, but it was too hazardous to 
 entrap any publisher of sufficient means. He then deter- 
 mined to repeat the attempt in a less ambitious form, a 
 weekly paper instead of a daily, which would involve 
 little preliminary expense, and might be easily dropped if 
 it failed to meet expectations. It was to be called k ' The Oity 
 Oracle" and to bear the familiar quotation from Shakspeare 
 as its device. I had heard Brandagee discuss the plan 
 with Mr. Withering (who decidedly objected to it, very 
 much preferring a Quarterly Review), and had promised, 
 incidentally, to contribute a sketch for the first number 
 if it should ever make its appearance.
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 328 
 
 Towards the close of winter, I think it was in Feb- 
 ruary, I met Brandagee one evening, as he was issuing 
 from the Smithsonian, cigar in mouth, as usual. 
 
 " Ha! " he exclaimed; "I was this moment thinking of 
 you. You have nothing to do at this hour, come around 
 with me to the Ichneumon. We are going to talk over 
 The Oracle. Babcock has as good as promised to under- 
 take the publication." 
 
 " Indeed ? " said I. " When will you begin ? " 
 " The first number ought to appear within ten or twelve 
 days. That will leave me three weeks of the opera season, 
 long enough to make a sensation, and have the paper 
 talked about. Notoriety is the life of a new undertaking of 
 this kind. I can count on six pens already, including yours 
 and my own. In fact, I could do the whole work alone on a 
 pinch ; though I don't profess to be equal to Souville. You 
 never heard of Thersite Souville, I dare say : he wrote the 
 whole of Gargantua, just such a paper as I intend to 
 make my Oracle, editorials, criticisms, gossip and feuille- 
 ton ; and everybody supposed that the best intellect in Paris 
 was employed upon it, regardless of expense. He was up 
 to any style, but he always changed his beverage with his 
 pen. For the manner of Sue, he drank hot punch ; for 
 Dumas, cider mousseiix ; Gautier or De Musset, absinthe ; 
 Paul de Kock, Strasburg beer, and so on. It was a great 
 speculation for his publisher, who cleared a hundred and 
 fifty thousand francs a year, one third of which was Sou- 
 ville's share. If he had not been so vain as to blab the 
 secret, he might have kept it up to this day. Come on ; 
 you'll find all my coadjutors at the Ichneumon." 
 
 " Where is the Ichneumon," I asked, " and what is it ? " 
 " Not know it ! You are a green Bohemian. Close at 
 hand, in Crosby Street The name is my suggestion, and 
 I 'm rather proud of it. When the landlord Miles, who 
 used to be bar-tender at the ' Court of Appeals ' took 
 his new place, he was puzzled to get a title, as all the
 
 324 .OHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 classic epithets. Shades, Pewter Mugs. Banks, Houses of 
 Commons, Nightingales, Badgers, and Dolphins, were appro- 
 priated by others. I offered to give him a stunning name, 
 in consideration of occasional free drinks. I first hit on the 
 Ornithorhynchus paradoxus, which was capital; but Miles 
 was fool enough to think that nobody could ever pronounce 
 or remember it. Then I gave him the Ichneumon, with 
 which he was satisfied, he, as well as all Crosby Street, 
 calls it ' Ike Newman.' I 've persuaded him to give us a 
 backroom, and keep a bed up-stairs for any fellow who is 
 boozy or belated. We shall make a classic place of it, 
 and if the Oracle once fairly open its mouth, the croco- 
 diles must look out for their eggs ! " 
 
 We reached the house, almost before he had done speak- 
 ing. It was an old-fashioned brick dwelling, the lower story 
 of which had been altered to suit the requirements of the 
 times. An octagonal lantern, on the front glass of which 
 an animal " very like a weasel " was painted, hung over 
 the door, and through the large adjoining window there 
 was a spectral vision of a bar somewhere in the shadowy 
 depths of the house. 
 
 The landlord was leaning over the counter, talking to a 
 group of flashy gents, as we entered. He had the unmis- 
 takable succulent flesh and formless mouth of an English- 
 man, but with his hair closely cropped behind, and the back 
 of his neck shaved in a straight line around from ear to 
 ear, like a Bowery boy. 
 
 " Miles," said Brandagee, " another of us, Mr. God- 
 frey." 
 
 " Y'r most obediei t 'ope to see you often," said Miles, 
 rising to an erect posture and giving me his hand. 
 
 "Anybody in the Cave, Miles?" 
 
 " There 's three gents, Mr. Brandagee, Smithers, for 
 one, the painter chap, and the heavy gent." 
 
 " Come on, then. Godfrey," said Brandagee, laughing 
 " It 's Ponder and Smears. I '11 bet a thousand ducats Pon-
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES 32 
 
 der wants to help us out, but, between you and me, his 
 didactics would be a millstone around our necks. I '11 man- 
 age him. This is the way to the Cave of Trophonius. 
 you understand." 
 
 He entered a narrow passage on the right of the bar, 
 pushed open with his foot a door at the further end, and 
 we found ourselves in a room of tolerable size, with a dense 
 blue atmosphere which threatened to eclipse the two sickly 
 gas-lights. Smithers had untied his scarlet cravat, and, 
 with head thrown back over the top of his arm-chair, suf- 
 fered his huge meerschaum pipe, lazily held between his 
 teeth, to dangle against his hairy throat Mr. S. Mears 
 was drawing his portrait in a condition of classic nudity, on 
 the margin of a newspaper, with the end of a burnt match. 
 Mr. Ponder, on the other side of the table, was talking, and 
 evidently in as heavy a style as he wrote. Both the latter 
 were smoking. All three started up briskly in their seats 
 at our entrance. 
 
 " Ouf ! " puffed Brandagee, with an expiration of delight 
 M "Well done ! This reminds me of the salon des images, as 
 Frederic Soulie called it, in the rear of the Cafe Dore. We 
 used to hire two or three of the servants to smoke in it for 
 an hour before our arrival. It was a special close commu- 
 nion of our own, and there was competition to get admitted, 
 though few could stand the test Cherubini had to leave 
 in a quarter of an hour, and as for Delacroix, I never saw 
 a sicker man. Let us improve this atmosphere before the 
 others come. Here, Godfrey, is a claro ; don 't be afraid, 
 you must commence some day." 
 
 I lighted the cigar, and made a feint of smoking it But 
 I never could acquire any liking for the habit, and my as- 
 sociates, after finding that I always spoiled an entire cigar 
 in the process of burning half an inch, finally ceased to 
 waste any more upon me. 
 
 " Well. Godfrey," said Brandagee. turning to me, " sine* 
 you are to be one of us, we '11 take your iritiation fee."
 
 326 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 " What shall it be ? " I asked. 
 
 " Oh, we won't be hard upon you. Beer through the 
 evening, with a modest bowl of punch as a stirrup-cup." 
 
 He rang a bell as he spoke, and we were all presently 
 supplied with corpulent mugs. There were two other ar- 
 rivals, one a reporter of the Avenger, the other a young 
 gentleman who had a clerkship in the Custom-House and 
 wrote for the magazines. I found myself more at home in 
 this company than at Mrs. Yorkton's. Though there was 
 rather a repellant absence of sentiment, there was, at least, 
 nothing of the mock article. Nobody attempted to play a 
 part, knowing the absurdity of wearing a mask behind the 
 curtain, and suspecting how soon it would be torn off, if at- 
 tempted. Thus the conversation, if occasionally coarse, if 
 unnecessarily profane, if scoffing and depreciative of much 
 that I knew to be good and noble, was always lively, racy, 
 and entertaining. I surmised that my associates were not 
 the best of men ; but then, on the other hand, they were 
 not bores. 
 
 The plan of the Oracle was first discussed. Each one, 
 I perceived, was quite willing to dictate the best possible 
 programme ; but Brandagee steadily kept before them the 
 fact that he was the originator of the idea, and would resent 
 dictation, while he was willing to receive suggestions. Be- 
 sides, Babcock, the publisher, had not yet fully committed 
 himself, and it all might end in smoke. His own specialty 
 of musical and dramatic criticism was an understood mat- 
 ter ; Hears was to undertake the art notices (" he paints 
 badly, and therefore he is tolerably sure to write well." 
 Brandagee whispered to me) ; the Avenger reporter was 
 selected to prepare the city gossip, while to the clerk and 
 myself was allotted the writing of short, lively stories or 
 sketches of character for the first page. There now only 
 remained Smithers and Ponder to be disposed of. The 
 former of these informed us that he was willing to con- 
 tribute passages from his " Kdda of the Present," an heroic.
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 327 
 
 muscular poem, in irregular metre ; and the latter thought 
 that an essay on " The Influence of Literature upon Na- 
 tional Character " would be an indispensable feature of the 
 new journal. 
 
 " Not in the first number," replied Brandagee ; " t/ica 
 must be all foam and sparkle. I don't contemplate many 
 heavy articles at any time. It might do for Vienna. When 
 my old friend Grillparzer founded his light Sonntagsblatt, 
 something like the Oracle in form, he began with arti- 
 cles on Hegel's Philosophy, the Cretan-Doric dialect, the 
 religion of the Ostiaks and a biography of Paracelsus. Lo- 
 cality makes all the difference in the world. We are nearer 
 the latitude of Paris than any other capital, and there, if 
 anything new has a didactic smell, the public won't touch 
 it" 
 
 "But the national feeling" commenced Mr. Ponder. 
 
 " Very well for the rural districts ; I don't find much of 
 it here. We are cosmopolitan, which is better. If I were 
 beginning in Boston I would give you eight columns four 
 for the Pilgrim Fathers, and four for a description of the 
 Common, as viewed from Bunker Hill Monument ; or if it 
 were Philadelphia, you should write a solid article, setting 
 forth the commercial decline of New York, but here we 
 care for nothing which does not bring a sensation with it 
 We are not provincial, not national, not jealous of oui 
 neighbors ; we live, enjoy, and pay roundly in order to be 
 diverted. The Oracle must be smart pert, hinting what 
 may not properly be said outright never behind with the 
 current scandal, and brilliantly, not stupidly, impudent 
 With these qualities it can't fail to be a success. It will 
 be a tongue which hundreds of people would pay well to 
 keep from wagging." 
 
 " The devil ! " exclaimed Hears ; " do you mean to make 
 \ black-mail concern of it ? " 
 
 u Don't be so quick on the trigger, young man ! I merely 
 referred to the power which we should hold. A thing maj
 
 328 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 be bid for, but you are not obliged to sell it In the wraj 
 of advertising, however, there would be great and certaii 
 profits ; we might enter into competition with Napoleon R 
 Quigg, or Gouraud's medicated epic. There are scores of 
 retail dry-goods merchants who would give fifty dollars a 
 piece to have their establishments mentioned in a novel ot 
 a play. I have a grand scheme for raising the wind, but 
 I won't disclose it to you just now." 
 
 Our mugs were replenished, and Brandagee, who seemed 
 to be in the mood for a harangue, went on again. 
 
 " There 's plenty of money in the world," he said, " if it 
 were only in the right hands. Of all forms of Superstition 
 which exist, that concerning money is the most absurd. 
 It is looked upon as something sacred, something above 
 intellect, humanity, or religion. Yet it is an empty form 
 a means of transfer, being nothing in itself like the 
 red flame, which is no substance, only representing the 
 change of one substance into another. You never really 
 possess it until you spend it. What is it to knowledge, to 
 the results of experience, or the insight of genius? But 
 you come to me for advice or information which cannot be 
 bought in the market, the value of which gold cannot 
 represent ; I give it and you go your way. Then I borrow 
 a hundred dollars from your useless surplus ; you oblige me 
 to sign a note payable in so many days, and consider me 
 dishonored if I fail to meet it ! Why should I not take of 
 your matter as freely as you of my spirit ? Why should 
 this meanest of substances be elevated to such mysterious 
 reverence ? They only who turn it to the enrichment of 
 their lives who use it as a gardener does manure, for the 
 sake of the flowers have the abstract right to possess it 
 Jenkins has a million, but never buys a book or a picture, 
 does n't know the taste of Burgundy, and can't tell ' Yan- 
 kee Doodle' from '// mio tesoro' does that money belong 
 to him ? No, indeed, it is mine, ours, everybody's who 
 understands how to set it in motion and bring the joy and 
 the beauty of life bubbling up to the surface 1 "
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 829 
 
 ' Bravo ! " cried the others, evidently more than half in 
 dined to be of the same way of thinking. I did not sup- 
 pose that Bnindagee was entirely in earnest, but I was fas 
 cinated by the novelty of hih views, and unable, at the time, 
 to detect wherein they were unsound. 
 
 " Do you know, fellows," he continued, " that our lives 
 are far more in accordance with the pervading spirit of 
 Christianity than those of the men. who devote themselves 
 to earning and hoarding ? We are expressly commanded 
 to take no thought for the morrow. There is nowhere in 
 the Bible a commendation of economy, of practical talent, 
 even of industry in a secular sense. It was so understood 
 in the early ages of Christianity, and the devotees who 
 adopted lazy contemplation as a profession never starved to 
 death. Perhaps they lived better than the contemporary- 
 men of business. I don't mean that their ways would suit 
 us, but then they lived out their own idea, and that 's all we 
 can do. Work, and the worry that comes with it, are relics 
 of paganism. The stupid masses always were, and will be, 
 pagans, and it was meant that they should labor in order to 
 give leisure to what little intelligence there is in the world. 
 If they are stiff-necked and rebellious, I hold that there is 
 no particular harm in using our superior cunning to obtain 
 what justly belongs to us. Suppose they make an outcry ? 
 Of course they look at the subject from their, which is the 
 lower, the pagan point of view. Pagans, you are aware, 
 have no rights which elected Christians are bound to re- 
 spect" 
 
 Brandagee had trenched, before he was aware of it, on 
 the favorite hobby of Smithers. The latter began to pufl 
 furiously at his meerschaum, now and then snorting the 
 smoke from his nostrils in long blue lines. 
 
 " It 's a bit of adroit sophistry ! " he exclaimed. " These 
 pagans, as you call them, with their strong bones, their 
 knotted muscles, their thick cerebellums and their cast-iroE 
 stomachs, are the very men who understand how to use life
 
 330 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 They could soon crush out your scanty breed of forced and 
 over-refined Epicureans, if they cared to do it: you should 
 be glad that they suffer you to exist What you call work 
 is only the sportive overplus of their colossal energy. If 
 they did not keep alive the blood of the race, which you 
 are trying all the while to exhaust, there would soon be, 
 not only an end of Art and Literature, but an end of Man 
 on this planet ! " 
 
 " Smithers," said Brandagee, coolly, " if you would take 
 a little more of the blood that circulates in your big body 
 and send it in the direction of your brains, you would see 
 that you have not come within a mile of meeting my asser- 
 tion. I take you as my living verification. You like work 
 no better than the rest of us, and you mix with your steve- 
 dores and sailors and 'longshoremen only to exploit them 
 in your ' Edda.' I have often seen you, sitting on a pier- 
 head with your pipe in your mouth, but I don't believe that 
 ' the sportive overplus of your colossal energy ' ever incited 
 you to handle a single bale or barrel. I don't object to 
 your hobby : it 's a good one to ride, so far as the public is 
 concerned, but we, here in the Cave, understand each other, 
 I take it" 
 
 Smithers began to grow red about the gills, and would 
 have resented the insinuation, but for the opportune arrival 
 of Miles, bearing a curiously-shaped vessel of some steam- 
 ing liquid and fresh glasses. The interest which these 
 objects excited absorbed the subject of debate. Mears 
 threw himself into a statuesque attitude and exclaimed in a 
 Delphic voice, " The offering is accepted ; " while Brauda- 
 gee chanted, 
 
 " Fill the cup and till the can, 
 Have a rouse before the morn," 
 
 and all shoved their glasses together under the nose of the 
 ladle. 
 
 " Here, Godfrey," said Brandagee, striking his glass 
 against mine, " welcome and acceptance from the mystic
 
 JOHX GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 331 
 
 brotherhood ! Here you have your money, as I was ex 
 plaining : it has taken form at Jast, instead of lying, as a 
 dry idea, in the pocket. I hold that we have the right to 
 seize on shadows wherever we find them, for the sake of 
 converting them into substance. Hence, if a man thinks 1 
 am taking away his shadow, in the Peter Schlemihl sense, 
 let him apply the law of similia similibits, and parting with 
 another shadow shall give him peace of mind. This you, 
 Jjmears, would call levying black-mail. But you artists 
 always take the gross, material view of things, it belongs 
 to you. The senses of Color and Form are not intellectual 
 qualities. Never mind, I mean no disparagement The 
 value of mind is that it teaches us how to make the right 
 use of matter ; so we all come back to the same starting- 
 point." 
 
 The conversation now became general and noisy, and I 
 will not undertake to report it further. In fact, I have but 
 an indistinct recollection of what followed, except that 
 some time after midnight we parted affectionately at the 
 corner of Spring Street and Broadway. The next morn- 
 ing I arose heavy in head, but light in purse, so much 
 lighter that I suspect the punch-bowl was filled more than 
 once in the course of the evening. 
 
 Various impediments prevented The Oracle from ap- 
 pearing before the close of the opera season, and the plan 
 was therefore suspended until the next fall. But the Cave 
 of Trophonius still existed, under the guardianship of the 
 Ichneumon, and I often seized an hour to enjoy .brget- 
 fulness of the present, in the lawless recklessness cf the 
 utterance to which it was dedicated.
 
 382 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 IM WHICH I TALK WITH TWO GIRLS AT A VERY SOCI* 
 BLE PARTY. 
 
 I HAVE said that I still felt but little inclination to min- 
 gle in society, although I might easily have found opportu- 
 nities. I fancy, however, that this reluctance was more 
 imaginary than real : it belonged to the soberer role which 
 I had chosen in the great drama. I could not quite justify 
 my participation in the gayeties of the season to that spirit 
 of stern indifference which I ought, logically, to have pre- 
 served. My nature, however, was not so profound as I 
 supposed, and when once I was led to forget myself in the 
 presence of others, I speedily developed a lively capacity 
 for enjoyment More than once I went slowly and moodily 
 to a scene, whence I returned with buoyant, dancing spirits. 
 Whenever I thought of Amanda Bratton, a feeling of con- 
 gratulation at my escape tempered the bitterness of the 
 memory, and I began to believe again (hardly admitting to 
 myself thai I did so) in the purity of woman and the honoi 
 of man. 
 
 The remembered expression of Miss Haworth's eyes 
 troubled me, and I longed for an opportunity of presenting 
 myself to her in a more correct light. It was some time 
 before such an opportunity occurred. I passed her once 
 on Broadway, on a sunny afternoon, and sometimes saw 
 her through the window of a carriage, but nearly three 
 months elapsed before I was able to speak to her again. 
 Mr. Deering, with whom I had made a slight acquaintance 
 during the dinner at Delmonico's, invited me to call " very
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 338 
 
 sociably" at his house in Fourteenth Street, on a certain 
 evening. I accepted, mainly because I expected to find 
 Pen rose there, and, as my duties required me to leave 
 early, made my appearance precisely at the appointed hour, 
 fn this respect I was misled by the words " very sociably," 
 for no other guests had yet arrived, and the rooms were 
 decorated as if for a ball. I experienced a foolish sensa- 
 tion for a moment, as I stood alone in the strong light of 
 gas and the glitter of gilding, but Mrs. Deering did not 
 leave me long in waiting. With her entered, to my sur- 
 prise. Miss Haworth. 
 
 Mrs. Deering was a frail-looking woman, with large dark 
 eyes, and pale, melancholy, interesting face. She received 
 me with perfect grace, and a kindly, winning air, which 
 seemed I knew not why to ask for sympathy. At any 
 rate, I gave it, and still I knew not why. In greeting Miss 
 Haworth I offered her my hand, forgetting that my slight 
 acquaintance hardly warranted me in assuming the signs 
 of familiarity ; but she took it with a natural, simple cour- 
 tesy, in which there was no trace of mere conventional 
 politeness. We seated ourselves at the bottom of the 
 apartment, and I had ample time to overcome the first for- 
 mal stages of conversation before the next arrival. The 
 hostess and Miss Haworth \ere evidently familiar, if not 
 intimate friends ; they called each other " Fanny " and 
 " Isabel," and frequently referred to mutual experiences 
 and mutual impressions. I saw that both were amiable, 
 cultivated, refined women. The point of difference seemed 
 to be in character in a certain gentle, reliant, hesitating 
 quality in Mrs. Deering, and its latent opposite in Miss 
 Haworth for I did not think the latter old enough for 
 marked development. Nevertheless, through all her maid- 
 enly sweetness and simplicity. I felt the existence of a firm, 
 heroic spirit. Her pure, liquid voice could under no cir- 
 cumstances become shrill or hard, but its music might ex- 
 press a changeless resolution. Some sense within me,
 
 334 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 underlying the surface of my talk, continually contrasted 
 her with Amanda Bratton. The consciousness of it an 
 noyed me, but I could not escape from the perverse spirit. 
 
 Finally, Mrs. Deering rose and advanced to receive the 
 coming guests, and we were left alone. My thoughts went 
 back to our conversation at the dinner, and I longed for the 
 tact to bring it up naturally. I introduced Matilda Shanks, 
 a subject soon exhausted ; then Penrose, and here a 
 happy thought came to my aid. I had become not only 
 unembarrassed, but frank, and, almost before I knew it, 
 had described the manner in which we had discovered oui 
 relationship. 
 
 " I had hardly liked him before that," I said. " I had 
 thought him haughty, cold, and almost incapable of affec- 
 tion but this was only the outside. He was truly happy 
 to find that we were kin, although I was at that time a raw 
 country-boy, far below him in everything. Since then, we 
 have learned to know each other tolerably well. He is so 
 handsome that I am very glad I can honestly esteem him." 
 
 I saw a light like a smile in Miss Haworth's eyes, but it 
 did not reach her lips. " He t* strikingly handsome," she 
 said, " but it is not a face that one can read easily." 
 
 " I think I like it all the better for that," I answered. 
 " It keeps up one's interest ; there are so many surprises, 
 as you discover new traits." 
 
 " If they were always agreeable surprises." 
 
 " I have found them so, in his case." 
 
 " You are fortunate, then," said she. Her tone was calru 
 and passionless, and I detected no reason for my suspicion 
 that she did not like Penrose. It almost seemed as if we 
 had changed characters, as if now the faith were on my 
 side and the . distrust on hers. I presently shook off this 
 impression as absurd, and attempted to introduce my ex- 
 planation before the new guests should interrupt us. 
 
 " I think my cousin frequently does injustice to himself," 
 I said. " He is fond of proclaiming a hard, unsympathetic
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 335 
 
 view of life, which does not correspond with his practice. 
 I was at one time in danger of imitating him, because every- 
 thing did not go according to my wishes. I can't quite 
 recall the words I used in my talk with you at the dinner," 
 (this was false I knew them every one,) " but I am sure 
 they did not express my true sentiments. I had rather be 
 thought inconsistent than cynical." 
 
 " So would I ! " she exclaimed, with a merry laugh. 
 " Consistency is a jewel, you know, but the color of it don't 
 happen to suit my complexion. I am heterodox enough to 
 dislike the word ; to me it signifies something excessively 
 stiff, prim, and tiresome." 
 
 I was relieved, but a little surprised, at such an unex- 
 pected latitude of opinion in Miss Haworth. 
 
 " It dates from my school-days in Troy," she continued, 
 by way of explanation. " Our teacher in Moral Philosophy 
 had a habit of saying, ' Be consistent, girls ! ' on every 
 possible occasion. We all decided that if she was an ex- 
 ample of it, consistency was a disagreeable quality, and I 
 am afraid that we tried to get rid of what little we had, 
 instead of cultivating it I like a character upon which 
 one can depend, but we may honestly change our views." 
 
 " Then," said I, " there are also such differences in our 
 moods of feeling. We change like the scenery of land or 
 sea, through green, gray, blue and gold, according to the sun 
 and the clouds. You are right; the same tints forever 
 would be very tiresome ; but we should not half possess 
 our opinions, if we were always conscious that we might 
 soon change them for others." 
 
 " I wish Mrs. Deering had heard you say that. We were 
 looking at a new dress of hers just before you came. There 
 was a mixture of colors in it, which, I knew, had only 
 caught her eye by its novelty, and the effect would soon 
 wear off. But when I said so, she put her hand on my 
 mouth, and pleaded, ' Please don't say a word against it ; 
 let me like it as long as I can.' I laughed and called hei 
 a child, as she is in her frankness and gentleness."
 
 386 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 ' She is a very lovely woman," I said, " but there is some 
 thing about her which seems to call for help or sympathy 
 I do not understand it." 
 
 " Is it so palpable ? " asked Miss Haworth, in a low voice, 
 as if speaking to herself. The approach of other guests 
 interrupted our conversation, and I had no chance of re- 
 suming it during the evening, although we frequently crossed 
 each other's paths, and exchanged a few words. The " very 
 sociable " entertainment was something more than a recep- 
 tion and something less than a ball. Most of the guests 
 came in full dress, and I was very glad that I had profited 
 by a hint which Brandagee had once let fall. " In New 
 York," said he, ''it is always safer to over-dress than to 
 under-dress. The former is looked upon as a compliment 
 to the hosts, and no excuse is ever accepted for the latter." 
 The young ladies were all decollete es, and their bright heads 
 rose out of wonderful folds and cloudy convolutions of white 
 mist, which followed with soft rustling noises the gliding 
 swing of their forms. I was leaning on the narrow end of 
 the grand piano, listlessly watching them as they moved 
 through the figures of a quadrille, when Mrs. Deering sud- 
 denly addressed me with, 
 
 " Don't you dance, Mr. Godfrey ? " 
 
 " Sometimes," I answered ; " but I think I enjoy seeing 
 dancing even more. Somebody says, if one would stop his 
 ears and shut out the music, one would find the movements 
 of the dancers simply ridiculous. I can imagine that this 
 might be true of the gentlemen, but, certainly, not of the 
 ladies." 
 
 " Are we so much more graceful ? " she asked. 
 
 " No," said I, with plump sincerity ; " it is rather the ad- 
 vantage of dress, the difference between drapery, which 
 falls into flowing and undulating lines, and a close shell, 
 like that of a tortoise. Besides the shell is black, which 
 robs it of light and shade. Suppose the gentlemen wore 
 Roman togas, white, with a border of purple, or blue and
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 337 
 
 nlver, or crimson and gold, don't you think the effect 
 would be immensely improved ? " 
 
 " I must confess the idea never entered my head. You 
 must give me time to think about it, before I can answer. 
 It is something new to hear a gentleman speak for the 
 beauty of his sex ; we are generally allowed the monopoly 
 of that." 
 
 I felt embarrassed, and there was an unpleasant sense of 
 heat in my face, which increased as I encountered 3iiss 
 Haworth's laughing, expectant eyes. She' was standing near, 
 and must have heard the whole conversation. 
 
 " If I thought myself handsome," I said, at last, " I 
 should never lay myself open to such a charge ; but it gives 
 me pleasure to see beauty, Mrs. Deering, whether in woman 
 or man, and I do not understand why custom requires that 
 one sex should help it with all possible accessories and the 
 other disguise it." 
 
 " Oh, you men don't really need it," began Mrs. Deering. 
 " You have courage and energy and genius." Here she 
 stopped, turned pale, and after a little pause, added with a 
 gayety not altogether natural ; " Shall I find you a partner 
 for the next quadrille ? " 
 
 I assented, thinking of Miss Haworth, but Mr. Deering 
 came up at that moment and secured her. Mrs. Deering 
 laid her hand on my arm, and we began to thread the dis- 
 entangling groups as the music ceased. The elegant young 
 gentlemen were already dodging to and fro, and taking their 
 places in anticipation of the next dance : the blooming, 
 girlish faces were snatched away as we approached them 
 and Mrs. Deering, with a little laugh at our ill-fortune, 
 said, " I must pick out the best of the wall-flowers, after 
 all, ah ! here is one chance yet ! " 
 
 A moment after, I found myself face to face with Miss 
 Levi! 
 
 u Mr. Godfrey wishes for the pleasure," Mrs. Deering 
 began to say, by way of presentation and request.
 
 838 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 a Now, Mr. Godfrey ! " exclaimed Miss Levi, jumping up 
 and giving me a smart rap with her sandal-wood fan, " you 
 know you don't deserve it ! You would never have seen 
 me without Mrs. Deering's help, and if I accept you, it 's 
 for her sake only. He 's as false and heartless as he can 
 be, Mrs. Deering ! " 
 
 If my thought had been expressed in words, I am afraid 
 there would have been a profane verb before Miss Levi's 
 name. I was exasperated by the unexpected encounter, 
 and less than ever disposed to hear her flippant, affected 
 chatter, to which I had responded so often that I was power- 
 less to check it now. As we took our places on the floor, 
 and she spread the scarlet leaves of her fan over the 
 lower part of her face, her jet-black eyes and hair shining 
 at me above them, I thought of the poppy-flower, and the 
 dark, devilish spirit of the drug which feeds it. I tried to 
 shake off the baleful, narcotic influence which streamed 
 from her, and which seemed to increase in proportion as I 
 resisted it. By a singular chance, Mr. Deering and Miss 
 Haworth were our n's-a-t'is. I had scarcely noticed this, 
 when the preliminary chords of the quadrille were struck, 
 and the first figure commenced. 
 
 " Confess to me, now, Mr. Godfrey," said Miss Levi, when 
 our turn came to rest, " that you are as false in literature as 
 you are in love. You have not been at Mrs. Yorkton's for 
 ever so long." 
 
 " I am false to neither," I answered, desperately, " for I 
 believe in neither." 
 
 " Oh, I shall become afraid of you." I knew her eyes 
 were upon my face, but I steadily looked away. " You are 
 getting to be misanthropic, Byronic. Of course there 
 is a cause for it It is she who is false ; pardon my heartless 
 jesting ; I shall never do so again. But you never thought 
 it serious, did you ? I always believed in your truth as I do 
 in your genius." 
 
 The last sentences were uttered in a low. gentle, confi-
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 839 
 
 dential tone, and the fingers that lay upon my arm closed 
 tenderly around it. I could not help myself: I turned my 
 head and received the subdued, sympathetic light of the 
 large eyes. 
 
 " You are mistaken, Miss Levi," I said ; " there is no 
 she ' in the case, and there will not be." 
 
 " Never ? " It was only a whisper, but I despair of rep- 
 resenting its peculiar intonation. It set my pulses trem- 
 bling with a mixture of sensations, in which fear was pre- 
 dominant I dimly felt that I must somehow disguise my 
 true nature from this woman's view, or become her slave. 
 I must prevaricate, lie, anything to make her believe me 
 other than my actual self. 
 
 The commencement of the second figure relieved me 
 from the necessity of answering her question. When we 
 had walked through it, and I was standing beside her, she 
 turned to me and said, 
 
 " Well ? " 
 
 " Well ? " I echoed. 
 
 " You have: not answered my question." 
 
 I summoned all the powers of dissimulation I possessed, 
 looked her full in the face with an expression of innocence 
 and surprise, and answered, " What question ? " 
 
 Her dark brows drew together for an instant, and a rapid 
 glance hurled itself against my face, as if determined to 
 probe me. I bore it with preternatural composure, and, 
 finding she did not speak, repeated, " What question ? " 
 
 She turned away, unaware that something very like a 
 scowl expressed itself on her profile, and muttered, 
 
 " It is of no consequence, since you have forgotten it" 
 
 My success emboldened me to go a step further, and not 
 merely defend myself, but experiment a little in offensive 
 tactics. 
 
 " Oh, about being false to literature ? " I said. " You 
 probably thought I was pledged to it That is not so : 
 rhat I have done has been merely a diversion. Having
 
 340 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 attempted, of course it would not be pleasant to fail ; but 
 there is no great satisfaction in success. With your knowl- 
 edge of authors, Miss Levi, you must be aware that they 
 cannot be called either a happy or a fortunate class of 
 men ! " 
 
 Again she scrutinized my face, this time over her fan. 
 I was wonderfully calm and earnest : there is no hypocrisy 
 equal to that of a man naturally frank. 
 
 " I am afraid it is true," she answered, at last. " But 
 there are some exceptions, and, with your genius, you might 
 be one of them, Mr. Godfrey." 
 
 " If my ' genius,' as you are pleased to call it," I said, 
 " can give me a house like this, and large deposits in the 
 banks, I shall be very much obliged to it. I should much 
 rather have splendor than renown : would n't you ? " 
 
 Looking across the floor J met Miss Haworth's eyes, and 
 although she turned them away at once, I caught a glimpse 
 of the quiet, serious observance with which they had rested 
 upon me. I rejoiced that she could not have heard my 
 words. The game I had been playing suddenly became 
 distasteful. Miss Levi's answer showed that she had fallen 
 into the snare ; that her enthusiasm for literature and liter- 
 ary men was a shallow affectation, which I might easily 
 have developed further, but I took advantage of the move- 
 ments of the dance to change the subject. AVhen the 
 quadrille was finished, I conducted her to a seat, bowed, 
 and left her almost too precipitately for courtesy. 
 
 In the mean time Penrose had arrived. I had not seen 
 him for some weeks, and we were having a pleasant talk in 
 a corner of the room when Mrs. Deering, in her arbitrary 
 character of hostess, interrupted us, by claiming him for 
 presentation to some of her friends. 
 
 " The partnership is social as well as commercial, is it ? " 
 said he. " Then I must go, John." 
 
 An imp of mischief prompted me to say to Mrs. Deer- 
 ing, " Introduce him to Miss Levi. Dance with her, if you
 
 JOHN. GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 341 
 
 san, AJexander; I want to hear your impression of hei 
 beauty." 
 
 'Oh, ho!" he exclaimed, "is she the elected one? Bj 
 all means. I shall try to find her bewitching, for your 
 sake." 
 
 " Alexander ! " I cried. But the twain were already 
 moving away, Mrs. Deering looking back to me with a gay. 
 significant smile. I was provoked at myself, and at Pen- 
 rose. I had honestly wished, for my own satisfaction, to 
 subject Miss Levi to the test of his greater knowledge of 
 the world, his sharp, merciless dissection of character. Per- 
 haps I thought he could analyze the uncanny, mysterious 
 power which she possessed. But the interpretation he had 
 put upon my words spoiled the plan. And Mrs. Deering, 
 I feared, had accepted that interpretation only too readily. 
 Could she really believe that I was attracted towards Miss 
 Levi ? If so, and she mentioned the discovery to Miss 
 Haworth, what must the latter think of me ? She, too, had 
 noticed the intimate character of our conversation during 
 the dance ; yet she could not, must not be allowed to mis- 
 understand me so shockingly. I worried myself, I have no 
 doubt, a great deal more than was necessary. My surmises 
 involved no compliment to the good sense of the two ladies, 
 and the excitement they occasioned in my mind was incon- 
 sistent with the character I had determined to assume. 
 
 I looked around for Miss Haworth before leaving the 
 parlor. She was seated at the piano, playing one of 
 Strauss's airy waltzes, while the plain, weary-looking gov- 
 erness, who had been performing for the two previous 
 hours, was taking a rest and an ice on the sofa. Among 
 the couples which revolved past me were Penrose and Miss 
 Levi, and there was a bright expression of mischief in the 
 former's eye as it met mine. 
 
 I went down town to my midnight duties in the office of 
 the Wonder very much dissatisfied with myself. It seemed 
 that I had stupidly blundered during the whole evening,
 
 842 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 and had made my position worse than it was before in the 
 eyes of the only woman whom I was anxious to please. The 
 latter fact was now apparent to my consciousness, and when 
 I asked myself " Why ? " there was no difficulty in finding 
 reasons. She was handsome ; she resembled St. Agnes ; I 
 believed her to be a pure,, true, noble-hearted girl. 
 Then I asked myself again, " Anything more ? " 
 And as I stepped over the booming vaults, in which the 
 great iron presses of the Wonder revolved at the rate 
 of twenty thousand copies per hour, and mounted to the 
 stifling room where the reports on yellow transfer-paper 
 awaited me, I shook my head and made answer unto my- 
 self, "No; nothing morel"
 
 JOHTT GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 343 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIL 
 
 WHICH SHOWS THAT THERE WAS SOMETHING MOKE. 
 
 MY ill-humor extended over several days, and even 
 showed itself in my professional duties. I don't suppose 
 that the blustering March weather of New York was ever 
 so savagely and bitterly described as in some of my articles 
 at that time. I wrote a hideously ironical sonnet to Spring, 
 which some country editor maliciously copied, side by side 
 with Bryant's poem on " March," bidding his readers con- 
 trast the serene, cheerful philosophy expressed in the 
 lines, 
 
 " But in thy sternest frown abides 
 A look of kindly promise yet " 
 
 with " the spleenful growling of Mr. J. Godfrey," contempt- 
 uously adding, " whoever he may be." 
 
 This latter castigation, however, came back to me at a 
 time when I could laugh over it, and acknowledge that it 
 was deserved. It was not long before the fact recurred to 
 my mind that Custom required me to call upon Mrs. Deer- 
 ing, and, admitting that Custom sometimes makes very sen- 
 sible and convenient arrangements, I consoled myself with 
 the prospect of soon knowing how far Penrose had impli- 
 cated me. 
 
 Mrs. Deering received me with the same winning, mel- 
 ancholy grace, which, from the first, had inspired me with 
 a respectful interest We conversed for some time, and, 
 as she made no allusion to Miss Levi, I was obliged to in- 
 troduce the subject, " butt-end foremost" 
 
 " I saw that you presented Penrose to Miss Levi," I said
 
 344 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 " Of course you did n't believe his jesting, when I asked 
 you to do so ? " 
 
 " Oh, no," she answered, with a smile ; " I am accustomed 
 to that sort of badinage among gentlemen. There was 
 some joking about it afterwards between Mr. Fenrose and 
 Miss Haworth." 
 
 " Good heavens ! " I exclaimed, quite startled out of my 
 propriety ; " Miss Haworth, I hope, does not suppose it to 
 be true ? " 
 
 Mrs. Deering's eyes rested on my face a moment, with a 
 sweet, gentle interest. " I do not think she does," she 
 presently remarked : " it was Mr. Floyd, her step-brother, 
 who seemed to be most interested. He asked Mr. Penrose 
 to introduce him also to Miss Levi." 
 
 " It is too bad ! " I cried, in great vexation : " what shall 
 
 ' O 
 
 I do to contradict this ridiculous story ? " 
 
 " Pray give yourself no uneasiness, Mr. Godfrey. I will 
 contradict it for you, should I hear anything of it, but I 
 really imagine that it has already been forgotten." 
 
 I gave her grateful thanks and took my leave, somewhat 
 comforted, if not quieted in spirit. 
 
 A few days afterwards I received a little note from hei 
 inviting me to tea. I wrote a line of acceptance at once, and 
 gladly, surmising that she had something to tell me, feel- 
 ing quite sure, at least, that I should hear of Miss Haworth. 
 But I did not venture to anticipate the happiness which 
 awaited me. Miss Haworth, whether by accident or through 
 Mrs. Deering's design, was present. There were also two 
 or three other guests, who, as they have no concern with 
 the story of my life, need not be particularized. Before we 
 were summoned to the tea-table, Mrs. Deering found an 
 opportunity to whisper to me, 
 
 " Make yourself quite easy, Mr. Godfrey. It was all 
 taken as a jest." 
 
 I knew that she referred to Miss Haworth, and felt that 
 any reference to the subject, on my part, would be unneo
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 34i 
 
 essary. I was at once reconciled to the vexation which had 
 procured me another interview with her, and in the genial, 
 unconstrained atmosphere of the small company, became 
 my own frank, light-hearted self, as Nature designed me to 
 be Our acquaintance ripened apace : we conversed, dur- 
 ing the evening, on books and music, and men and their 
 ways, developing, not always accordant views, but an in- 
 creasing freedom in the utterance of them. I was still too 
 ignorant of the change that was going on in my feelings to 
 be timid or embarrassed in her presence, and my eyes con- 
 stantly sought hers, partly because I was absorbed in the 
 beauty of their dark-violet hue, and partly because they 
 never shunned my gaze, but met it with the innocent direct- 
 ness of a nature that had nothing to conceal. Naturalists 
 say that an object steadily looked at in a strong light, pro- 
 duces an impression upon the retina which remains and re- 
 produces the image for hours afterwards. I am sure this 
 is true ; for those eyes, that rippled golden hair, that full, 
 sweet mouth and round, half-dimpled chin, haunted my 
 vision from that time forth. When I close my eyes, I can 
 still see them. 
 
 My enjoyment of the evening would have been perfect 
 but for the appearance of Mr. Tracy Floyd, who dropped 
 in at a late hour to escort his step-sister home. We were 
 sitting together, a little apart from the rest of the company, 
 when he entered, and I could see that his face assumed no 
 very friendly expression as he noticed the fact After greet- 
 ing the hostess and the other guests, he turned towards us. 
 
 " Bell, I have come for you," he said. " Ah, Mr. God- 
 frey, how do you do ? Are you to be congratulated ? " 
 
 " No ! " I exclaimed, with a quick sense of anger, the 
 expression of which I could not entirely suppress. 
 
 " Very complimentary to you, Bell ! Rather a decided 
 expression of distaste for your society." 
 
 " That was not what you meant," I said, looking him 
 steadily in the eye.
 
 346 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 He avoided my gaze, laughed, and said he was sorry I 
 did n't seem to understand a joke. There was a heightened 
 color in Miss Haworth's face, as she replied to a previous 
 remark of mine, but in no other way did she notice what 
 had passed between her step-brother and myself. Pres- 
 ently she rose to accompany him, giving me her hand 
 frankly and kindly as she said good-night. I took leave 
 of Mrs. Deering very soon after her departure. 
 
 I postponed all reflection all examination of the con- 
 fused, shining sensations which filled my heart until my 
 work was done, and I could stretch myself in the freedom 
 and freshness of my bed. There was too much agitation 
 in my blood for sleep. At first I left the gas-burner alight, 
 that I might see, from my pillow, the picture of St. Agnes 
 
 but presently arose and turned out the flame. The colon 
 the life, and spirit of the face in my memory made the en- 
 graving tame. I admitted to myself the joy of Isabel Ha- 
 worth's presence, with a thrill of ecstasy, which betrayed to 
 me at once towards what shore this new current was set- 
 ting. At first, it is true, there was an intrusive conscious- 
 ness, not precisely of inconstancy, but of something very 
 like it of shallow-heartedness, in so soon recovering from 
 a hurt which I had considered mortal ; but it was speedily 
 lost in the knowledge, which now came to me, of the growth 
 of my nature since the days of that boyish delusion. I sud- 
 denly became aware of the difference between sentiment 
 and passion. My first attachment was shy, timid, dreamy, 
 
 shrinking away from the positive aspects of life. It 
 flattered my vanity, because I looked upon it as an evidence 
 of manhood, but it had not directly braced a single fibre of 
 my heart. This, on the contrary, filled me, through and 
 through, with a sharp tingle of power : it dared to contem 
 plate every form of its realization ; were its blessing but 
 assured, I should proudly proclaim it to the world. Its 
 existence once recognized, I took it swiftly into every cham- 
 ber of mv being : my kindled imagination ran far in ad
 
 JOHX GODFREY'S FORTU^S. 347 
 
 ranee of the primitive stage of my experience, and before 
 I fell asleep I had almost persuaded myself that the fortune 
 of my life was secured. 
 
 I have said but little of Miss Haworth, because, up to 
 this time, I had seen so little of her. My love was half 
 instinct, the suspicion of a noble and steadfast character 
 which was yet unproved. She did not seem to be consid- 
 ered, in society, a marked beauty ; she rather evaded than 
 courted observation, but I felt that she was one of those 
 women whom one would like to meet more frequently in 
 what is called " fashionable " society, of faultless social 
 culture, yet as true and unspoiled as the simplest country 
 maiden. It was no shame to love her without the hope of 
 return. Indeed, I admitted to my own heart that I had no 
 right to any such hope. What could she find in me ? 
 she, to whom the world was open, who doubtless knew so 
 many men more gifted in every way than myself! Never- 
 theless, I should not tamely relinquish my claim. I might 
 have to wait for a long time, to overcome obstacles which 
 would task my whole strength, but she was too glorious a 
 prize to sit down and sigh for while another carried her off. 
 
 All this occurred in the first thrill of my discovery. I 
 could not always feel so courageous ; the usual fluctuations 
 of passion came to cheer or depress me. I could only de- 
 pend on seeing her, through accidental opportunities, and 
 my employment prevented me from seeking to increase 
 them. Often, indeed, I hurried through my afternoon du- 
 ties in order to prolong my walk up Broadway, in the hope 
 of meeting her, but this fortune happened to me but twice. 
 One evening, however, at Wallack's, a little incident oc- 
 curred which kept me in a glow for weeks afterwards. Mi. 
 Severn had given me two of the complimentary tickets sent 
 to the Wonder office, and I took Swansford with me, de- 
 lighted with the chance of sharing my recreation with him, 
 We selected seats in the parquet, not too near the brass in- 
 struments ; his ear suffered enough, as it was, from the lit
 
 348 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 tie slips and false notes which were inaudible to me. Look 
 ing around the boxes at the end of the first act, my heart 
 gave a bound on seeing Miss Haworth, in company with 
 an unknown lady and gentleman. She wore a pale lilac 
 dress, with white flowers in her hair, and looked unusually 
 lovely. They were conversing cheerfully together, and 1 
 could study the perfect self-possession of her attitude, the 
 grace of her slightest movements, without being observed. 
 
 Having made this discovery, I had thenceforth but half 
 an eye for the play. My seat, fortunately, was nearly on a 
 line with the box in which she sat, and I could steal a glance 
 by very slightly turning my head. Towards the close of 
 the second act, an interesting situation on the stage ab 
 sorbed the attention of the audience, and feeling myself 
 secure, I gazed, and lost myself in gazing. The intensit) 
 of my look seemed to draw her palpably to meet it. She 
 slowly turned her head, and her eyes fell full upon mine. 
 I felt a sweet, wonderful heart-shock, as if our souls had 
 touched and recognized each other. What my eyes said to 
 her I could not guess, nor what hers said to me. My 
 lids fell, and I sat a moment without breathing. When I 
 looked up, her face was turned again towards the stage, but 
 a soft flush, " which was not so before," lingered along her 
 cheek and throat 
 
 I might have visited the box during the entr'acte, but 
 my thoughts had not yet subsided into a sufficiently practi- 
 cal channel. The play closed with the third act, and at its 
 close the party left. Once more our glances met, and I had 
 sufficient courage to bow my recognition, which she re- 
 turned. I had no mind, however, to wait through the farce, 
 and hurried off Swansford, who was evidently surprised at 
 my impatient, excited manner, following so close on a fit 
 of (for me) very unusual taciturnity. I answered his com- 
 ments on the play in such a manner that he exclaimed, as 
 we reached the street, 
 
 " What is the matter with you, Godfrey ? You don't 
 eem to have your senses about you to-night."
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 349 
 
 I laughed. " I am either the blindest of bats, the stu- 
 pidest of owls," I said, " or my senses are miraculously 
 sharpened. I have seen either all, or nothing, but no, 
 it must, it shall be all ! " 
 
 J caught hold of Swansford's arm and hurried him along 
 with me. As we passed a corner lamp-post, he looked at 
 my face in the light with a puzzled, suspicious expression, 
 which moved me to renewed mirth. He was as far as pos- 
 sible from guessing what was the matter with me. 
 
 " Here is Bleecker Street," said I. " Come up to my 
 room, old fellow, and you shall judge whether I am a fooi 
 or not" 
 
 He complied mechanically, and we were presently seated 
 in opposite arm-chairs, before the smouldering grate. I 
 gave him a glass of Sherry, a bottle of which I kept on 
 purpose for his visits, and when I saw that he looked re- 
 freshed and comfortable, began my story in an abrupt, in 
 direct way. 
 
 " Swansford," I asked, " can a man love twice ? " 
 
 " I do not know," he answered sadly, after a pause, " / 
 could not" But he lifted his face towards me with a quick, 
 lively interest which anticipated my confession. 
 
 I began at the beginning, and gave him every detail of 
 my acquaintance with Miss Haworth, the dinner at Del- 
 mouico's, the glimpses in the street, the " very sociable " 
 party at Mr. Deering's, the invitation to tea, and finally the 
 meeting of our eyes that very evening. There was no shy- 
 ness in my heart, although I knew that the future might 
 never give form to its desires. 
 
 " That is all," I concluded, " and I do not know what you 
 may think of it Whether or not I am fickle, easily im- 
 pressed, or deceived in my own nature, in all other re 
 spects, I know that I love this girl with every power of my 
 soul and every pulse of my body ! " 
 
 I had spoken with my eyes fixed on the crimson gulfs 
 among the falling coals, and without pausing long e:iougb
 
 350 JOHN GODFREY'S FOBTUNES. 
 
 for interruption. There was so little to tell that I mu>< 
 give it all together. Swansford did not immediately an 
 swer, and I looked towards him. He was leaning forward, 
 with his elbows on the arms of the chair and his face bur 
 led iu his hands. His hair seemed damp, and drops ol 
 perspiration were starting on his pale forehead. A mad 
 fear darted through my mind, and I cried out, 
 
 '' Swansford ! Do you know Miss Haworth ? " 
 
 " No," he replied, in a faint, hollow voice, " I never 
 heard her name before." 
 
 His fingers gradually crooked themselves until the ten- 
 dons of his wrists stood out like cords. Then, straighten- 
 ing his back firmly in the chair, he seized the knobs on the 
 ends of the arms and appeared to be bracing himself to 
 speak. 
 
 " I have no business with love," he began, slowly ; 
 " you should not come to me for judgment, Godfrey. I 
 know nothing about any other heart than my own ; it would 
 be better if I knew less of that You are younger than 
 me ; there is thicker blood in your veins. Some, I suppose, 
 are meant to be happy, and God grant that you may be one 
 of them ! I am not surprised, only " 
 
 He smiled feebly and stretched out his hand, which I 
 pressed in both mine with a feeling of infinite pity. 
 
 " Give me another glass of Sherry," he said, presently. 
 tt I am weaker than I used to be. I think one genuine, 
 positive success would make me a strong man ; but it 's 
 weary waiting so long, and the prospect no brighter from 
 one year's end to another. Is it not inexplicable that I 
 who was willing to sacrifice to Art the dearest part of my 
 destiny as a Man, should be robbed of both, as my reward ? 
 If I had my life to begin over again, I would try selfish as 
 sertion and demand, instead of patient self-abnegation, 
 but it is now too late to change." 
 
 These expressions drew from me a confession of the 
 same stages of protest through which I had passed, or
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 351 
 
 rather, was still passing, for the rebellious thoughts 
 slumbered in my heart We exchanged confidences, ar.d 1 
 saw that while Swansford admitted to himself the force of 
 the selfish plea, he still considered it with reference to his 
 art. If some master of psychology had said to him, " Sin, 
 and the result will be a symphony ! " I believe he would 
 have deliberately sinned. If Mendelssohn had murdered 
 the basso, for his slovenly singing in " Elijah," he would 
 none the less have revered Mendelssohn as a saint J 
 did not know enough of music to judge of Swansford's 
 genius ; but 1 suspected, from his want of success, that his 
 mind was rather sympathetic than creative. If so, his was 
 the saddest of fates. I would not have added to its dark- 
 ness by uttering the least of doubts : rather I would have 
 sacrificed my own hopes of literary fame to have given 
 hope to him. 
 
 The days grew long and sunny, the trees budded in the 
 city squares, and the snowy magnolias blossomed in the 
 little front-gardens up town. Another summer was not far 
 off, and my mind naturally reverted to the catastrophes of 
 the past, even while enjoying the brightness of the present 
 season. No word from Pennsylvania had reached me in 
 the mean time, and I rather reproached myself, now, for 
 having dropped all correspondence with Reading or Up- 
 per Samaria. The firm of Woolley and Himpel, I had no 
 doubt, still flourished, with the aid of my money ; Rand 
 and his Amanda (I could not help wondering whether they 
 were happy) probably lived in the same city; Dan Yule 
 was married to the schoolmistress; and Verbena Cuff, I 
 hoped, had found a beau who was not afraid of courting. 
 How I laughed, not only at that, but at many other epi- 
 sodes of my life in Upper Samaria ! Then I took down 
 u Leonora's Dream, and Other Poems," for the first time 
 in nearly a year. This was the climax of my disgust My 
 first sensation was one of simple horror at its crudities ; my 
 second one of gratitude that 1 had grown sufficiently to 
 perceive them.
 
 352 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 I was now ambitious of culture rather than fame. I sa* 
 that, without the former, I could never rise above a subor- 
 dinate place in literature, possibly no higher than the 
 sphere represented by Mrs. Yorkton and her circle ; with 
 it, I might truly not attain a shining success, but I should 
 be guarded against failure, because I should know my 
 talents and not misapply them. The thirst for acquiring 
 overlaid, for a time, the desire for producing. After 
 Wordsworth I read Pope, and then went back to Chau 
 cer, intending to come down regularly through the royal 
 succession of English authors; but the character of my 
 necessary labors prevented me from adopting any fixed 
 plan of study, and, as usual, I deserved more credit foi 
 good intentions than for actual performance. 
 
 Only once more, in the course of the spring, did I secure 
 a brief Interview with Miss Haworth. During the Annual 
 Exhibition of the Academy of Design, I met her there, 
 one afternoon, in company with Mrs. Deering. It was a 
 gusty day, and the rooms were not crowded. We looked 
 at several of the principal pictures together, and I should 
 have prolonged the sweet occupation through the remain- 
 ing hours of daylight, had not the ladies been obliged to 
 leave. 
 
 " Do you go anywhere this summer ? " Mrs. Deering 
 asked. 
 
 " No further than Coney Island," I said, with a smile at 
 the supposition implied by her remark ; " a trip of that 
 length, and an absence of six hours, is all the holiday I 
 can afford." 
 
 " Then we shall not see you again until next fall. Mr. 
 Deering has taken a cottage for us on the Sound, and Miss 
 Haworth, I believe, is going to the Rocky Mountains, 01 
 somewhere near them. Where is it, Isabel ? " 
 
 " Only to Minnesota and Lake Superior. I shall accom- 
 pany a friend who goes for her health, and we shall proba- 
 bly spend the whole summer in that region."
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S IOK1TXES. 353 
 
 * How I wish I could go ! " I exclaimed, impetuously 
 Then, recollecting myself, I added, " But you will tell me 
 all about Minne-ha-ha and the Pictured Rocks, will you 
 not ? May I call upon you after your return ? " 
 
 " I shall always be glad to see you, Mr. Godfrey." 
 
 I held her hand and looked in her eyes. It was only for 
 a moment, yet I found myself growing warm and giddy 
 with the insane desire of drawing her to my breast and 
 whispering, " I love you ! I love you ! " 
 
 When they left the exhibition-room, I followed, and lean- 
 ing over the railing, watched them descending the stairs. 
 At the bottom of the first flight Miss Haworth dropped her 
 parasol, turned before I could anticipate the movement, and 
 saw me. I caught a repeated, hesitating gesture of fare- 
 well, and she was gone. 
 
 Then began for me the monotonous life of summer in 
 the city, long days of blazing sunshine and fiery radia- 
 tions from pavements and brick walls, nights when the 
 air seemed to wither in its dead sultriness, until thunder 
 came up the coast and boomed over the roofs, when 
 theatres are shut, and fashionable clergymen are in Europe, 
 and oysters are out of season, and pen and brain work like 
 an ox prodded with the goad. Nevertheless, it was a toler- 
 ably happy summer to me. In spite of my natural impa- 
 tience, I felt that my acquaintance with Miss Haworth had 
 progressed as rapidly as was consistent with the prospect 
 of its fortunate development. If it was destined that she 
 should return my love, the first premonitions of its exist- 
 ence must have already reached her heart. She was too 
 clear-sighted to overlook the signs I had given. 
 
 There was one circumstance, however, which often dis- 
 turbed me. She was an heiress, worth hundreds of 
 thousands, Penrose had said, and I a poor young man, 
 earning, by steady labor, little more than was necessary for 
 my support. While I admitted, in my heart of hearts, the 
 insignificance of this consideration to the pure eyes of love, 
 23
 
 354 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 [ could not escape the conventional view of the case. Mj 
 position was a mercenary one, and no amount of sincerity 
 or fidelity could wash me clear of suspicion. Besides, it 
 reversed what seemed to me the truest and tenderest rela- 
 tion between man and woman. If I won her heart, I 
 should be dependent on her wealth, not she upon my 
 industry and energy. For her sake, I could not wish that 
 wealth less : she was probably accustomed to the habits 
 and tastes it made possible ; but it deprived me of the 
 least chance of proving how honest and unselfish was my 
 devotion. All appearances were against me, and if she 
 did not trust me sufficiently to believe my simple word, I 
 was lost. This was a trouble which I could not lighten by 
 imparting it to any one, not even Swansford. I carried 
 it about secretly with me, taking it out now and then to 
 perplex myself with the search of a solution which might 
 satisfy all parties, her, myself, and the world. 
 
 The summer passed away, and the cool September nights 
 brought relief to the city. One by one the languid inhab- 
 itants of brown-stone fronts came back with strength from 
 the hills, or a fresh, salty tang from the sea-shore. The 
 theatres were opened, oysters reappeared without chol- 
 era, and the business-streets below the Park were crowded 
 with Western and Southern merchants. The day drew 
 nigh when I should again see my beloved, and my heart 
 throbbed with a firmer and more hopeful pulsation.
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 866 
 
 CHAPTER XXVm. 
 
 WHICH GIVES AN ACCOUNT OF A FIRE AND WHAT FOL 
 LOWED IT. 
 
 DURING the summer of which I am writing, there was 
 an unusual demand for short, sketchy articles, moral in ten- 
 dency, but without the dulness of moral essays. They were 
 weak concoctions of flashy, superficial philosophy, generally 
 starting from the text of some trivial incident, and made 
 piquant with a delicate flavor of slang. The school exists 
 to this day, and may be found, in the hectic of its com- 
 mencing decline, in the columns of certain magazines and 
 literary newspapers. In the days of its youth, it possessed 
 an air of originality which deceived ninety-nine out of every 
 hundred readers, and thus became immensely popular. The 
 demand, increased by the emulation of rival publishers, and 
 accompanied by fabulous remuneration (if the advertisements 
 were true), soon created a corresponding supply, and the 
 number of Montaignes and Montaignesses who arose among 
 us will be a marvel to the literary historian of the next 
 century. 
 
 My practice in what the foreman of the Wonder com- 
 posing-room called "fancy city articles," enabled me to 
 profit at once by this new whirl in the literary current My 
 sketches, entitled " The Omnibus Horse," " Any Thing on 
 This Board for Four Cents," and " Don't Jump ! " (the latter 
 suggested by the Jersey City Ferry,) had already been ex- 
 tensively copied, and when Mr. G. Jenks, rising presently 
 to his feet after the failure of " The Hesperian," as publisher 
 of The Ship of the Line, an illustrated weekly, in which the
 
 356 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 same head did duty as Gen. Cass, Pius IX., and the inventor 
 of the Air-Tight Stove, when Mr. Jenks, I say, occupied 
 another back-office, and badgered new aspirants for publicity 
 with, " What 's the handle to your Brown ? or Jones ? " 
 he summoned me to his presence and graciously offered me 
 five dollars for a weekly sketch of the popular kind, not to 
 exceed half a column in length. 
 
 " Not too moral," he added, by way of caution, " though 
 they must lean that way. If you can make 'em a little racy; 
 you understand, but not so that it can be taken hold 
 of, they '11 go all the better. There 's that book, Pepper 
 Pot,' for instance, sold a hundred and fifty thousand copies 
 in six months, puffed in all the religious papers, would 
 have been a fortune to me." 
 
 I naturally rebelled against this sort of dictation, but 
 having encountered it wherever I turned, I supposed that 
 it was a universal habit of publishers, and must of necessity 
 be endured. The articles required could be easily enough 
 produced, and the fee, small as it was, might accumulate to 
 a respectable little sum if laid aside, week by week, with 
 whatever else I could spare. I therefore accepted the offer, 
 and was laughed at by Brandagee for not having asked 
 twenty dollars. 
 
 " If you want to be valued," said he, " you must be your 
 own appraiser. Taking what 's offered is admitting that 
 you 're only worth so much. There was Fleurot, I knew 
 him when he had but one shirt, and washed it with his own 
 hands every night, but he would n't take a centime less than 
 five thousand francs for the picture on his easel, and got it, 
 sir! got it, after waiting eighteen months. Then he 
 doubled his price and played the same game. Now, if you 
 want anything from his brush, you must order it six years 
 in advance." 
 
 There was a large kernel of truth in Brandagee's words, 
 as I afterwards had occasion to discover. He had been ab- 
 sent during the summer, as the Avenger's correspondent at
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 357 
 
 the wat.ering-places, claiming his rights as " dead-head M ou 
 railways and in hotels, and now returned more audacious 
 and imperious than ever. During his absence, the Cave of 
 Trophonius had been, for the most part, deserted. Miles 
 confessed that he had been obliged to accommodate " other 
 parties " with the use of its oracular walls, but he promised 
 that " you literary gents shall 'ave it agin, 'avin' a sort o 1 
 fust claim." 
 
 These things, however, belong to the unimportant inci- 
 dents of my life. An event occurred as I find by a ref- 
 erence to the files of the Daily Wonder for the year 185- 
 on the night of the 27th of September, which was of 
 vital consequence to my subsequent fortunes. 
 
 One of the assistant reporters was sick, and in case any- 
 thing of interest should transpire, it was expected that I 
 should perform his duty. I had been unusually busy through 
 the day, and at eleven o'clock at night had just corrected 
 and sent into the composing-room my last " copy " for the 
 morning's paper, when the bell on the City Hall began to 
 boom the announcement of a fire. I forced open my heavy 
 eyelids, gave up, with a sigh, the near prospect of sleep 
 and rest, seized my pencil and note-book, and hurried off 
 in the direction indicated by the strokes. 
 
 It was a damp, misty night, I remember, and as I reached 
 the elevation of Broadway at Leonard Street, I could 
 distinguish a dull glimmer over the tops of the tall houses 
 on the western side. I could hear the sharp, quick rattle 
 of a fire-engine dashing up Church Street, while others, 
 coming from the eastern part of the city, shot through the 
 Canal Street crossing. The fire was somewhere in the Tenth 
 \Vard, it seemed, a trifling affair, not worth keeping me 
 from my bed, I thought, but for the certainty of the Aven- 
 ger's reporter being on hand, eager to distance the Wonder 
 in the morning, and then proclaim the fact, next day, as 
 a triumph of " newspaper enterprise." 
 
 A few minutes more brought me to the scene. It was b
 
 858 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 Greeii Street, near Broome. The flames were alreadj 
 bursting out of the windows of a tall brick house ; three 
 or four streams from as many engines were sparkling and 
 hissing in the red light, having as yet made no headway 
 against the conflagration ; and a line of policemen, on either 
 side, kept back the increasing mass of spectators. There 
 were shouts of command, cries, exclamations ; alarm and 
 excitement in the opposite and adjoining houses, and a wet, 
 sooty, dirty chaos of people, furniture, beams, and bricks, 
 pouring out from below, or hurled down from above the 
 fiery confusion. I was accustomed to such scenes and 
 thought only of following my professional instinct, ascer- 
 taining the name of the owner of the property, its value, 
 and the amount of insurance upon it. 
 
 A word to a captain of police, and the exhibition of my 
 pencil and note-book, procured me admission into the space 
 cleared for the engines and hose-carriages in front of the 
 fire. Here I was alternately sprinkled by upward spirts 
 from pin-holes in the snaky hose, and scorched by downward 
 whiffs of air, but I had the entire scene under my eye and 
 could pick up my information from the tenants of the burn- 
 ing house, as soon as they had done saving their mattresses 
 and looking-glasses, the objects first rescued on such 
 occasions. 
 
 The second house on the left, just opposite my perch < n 
 the top of a shabby chest of drawers, was brilliantly ligl t- 
 ed. The shutters being thrown back and the windo./s 
 opened, I looked directly into a sumptuous double parl r, 
 which appeared to be the scene of an interrupted entr r- 
 tainment. The lid of the piano was lifted, and a table 'n 
 the centre was covered with glasses and bottles. At ea :h 
 window were grouped three or four girls, with bare wh ie 
 shoulders and arms, talking and laughing loudly with su -h 
 firemen as took a moment's breathing-spell on the sidewalk 
 under them. Glasses, I could see, were occasionally pasted 
 down to the latter.
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 353 
 
 " It 's a chance if Old Western is n't smoked out of hei 
 hole," remarked one policeman to another. 
 
 " Faith, she might be spared from this neighborhood," 
 the latter answered, laughing. "They are carrying the 
 hose up to her roof, now ! " 
 
 I looked up and saw the helmet and red shirt of a fire- 
 man behind the eaves. The street-door was entered with- 
 out ceremony, and I presently noticed a commotion among 
 the careless inmates. A policeman made his appearance 
 in the parlor ; the bottles were swiftly removed, and, at a 
 signal from a middle-aged woman, with a hawk's beak of a 
 nose, the girls disappeared. 
 
 All at once, a part of the roof of the burning building 
 fell in. A cloud of fiery dust arose, raining into the street 
 as it rolled across the inky sky. The heat became intense : 
 the men who worked the nearest engine were continually 
 drenched with water to prevent their clothes taking fire. 
 My position became untenable, without more risk than a 
 reporter is justified in running for the sake of an item of 
 twelve lines, and I hastily retreated across the street By 
 this time many other engines had arrived, and larger space 
 was required for their operations. I was literally driven to 
 the wall by the press of wheels and water-jets and the reck- 
 less earnestness of the firemen. 
 
 Perceiving a narrow, arched passage between the two 
 houses, an old-fashioned kitchen-entrance, I took ref- 
 uge in it. The conflagration lighted up the further end, 
 and showed me that a hose had been already laid there 
 and carried to the rear. I therefore determined to follow 
 it and ascertain what could be seen from the other side. 
 By the help of some stakes and the remains of a grape- 
 arbor, I climbed to the top of the board-fence which 
 inclosed the back-yard. The wind blew from the west, 
 ind thus, although I found myself quite near to the fire 
 I was not much incommoded by the heat. The brave fel- 
 lows on the roof of the nearest house moved about in dark
 
 360 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 relief against the flickering, surging background of dun 
 and scarlet light. I shuddered as I saw them walking 
 on the brink and peering down into the fatal gulf. A 
 strong reflected lustre was thrown upon the surrounding 
 houses from the low-hanging mist, and revealed every 
 object with wonderful distinctness. 
 
 There was a rear wing to the house designated by the 
 policeman as belonging to " Old Western," and I had taken 
 my stand near one corner of it, at the junction of the fences 
 with those of two back-yards belonging to the opposite 
 houses in Wooster Street. I had not been stationed thus 
 two minutes, before an agitated, entreating voice came 
 down to me, 
 
 " Oh, sir, good sir, please help me to get away ! " 
 
 I looked up. A window in the end of the rear wing was 
 open, and out of it leaned a girl, partly dressed, and with 
 her hair hanging about her ears, but with a shawl closely 
 drawn over her shoulders and breast. She was not more 
 than seventeen or eighteen. The expression of her face 
 was wild, frightened, eager, and I imagined that she was so 
 confused by fear as to have forgotten the ready means of 
 escape by the street-door. 
 
 " Please help me, quick quick ! " she repeated. 
 
 " The house is not on fire yet," I said ; " you can go out 
 through the front without danger." 
 
 " Oh, not that way, not that way ! " she exclaimed. 
 " It 's not the fire, it 's the house I 'in afraid of. Oh, save 
 me, sir, save me ! " 
 
 I had read, in the Police Gazette and other classical 
 papers which sometimes fell into my hands, of innocent 
 girls decoyed into dens of infamy, very much as I had 
 read of human sacrifices in Dahomey, without supposing 
 that any such case would be brought directly home to mj 
 own experience. This seemed to me to be an instance of 
 the kind, the girl, at least, desired to escape from the 
 house, and I could not doubt, one moment, the obligation 
 upon me to give her assistance.
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 361 
 
 * I will save you if I can," I said, " but it is impossible 
 for you to come down from that window. Can I get into 
 the house ? " 
 
 " There is no time," she panted, " you do not know the 
 way, she might come back. I will go down into the 
 yard, and you can help me over the fence. Wait, I 'in 
 coming ! " 
 
 With these words she disappeared from the window. I 
 shared her haste and anxiety, without comprehending it, 
 and set about devising a plan to get her over the inclosure. 
 The floor of the yard was paved, and, I judged, about ten 
 feet below me : I might barely reach her hand by stooping 
 down, but it would be very difficult to lift her to the top 
 without a stay for my own exertions. All at once I caught 
 an idea from the dilapidated arbor. It was an easy matter 
 to loosen one of the top-pieces, with its transverse lattice- 
 bars, and let it down in the corner. This furnished at the 
 same time a stay for me, and an assistance to her feet I 
 had barely placed it in the proper position before a lower 
 door opened, and she hurried breathlessly up the pavement 
 
 " Quick ! " she whispered ; " they are all over the house, 
 they may see us any minute ! " 
 
 I directed her how to climb. The lowest strip of lattice 
 broke away ; the second held, and it enabled her to reach 
 my hand. In two more seconds she stood, tottering, on the 
 narrow ledge beside me. 
 
 Now," I said. " we must get down on the other side." 
 
 " Here, here ! " she exclaimed, pointing into the gar- 
 den of one of the Wooster-Street houses, " we must get 
 out that way. Not in front, she would see me ! " 
 
 She was so terribly in earnest that I never thought of 
 disputing her will. I carefully drew up the rough ladder, 
 let it down on the other side, and helped her to descend 
 Then 1 followed. 
 
 There was not a moment to spare. I had scarcely 
 touched the earth, before a strong, stem woman's voice
 
 362 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 cried, " Jane ! Jane ! " from the room above us. The gin 
 shuddered and seized me by the arm. I bade her, with a 
 gesture, crouch in the corner, where she would be safely 
 hidden from view, and stole along the fence until I caught 
 sight of the window. Once the hawk's beak passed in pro- 
 file before it, and the same voice said, " Damn the girl ! 
 where is she ? " 
 
 A strong light shone into the room through a window on 
 the north side. There was a slamming of doors, a dragging 
 noise accompanied by shouts, and then a male voice, which 
 seemed very familiar to my ear, said, as if in reply to " Old 
 Western's " profane exclamation, 
 
 " What 's the matter, old woman ? Lost one of 'em ? " 
 
 In a moment, the hose being apparently adjusted, a stout, 
 square figure in a red shirt came to the window. I could 
 plainly see that the hair, also, was red, the face broad, the 
 neck thick, in short, that it was my young friend, Hugh 
 Maloney. 
 
 " She can't ha' jumped out here," he said. " You need 
 n't be worrited, you '11 find her down in front among 
 your other gals." 
 
 A minute or two of further waiting convinced me thai 
 there was no danger of the means of escape being detected. 
 The occupants of the Wooster-Street houses were all awake 
 and astir, and I must procure an exit for us through the 
 one to which the garden belonged. I spoke a word of en- 
 couragement to the girl, picked up the light bundle ot 
 clothes she had brought with her, and boldly approached 
 the rear of the house. This movement, of course, was ob- 
 served by the spectators at the bedroom windows, and, 
 after a little parley, a man came down with a candle and 
 admitted us into the back-kitchen. When he had carefully 
 refastened the bolts, darting a suspicious glance at myself 
 and my companion, he conducted us through to the front 
 door. A woman's face, framed in a nightcap, looked down 
 at us around the staircase-landing, and, just before the dooi
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 363 
 
 slammed behind us, I heard her call out, " DC n't let anj 
 more of those creatures pass ! " 
 
 I fancy the girl must have heard it too, for she turned to 
 me with a fresh appeal, " I 'm not safe yet, take me. 
 away, away out of danger ! " 
 
 I gave her my arm, to which she clung as if it were a 
 fluke of Hope's own anchor, and said, as we walked up the 
 streets, 
 
 " Where do you wish to go ? Have you no friends or 
 acquaintances in the city ? " 
 
 " Oh, none ! " she cried. " I don't know anybody but 
 but one I ought n't to have ever known ! I 'm from the 
 country ; I did n't go into that house of my own will, and 
 I could n't get out after I found what it was. I know what 
 you must think of me, sir, but I '11 tell you everything, and 
 maybe, then, you '11 believe that I 'm not quite so wicked as 
 I seem. Take me anywhere, I don't care if it 's a shanty, 
 so I can hide and be safe. Don't think that I meant your 
 own house ; you 've helped me, and I 'd die rather than put 
 disgrace on you. The Lord help me ! I may be doing 
 that now." 
 
 She covered her face with her hands and began to cry. 
 I felt that she spoke the simple truth, and my pity and 
 sympathy were all the more keen, because I had never be- 
 fore encountered this form of a ruined life. I was resolved 
 to help her, cost what it might As for disgrace, the very 
 fear she expressed showed her ignorance of the world. In 
 a great city, unfortunately, young men may brave more 
 than one aspect of disgrace with perfect impunity. 
 
 " Would you not like to go back to your friends in the 
 country ? " I asked, after a moment's reflection. 
 
 " I could n't," she moaned. " I think it would kill me 
 to meet any of them now. It was a sin to leave them the 
 way I did. If I could get shelter in some out-of-the-way 
 street where there 'd be no danger of her finding me, 
 no matter how poor and mean it was, I 'd work night and
 
 364 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 day to earn an honest living. I 'm handy with the needle, 
 it 's the trade I was learning when " 
 
 A plan had presented itself to my mind while she was 
 speaking. I think that vision of Hugh's head at the win- 
 dow suggested it. I would go with her to Mary Maloney 
 and beg the latter to give her shelter for a day or two, 
 until employment could be found. In Gooseberry Alley 
 she would be secure against discovery, and I believed that 
 Mary Maloney, even if she knew the girl's history, would 
 be willing to help her at my request. Nevertheless, I re- 
 flected, it was better, perhaps, not to put the widow to this 
 test. It would be enough to say that the girl was a stranger 
 who had come to the city, had been disappointed in obtain- 
 ing employment, and now found herself alone, friendless, 
 and without means. Then I remembered, also, that my 
 own stock of linen needed to be replenished, and I could 
 therefore supply her with occupation for the first week or 
 two. 
 
 I stated this plan in a few words, and it was gladly ac- 
 cepted. The girl overwhelmed me with her professions of 
 gratitude, of her desire to work faithfully and prove herself 
 deserving of help. She knew she could never recover her 
 good name, she said, but it should not be made worse. I, 
 who had saved her, must have evidence that I had not done 
 it in vain. 
 
 As we turned down Houston in the direction of Sullivan 
 Street, we met a party of four aristocratic youths, in the 
 first stage of elegant dissipation. The girl clung to my 
 arm so convulsively and seemed so alarmed that I crossed 
 with her to the opposite sidewalk. They stopped and ap- 
 parently scrutinized us closely. I walked forward, how- 
 ever, without turning my head until we reached the corner 
 of Sullivan Street. When I looked back, they had disap- 
 peared, there was only a single person, standing in the 
 shadow of the trees. 
 
 Gooseberry Alley was quiet, and the coolness of the
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 865 
 
 night had partly suppressed its noisome odors. I stopped 
 under the lamp at the corner, and, while I said, " This is 
 the place 1 spoke of, are you willing to try it ? " exam- 
 ined the girl's face for the first time. 
 
 She was rather short of stature, but of slight and grace- 
 ful build. Her face was pale, but the bloom of her lips 
 showed that her cheeks could no doubt match them with 
 a pretty tint of pink. Her eyes either of dark gray or 
 hazel were troubled, but something of their girlish ex- 
 pression of innocent ignorance remained. A simple, honest 
 loving heart, I was sure, still beat beneath the mask of 
 sadness and shame. It never occurred to me that I was 
 too young to be her protector, that the relation between 
 us would not only be very suspicious in the sight of the 
 world, but was in itself both delicate and difficult. Neither 
 did it occur to me that I might have dispensed with the 
 confession she had promised to 'make, sparing her its pain, 
 and allowing her to work out her redemption silently, with 
 the little help I was able to give. On the contrary, I im- 
 agined that this confession was necessary, that it was my 
 duty to hear, as hers to give it. 
 
 " I have not time to hear your story to-night," I said 
 " I will see you again soon. But you have not yet told me 
 your name." 
 
 " Jane Berry," she whispered. 
 
 " And mine is John Godfrey." 
 
 I knocked at the door of the tenement-house, and after 
 some delay, and the preliminary projection of Feeny's 
 sleepy head from the second-story window, was admitted by 
 Mary Maloney herself. She had sprung out of bed and 
 rushed down-stairs in a toilette improvised for the occasion 
 a ragged patch-work quilt held tightly to her spare body 
 and trailing on the floor behind her, under the impres- 
 sion that something must have happened to Hugh. In or- 
 der to allay her fears, I came within an ace of betraying 
 that I had seen the latter. I told her the fictitious storj
 
 366 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 (Heaven pardon me for it ! ) which I had composed, and 
 asked her assistance. The fragment of burning tallow in 
 her hand revealed enough of Jane Berry's pretty face and 
 tearful, imploring eyes, to touch the Irishwoman's heart. 
 
 " Indade, and it 's little I can do," she said, " but you 're 
 welcome to that little, Miss, even without Mr. Godfrey's 
 askin'. And to think that you met him in the street, too, 
 jist as I did ! It 's a mercy it was Mm, instid o' the other 
 young fellows that goes ragin' around o' nights." 
 
 I could imagine the pang which these words caused *j 
 the poor girl's heart, and therefore, saying that I had still 
 work to do, and they must both go to rest at once, hurried 
 away from the house. 
 
 My notes were incomplete, and I was obliged to return to 
 the scene of the fire, where I found smoke and ruin instead 
 of flames. Two or three engines were playing into the 
 smouldering hollows, sending up clouds of steam from the 
 hot bricks and burning timbers, and the torches of the fire- 
 men showed the piles of damaged furniture in the plashy 
 street Two houses had been destroyed, and the walls of 
 one having fallen, there was a gap like a broken tooth in 
 the even line of the block. 
 
 I soon learned that there had been an accident The 
 front wall, crashing down unexpectedly, had fallen upou i 
 fireman who was in the act of removing a ladder. They 
 had carried him to the nearest druggist's on Broadway, and 
 it was feared that his hurt was fatal. The men talked about 
 it calmly, as of an ordinary occurrence, but performed their 
 duties with a slow, mechanical air, which told of weariness 
 and sadness. 
 
 Of course, I was obliged to visit the druggist's, and ob- 
 tain the name and condition of the unfortunate man. The 
 business of a reporter precludes indulgence in sentiment 
 prohibits delicacy of feeling. If the victim of a tragedy is 
 able to give his name, age, and place of residence, he may 
 then die in peace. The family, drowned in tears and de-
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 367 
 
 spair, must nevertheless furnish the particulars of the mur 
 der or suicide. Public curiosity, represented by the agent 
 of the newspaper, claims its privilege, and will not abate 
 one item of the harrowing details. 
 
 The policeman, guarding the door from the rush of an 
 excited crowd, admitted me behind the blue and crimson 
 globes. The injured man, bedded on such cushions as the 
 shop afforded, lay upon the floor, surrounded by a group of 
 his fellow-firemen. His shirt had been cut off, and his 
 white, massive breast lay bare under the lamp. There was 
 no external sign of injury, but a professional eye could see 
 knobs and protrusions of flesh which did not correspond tc 
 the natural overlapping of the muscles. A surgeon, kneel- 
 ing beside his head, held one arm, with his finger on 
 the pulse, and wiped away with a sponge the bloody foam 
 which bubbled from his lips. 
 
 Presently the man opened his eyes, large, clear, sol- 
 emn eyes, full of mysterious, incomprehensible speech. 
 His lips moved feebly, and although no sound came from 
 them, I saw, and I think all the others saw, that the word 
 he would have uttered was, " Good-bye ! " 
 
 " He has but a minute more, poor fellow ! " whispered 
 the surgeon. 
 
 Then, as by a single impulse, each one of the rough group 
 of firemen took off his helmet, knelt upon the floor, and 
 reverently bowed his head in silence around the dying man. 
 I knelt beside them, awed and thrilled to the depths of my 
 soul by the scene. The fading lips partly curved in an in- 
 effable smile of peace ; the eyes did not close again, but 
 the life slowly died out of them ; a few convulsive move- 
 ments of the body, and the shattered breast became stone. 
 Then a hand gently pressed down the lids, and the kneel- 
 ing men arose. There was not a sob, nor a sound, but 
 every face was wet with tears unconsciously shed. They 
 lifted the body of their comrade and bore him tenderly 
 away.
 
 3fi8 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 It was nearly three o'clock in the morning before m\ 
 
 J o * 
 
 task was finished, and I could go home to bed with a good 
 conscience. I had passed the crisis of fatigue, and was pre- 
 ternaturally awake in every sense. The two incidents of 
 the night powerfully affected me ; dissimilar as they were, 
 either seemed to spring from something originally noble 
 and undefiled in the nature of Man. The homage of those 
 firemen to the sanctity of Death made them my brothers ; 
 the ruder and more repellant aspects of their lives drifted 
 away like smoke before this revelation of tenderness. To 
 Jane Berry, however, my relation assumed the pride and 
 importance of a protector, possibly of a saving agent. 
 The remembrance of what I had done in her case filled 
 me with perfect, serene happiness. I will not say that van- 
 ity, that selfishness (though Heaven knows how ! ) had 
 no part in my satisfaction ; many profound teachers and 
 exceedingly proper persons will tell us so ; nor do I much 
 care. I knew that I had done a good deed, and it was right 
 I should deem that the approving smile of Our Father ha* 
 lowed my sleep that night
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 369 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 DC WHICH PEN ROSE FLINGS DOWN THE GLOVE AND I P1CB 
 IT UP. 
 
 MART MALONEY called upon me the next morning, as I 
 had requested her to do. The girl, she said, had shared 
 her own hed, and had risen apparently refreshed and cheer- 
 ful. Hugh, who came home after midnight, had been in- 
 clined to oppose the acceptance of the new tenant, until she 
 explained to him the u rights of it," whereupon he had 
 acquiesced. She thought there would not be much diffi- 
 culty in procuring work, as the busy season for tailors and 
 sempstresses was coming on ; and, meantime, she herself 
 would attend to buying the linen and other materials for 
 my new shirts. 
 
 Having furnished the money for this purpose, and added 
 a small sum for the girl's support until she was able to 
 earn something, I considered that nothing more could be 
 done until my knowledge of her story gave me other means 
 of assisting her. I was naturally curious to learn more about 
 her, but my occupation during the days immediately suc- 
 ceeding the fire prevented my promised visit, and very 
 soon other events occurred to delay it still further. 
 
 Mrs. Deering returned from her summer residence on 
 the Sound during the first week of October, and I was not 
 long in discovering the fact and calling upon her. . She 
 had corresponded with Miss Haworth during the summer, 
 and gave, without my asking, an outline of the latter's 
 journey, adding that she was now on her way home. If 
 I had not already betrayed m elf to Miss Dealing's de 
 84
 
 870 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 tective eye, I must certainly have done it then. I felt and 
 expressed altogether too much happiness for a young gen- 
 tleman to manifest in regard to the return of a young lady 
 without some special cause. I was perfectly willing that 
 she should suspect my secret, so long as its disclosure was 
 reserved for the one who had the first right to hear it. 
 
 From that day my walks at leisure times extended be- 
 yond Fourteenth Street I watched the house in Gra- 
 mercy Park, until observed (detected, I fancied) by Mr. 
 Tracy Floyd, who tossed me an insolent half-recognition 
 as he passed. In a week, however, there was evidence of 
 Miss Haworth's arrival. I did not see her, but there was 
 no mistaking the character of the trunks which were un- 
 loaded from an express-wagon at the door. 
 
 I allowed two days to elapse before calling. It was a 
 compromise between prudence and impatience. The event 
 was of too much importance to hazard an unsatisfactory 
 issue. Not that I intended declaring my love, or con- 
 sciously permitting it to be expressed in my words and 
 actions ; but I felt that in thus meeting, after an absence 
 of some months, there would be something either to flatter 
 my hope or discourage it wholly. 
 
 I dressed myself and took my way across Union Square 
 and up Fourth Avenue, with considerable trepidation of 
 mind. I was aware that my visit was sanctioned by the 
 liberal conventionalism of the city, and, moreover, I had 
 her permission to make it, yet the consciousness of 
 the secret I carried troubled me. My heart throbbed 
 restlessly as when, three or four years before, I had car- 
 ried my poem of the " Unknown Bard " to the newspaper 
 office. But I never thought of turning back this time. 
 
 I was so fortunate as to find Miss Haworth at home and 
 Mr. Floyd out The latter, I suspect, had not credited me 
 with boldness enough for the deed, and had therefore taken 
 no precautions against guarding the beauty and the fortune 
 which he was determined to possess.
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 371 
 
 I looked around the sumptuous parlor while awaiting 
 Miss Haworth's appearance, and recognized in the pictures, 
 the bronzes, the elegant disposition of furniture and orna- 
 ments, the evidence of her taste. It was wealth, not coarse, 
 glaring, and obtrusive, but chastened and ennobled by cul- 
 ture. Thank God ! I whispered to myself, money is her 
 slave, not her deity. 
 
 The silken rustling on the stairs sent a thousand tremors 
 along my nerves, but I steadily faced the door by which 
 she would enter, and advanced to meet her as soon as I 
 saw the gray gleam of her dress. How bright and beau- 
 tiful she was ! not flashing and dazzling as one accus- 
 tomed to conquest, but with a soft, subdued lustre, folding 
 in happy warmth the heart that reverently approached her. 
 Her face had caught a bloom and her eye an added clear- 
 ness from the breezes of the Northwest ; I dared not 
 take to myself the least ray of her cheerful brightness. 
 But I did say for I could not help it that I was very 
 glad to see her again, and that I had often thought of her 
 during the long summer. 
 
 " You must have found it long, indeed," she said, " not 
 being allowed to escape from the city. I am afraid I have 
 hardly deserved my magnificent holiday, except by enjoy- 
 ing it. You. who could have described the shores of Lake 
 Superior and the cliffs and cataracts of the Upper Missis- 
 sippi, ought to have had the privilege of seeing them rather 
 than myself." 
 
 " No, no ! " I exclaimed. " The capacity to enjoy gives 
 you the very highest right And I am sure that you can 
 also describe. Do you remember your promise, when I had 
 the pleasure of meeting you in the Exhibition Rooms ? You 
 were to tell me about all you should see." 
 
 " Was it a promise ? Then I must try to deserve my 
 privilege in that way. But here is something better 
 than description, which I have brought back with me." 
 
 She took a portfolio from the table and drew out a numbei
 
 372 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 of photographic views. The inspection of these required 
 explanations on her part, and she was unconsciously led 
 to add her pictures to those of the sun. I saw how truly 
 she had appreciated and how clearly remembered the 
 scenes of her journey ; our conversation became frank, 
 familiar, and in the highest degree delightful to me. A 
 happy half-hour passed away, and I had entirely forgotten 
 the proprieties, to the observance of which I had mentally 
 bound myself, when the servant announced, 
 
 Mr. Penrose ! " 
 
 I started, and, from an impulse impossible to resist, 
 looked at Miss Haworth. I fancied that an expression 
 of surprise and annoyance passed over her face, but it 
 was so faint that I could not be certain. My conversation 
 with her concerning him, at Deering's " very sociable " 
 party, recurred to my mind, and I awaited his entrance 
 with a curious interest There was nothing in the manner 
 of her reception, however, to enlighten me. She was 
 quietly self-possessed, and as cordial as their previous 
 social intercourse required. 
 
 On the other hand, Penrose, I thought, was not quite at 
 ease. I had not seen him before, since his return from Sar- 
 atoga, and was prepared for the quick glance of surprise 
 with which he regarded me. The steady, penetrating ex- 
 pression of his eyes, as we shook hands, drew a little color 
 into my face ; he was so skilful in reading me that I feared 
 my secret was no longer safe. For this very reason I de- 
 termined to remain, and assume a more formal air, in the 
 hope of deceiving him. Besides, I was desirous to study, 
 if possible, the degree and character of his acquaintance 
 with Miss Haworth. 
 
 " Ah ! these are souvenirs of your trip, I suppose," he 
 said, glancing at the photographs as he rolled a heavy vel- 
 vet chair towards the table and took his seat. " I only 
 heard of your arrival this evening, from Mrs. Deering. and 
 hoped that 1 would be the first to compliment you on you
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 373 
 
 daring ; but Mr. Godfrey, I see, has deprived me of that 
 pleasure." 
 
 To my surprise, a light flush ran over Miss Haworth's 
 face, and she hesitated a moment, as if uncertain what reply 
 to make. It was but for a moment ; she picked up some 
 of the photographs and said, 
 
 " Have you ever seen these views of Lake Pepin ? " 
 
 " No," he answered, running over them like a pack of 
 cards ; " superb ! magnificent ! By Jove, I shall have to 
 make the trip myself. But I would rather see a photograph 
 of Lake George. What a pity we can't fix heroic deeds as 
 well as landscapes ! " 
 
 " Mr. Pen rose," Miss Haworth remarked, with an air of 
 quiet dignity, " I would rather, if you please, not hear any 
 further allusion to that." 
 
 " Pardon me, Miss Haworth," he said, bowing gravely ; 
 "I ought to have known that you are as modest as you are 
 courageous. I will be silent, of course, but you cannot for- 
 bid me the respect and admiration I shall always feel." 
 
 What did they mean ? Something of which I was igno- 
 rant had evidently taken place, and her disinclination to 
 hear it discussed prevented me from asking a question. My 
 .nterest in the conversation increased, although the pause 
 which ensued after Penrose's last words hinted to me that 
 the subject must be changed. I was trying to think of a 
 fresh topic, when he resumed, with his usual easy adroit- 
 ness, 
 
 " I don't suppose I ever did a really good deed in my 
 life, Miss Haworth, that is, with deliberate intention. 
 One does such things accidentally, sometimes." 
 
 " Don't believe him!" said I. " I!e likes to be thought 
 worse than he really is." 
 
 " If that is true, I should call it a perverted vanity," Miss 
 Haworth remarked. 
 
 " You are quite right," Penrose replied to her, " but it is 
 act true. I have no mind to be considered worse than J
 
 374 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 am, but to be considered better implies hypocrisy on mj 
 part I might compromise for my lack of active goodness, 
 as most people do, by liberal contributions to missions and 
 tract-societies, and rejoice in a saintly reputation. But 
 where would be the use ? It would only be playing a more 
 tiresome role in the great comedy. Because I am not the 
 virtuous hero, I need not necessarily be the insidious villain 
 of the plot. The walking gentleman suits me better. I 
 know all the other characters, but they are my ' kyind 
 friends,' I treat them with equal politeness, avoid their 
 fuss and excitement, and reach the denouement without 
 tearing my hair or deranging my dress." 
 
 He spoke in a gay, rattling tone, as if not expecting that 
 his assertions would be believed. Miss Haworth smiled at 
 the part he assumed, but said nothing. 
 
 " What will you do when the play is over ? " I asked. 
 
 " Come, Godfrey, don't bring me to bay. Everything on 
 this planet repeats itself once in twenty-eight thousand years. 
 In the mean time, I may go on a starring tour (pardon the 
 pun, Miss Haworth, it is n't my habit) through the other 
 parts of the universe. Why should one be brought up with 
 a serious round turn at every corner ? It should be the 
 object of one's life to escape the seriousness of Life." 
 
 " Death is the most serious aspect of Life," I said, " and 
 it is not well that we should turn our faces away from it" 
 
 I could not talk lightly on subjects of such earnest im- 
 port. Death and ruin had too recently touched my own 
 experience. I began to tell the story of the crushed fire- 
 man, and Penrose, though at first he looked bored, finally 
 succumbed to the impression of the death-scene. I found 
 myself strangely moved as I recounted the particulars, and 
 it required some effort to preserve the steadiness of my 
 voice. When I closed there were tears in Miss Haworth's 
 lovely eyes. Penrose drew a long breath and exclaimed, 
 " That was a grand exit." 
 
 Then his face darkened, and he became silent and moody
 
 JOHN 1 GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 875 
 
 I heard the street-door open, and suspecting that it was 
 Mr. Tracy Floyd, whom I had no desire to meet, rose to 
 lake leave. Penrose followed my example, saying, as ha 
 lightly touched Miss Haworth's hand, 
 
 " Do not misunderstand me if I have failed to respect 
 your delicacy of feeling. I assure you I meant to express 
 no empty, formal compliment.'' 
 
 " The case has been greatly magnified, I have no doubt," 
 she answered. " I simply obeyed a natural impulse, which, 
 I am sure, any other person would have felt, and it is not 
 agreeable to me to have a reputation for heroism on such 
 cheap terms." 
 
 I presume my face expressed my wonder at these words, 
 for she smiled with eyes still dewy from the tears I had 
 called forth a warm, liquid, speaking smile, which I an- 
 swered with a tender pressure of her hand. The next 
 moment, frightened at my own boldness, and tingling with 
 rosy thrills of passion, I turned to meet Mr. Floyd at the 
 door. 
 
 Penrose greeted him with a cool, off-hand air of superi- 
 ority, and I answered his amazed stare with the smallest 
 and stiffest fragment of a bow. We were in the street be- 
 fore he had time to recover. 
 
 We turned into and walked down Fourth Avenue side 
 by side. I made some remarks about the night and the 
 weather, to which Penrose did not reply. His head was 
 bent, and he appeared to be busy with his own thoughts. 
 Presently, however, he took hold of my arm with a fierce 
 grasp, and exclaimed, 
 
 " John, did you mention it to her ? And did she allow 
 you to speak of it ? " 
 
 " What do you mean . " I asked. " What was it ? You 
 and she were speaking in riddles. I know nothing more 
 than that she did sdmething which you admire, but which 
 she does not wish to have mentioned." 
 
 "And you really don't know ? That girl is a trump, John
 
 376 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 Godfrey. She saved a man's life at the risk of her own, a 
 fortnight ago." 
 
 " Is it possible ? " I exclaimed. " Where ? How ? " 
 "At Lake George. They were there on their return 
 from the Northwest The season was nearly over, you 
 know, and there were not many persons at the hotel, but I 
 had the story from Welford, our next-door neighbor in 
 Chambers Street, who was one of them. It seems that she 
 had gone off alone, strolling along the shore, and as the 
 day was clear and hot, had taken a seat somewhere under 
 a tree, near the water, beside a little point of rock. One 
 of the Irish waiters went into the lake for a bath, and 
 whether he got beyond his depth and could n't swim, or 
 whether the coldness of the water gave him the cramp, I 
 don't know, but the fact is he went down. Up he came 
 again, splashing and strangling ; she heard the noise, 
 sprang upon the rock, and saw the fellow as he went down 
 the second time. Another girl would have stood and 
 screeched, but she walked straight into the lake think 
 of it, by Jove ! until the water reached her chin. She 
 could see his body on the bottom, and perhaps he, too, saw 
 her white dress near him, for he stretched out his arm to- 
 wards her. She shut her eyes, plunged under and just caught 
 hmi by the tip of a finger. Good God, if she had lost her 
 balance ! His hand closed on hers with a death-grip. She. 
 drew him into shallower water, then, by main force, big 
 and heavy as he was, upon the sand, threw his clothes 
 over his body, and stuck her parasol into the ground to 
 keep the sun off his head. There was a scene at the hotel 
 when she walked in, drowned and dripping from head to 
 foot, and called the landlord to the rescue. The man was 
 saved, and I hear there was no end to his gratitude. The 
 other young ladies, Welford says, thought it very romantic 
 and predicted a marriage, until they found it was an Irish 
 waiter, when they turned up their noses and said, ' How 
 could she do such a thin<r ' ' "
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 377 
 
 Penrose closed his story with a profane exclamation 
 which I will not repeat. The noble, heroic girl ! I was 
 filled with pride and admiration it was honor but to love 
 her, it would be bliss unspeaka'ble to win her ! 
 
 " It was gloriously done ! " I cried. " There is nobody 
 like her." I quite forgot that I was betraying myself. 
 
 " John," said Penrose, " come into the square. You and 
 I must have an explanation. You love Isabel Haworth, 
 and so do I ! " 
 
 " Good God, Alexander ! Are you serious ? " 
 
 " Serious ? " he echoed, with a savage intensity which 
 silenced me. We entered the eastern gate of the oval en- 
 closure, which, at that hour, was almost deserted. Two or 
 three footsteps only crushed the broad gravel-paths. The 
 leaves were falling, at intervals, from the trees, and the 
 water gurgled out of the pipes in the middle of the basin. 
 I followed him to the central circle, where he stopped, 
 turned, and faced me. His eyes shone upon me with a 
 strong, lambent gleam, out of the shadows of the night. I 
 was chilled and bewildered by the unexpected disclosure 
 of our rivalry, and nerved myself to meet his coming words, 
 the purport of which I began to forebode. 
 
 " John Godfrey," he said at last, in a low voice, which, 
 by its forced steadiness, expressed the very agitation it 
 should have concealed, " John Godfrey, there is no use 
 in trying to disguise the truth from each other. You would 
 soon discover that I love Isabel Haworth, and I prefer tell- 
 ing you now. You and I have been friends, but if you are 
 as much in earnest as I take you to be, we are from this 
 time forth rivals, perhaps enemies." 
 
 He paused. I tried to reflect whether this hostile re- 
 lation for so his words presented it was indeed inev 
 itable. 
 
 " Towards another man," he continued, " I should not be 
 so frank. But I am ready to show you my hand, because I 
 have determined to win the game in spite of you. I have
 
 878 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 Cold you that I am intensely selfish, and what my nature 
 demands that it must have. You are in my way, and un- 
 less you prove yourself the stronger, I shall crush you down. 
 I don't know what claims you make to the possession of 
 this girl, but it is not necessary to measure claims. I 
 admit none except my own. When Matilda recommended 
 her to me as an eligible match, I kept away from her, having 
 no mind for matches de convenance, least of all, of Ma- 
 tilda's making ; but little by little I learned to know her 
 I saw, not her fortune, but a rare and noble woman, such 
 a woman as I have been waiting for, welcome to me as 
 Morning to Night. She is my Eos, my Aurora." 
 
 The stern defiance of his voice melted away, and he 
 pronounced the last words with a tender, tremulous music, 
 which showed to me how powerfully his heart was moved 
 by the thought of her. But was she not all this to me 
 and more ? Not alone my future fortune, but compensation 
 for a disappointed past ? Yes : I felt it, as never before, 
 and grew desperate with the knowledge, that, whatever the 
 issue might be, at least one of us was destined to be un- 
 happy forever. 
 
 " You say nothing," he said, at last. " I repeat to you 
 I shall win her. Will you relinquish the field ? or will you 
 follow a vain hope, and make us enemies ? I have given 
 you fair warning, and want your decision." 
 
 " You shall have it at once, Alexander," I replied. " I 
 vrill be equally frank. Like you, I admit no claims except 
 my own. This is a matter in which your fortune, your 
 superior advantages of person and social culture give you 
 no additional right. It takes more than your own will to 
 achieve success : you seem to leave her out of the account. 
 So long as she has not spoken against me, I also may hope. 
 I will not relinquish the field. You say I love her, and 
 you ask me to act as if my love were a farce ! Rivals we 
 must be : it cannot be helped ; but I will tn not to become 
 your enemy."
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 379 
 
 He laughed. " I warn you," he said, " not to depend o\ 
 your ideal of human generosity and magnanimity. If yot 
 are fortunate, I simply accept your own supposition, for 
 the moment. you would not feel hostility towards me. 
 Oh, no ! the fortunate can easily be generous. But don'i 
 imagine that I should play Pythias to your Damon in that 
 case, or that you will be any more inclined to do it for me 
 when the case is reversed. No ; let us face the truth. One 
 of us will never forgive the other." 
 
 " It may be as you say," I answered, sadly. " Would to 
 God it had not happened so ! " 
 
 " Cousin John," cried Penrose, suddenly, seizing me by 
 the hand, " I know the world better than you do. I know 
 that love, nine times out of ten, can be kindled and made 
 to burn by the breath of the stronger nature that craves it 
 1 am cool-headed, and know how to play my powers, 
 yes, my passions, if need be. You say I leave her out of 
 the account, but it is only because I believe her affections 
 to be free. The question is, which of us shall first catch 
 and hold them ? I shall succeed, because I most need to 
 be successful. Think what a cold, isolated existence is 
 mine, how few human beings I can even approach, 
 and of those few what a miracle that one forces me to love 
 her ! See, then, how all the brightness of my life hangs 
 on this chance. Give up the rivalry, John ; it is not life 
 or death with you ; you have friends ; you will have fame ; 
 yours is a nature to form new ties easily ; you will find sun- 
 shine somewhere else without trying to rob me of mine ! " 
 
 My feelings were profoundly touched by his appeal, and 
 possibly some romantic idea of generosity may have weak- 
 ened rny resolution for a moment. My heart, however, re- 
 asserted its right, reminding me that love cancels all duties 
 except its own. Possibly and the thought stung me with 
 a sharp sense of joy I was speaking for her life as well 
 as mine But, whether or not, I dared not yield merely 
 because his trumpet sounded a boast of triumph ; I must 
 stand and meet the onset
 
 380 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 " Alexander," I said, " ask me anything but this. Whet 
 Esabel Haworth tells me with her own lips that she cannot 
 ove me, I will stand back and pray God to turn her heart 
 to you. But, loving her as I do, that love, uncertain as is 
 its fortune, binds me to sacred allegiance. While it lasts, 
 I dare not and will not acknowledge any other law. [f it 
 meets its counterpart in her, I will not fear the powers you 
 may bring to move her, she is mine, though all the world 
 were in league with you. I shall employ no arts ; I shall 
 take no unfair advantage ; but if God has meant her for 
 me, I shall accept the blessing when He chooses to place 
 it in my hands." 
 
 Penrose stood silent, with folded arms. It was some 
 time before he spoke, and when he did so, it was with a 
 voice singularly changed and subdued. " I might have 
 known it would end so," he said ; " there is another strength , 
 which is as stubborn as mine. I have more reason to fear 
 you than I supposed. It is to be a fight, then ; better, per- 
 haps, with you than with another. Hereafter we shall meet 
 with lances in rest and visors down. Give me your hand, 
 John, it may be we shall never shake hands again." 
 
 Out of the night flashed a picture of the wild dell in 
 Honeybrook, and the dark-eyed boy, first stretching out a 
 cousin's hand to me from his seat on the mossy log. Was 
 the picture also in his mind that our hands clung to each 
 other so closely and so long? I could have sobbed for 
 very grief and tenderness, if my heart had not been held 
 by a passion too powerful for tears. 
 
 We walked side by side down Broadway. Neither spoke 
 a word until we parted with a quiet " Good-night ! " at the 
 corner of Bleecker Street. There was but one contingency 
 which might bring us together again as we were of old. 
 disappointment to both.
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 885 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 WHICH BRINGS A THUNDERBOLT. 
 
 DURING my interview with Penrose, I was supported bj 
 lb*< strength of an excitement which stimulated all my 
 powers of mind and heart. The reaction followed, and 
 showed me how desperate were my chances. He was in 
 every respect save the single quality of fidelity my 
 superior ; and unless she should discover that hidden virtue 
 in me, and accept it as outweighing culture, brilliancy, 
 and manly energy, there was every probability that she 
 would prefer my cousin, if called upon to choose between 
 us. The first impression which he produced upon her did 
 not seem to be favorable, but I drew little comfort there- 
 from. His face was " not easily read," she had said, which 
 only indicated that she had not yet read it. Certain ob- 
 vious characteristics may clash, even while the two natures 
 are drawing nearer and nearer in the mystic, eternal har- 
 mony of love. On the other hand, I had flattered my 
 hopes from the discovery of points of sympathy, little 
 tokens of mutual attraction ; but how deep did those signs 
 reach ? Had I any right to assume that they expressed 
 more on her side than that aesthetic satisfaction which 
 earnest minds derive from contact ? Possessing literary 
 tastes, she might feel some interest in me as a young author. 
 It was all dark and doubtful, and I shrank from making 
 the only venture which would bring certainty. 
 
 I had congratulated myself on the force of character, 
 which, I fancied, had fully developed itself out of the cir- 
 cumstances of my life. JSo doubt I had made a great stride
 
 382 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 forwards, no doubt I was rapidly becoming independent 
 and self-reliant, but the transformation was far from 
 being complete. This new uncertainty set me adrift. My 
 will seemed as yet but the foundation of a pier, not suffi- 
 ciently raised above the shifting tides of my feelings to 
 support the firm arch of fortune. I envied Penrose the 
 possession of his more imperious, determined quality. More- 
 over, the gulf into which I had looked was not yet sealed 
 there were hollow echoes under my thoughts, incredulous 
 whispers mocked the voice of my hope, and at tunes a 
 dark, inexorable Necessity usurped the government of 
 Life. 
 
 Through all these fluctuations, my love remained warm 
 an dun wavering. I clung to it, and order gradually returned 
 out of the apparent chaos. It contained the promise of 
 Faith, of reconciliation with the perverted order of the 
 world. 
 
 I now recalled, with a sense of shame, my neglect of 
 Jane Berry since the night of her rescue, and made it a 
 point to visit Gooseberry Alley next morning, before going 
 down town. I found her in Mary Maloney's kitchen, as- 
 sisting the latter in starching her linen. Her hair was 
 smoothly and neatly arranged, the bright color had come 
 back to her face, and she was, in truth, a very pretty, at- 
 tractive girl. A joyous light sparkled in her eyes when 
 she first looked up, on my entrance, but her lids then fell 
 and a deep blush mantled her cheeks. 
 
 " And it 's a long time ye take, before you show y'rself, 
 Mr. Godfrey," exclaimed Mary Maloney. " Here 's Miss 
 Jenny was beginnin' to think she 'd niver see ye agin." 
 
 " You might have told her better, Mary," I said. " 1 
 have been remiss, I know, Miss Berry, but I wanted to dis- 
 cover some chance of employment for you before calling. 
 1 am sorry to say that I have found nothing yet." 
 
 " You are very kind, sir," she answered, " and I don't wish 
 to trouble you more than can be helped. Mary has been
 
 JOHN GODFBEY'S FORTUNES. -'583 
 
 making inquiries, and she expects to get some work for me 
 very soon." 
 
 " Yes," said Mary ; " she 's frettin' herself, for fear that 
 she 's a burden on me ; but, indade, she ates no more than 
 a bird, and it is n't me that 's hard put to it to live, since 
 Hugh aims his six dollars a wake. He pays the rint, ivery 
 bit of it, and keeps hisself in clothes, and I don't begrudge 
 the lad a shillin' or so o' spendin'-money, as well as his 
 aiquals. I have my health, God be praised, and indade the 
 company she 's to me seems to give me a power o' sperrit 
 But there 's them that don't like to be beholden to others, 
 and I can't say as I blame 'em." 
 
 " Oh, it is n't that, Mary," here Jane Berry interposed ; 
 " I 'm sure you have n't allowed me to feel that I was a 
 burden, but I am really able to earn my own living, and 
 something more, I hope. It 's what I want to do, and I 
 can't feel exactly satisfied until I 'm in the way of it" 
 
 I felt ashamed of my neglect, and resolved to atone for 
 it as soon as might be. I assured Jane Berry that I should 
 take immediate steps to secure her steady employment. 
 But I could not say to her all that I desired ; Mary Malo- 
 ney was in the way. I therefore adopted the transparent 
 expedient of taking leave, going part way down the stairs, 
 and then returning suddenly to the door, as if some mes- 
 sage had been forgotten. 
 
 She came hurriedly, at my call. I remained standing on 
 the upper step, obliging her to cross the landing, the breadth 
 of which and the intervening room removed us almost be- 
 yond earshot of the Irishwoman. 
 
 " I wanted to ask you," I said, in a low voice, and some- 
 what embarrassed how to begin, kk whether she knows any- 
 thing." 
 
 " I don't know," she answered. " It seems to me that 
 everybody must mistrust me ; but I 've been afraid to tell 
 her." 
 
 - Say nothing, then, for the present. But you wanted t'
 
 884 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 give me your history, and it must be told somewhere else 
 than here. Could you go up into Washington Square, some 
 evening, and meet me ? You can say you need a walk and 
 fresh air, or you can make an errand of some kind." 
 
 She appeared to hesitate, and I added, The sooner 1 
 know more about you, the better I may be able to assist 
 you." 
 
 " I will come, then," she faltered, " but please let it be 
 some dark evening, when I would run no risk of meeting 
 
 o 7 o 
 
 her, that woman. You 've saved me once, and you would 
 n't want me to run into danger again, sir ? " 
 
 " God forbid ! Choose your own time." 
 
 In the course of a few days, with the aid of Mary Malo- 
 ney, I procured an engagement for plain needle-work, not 
 very well paid, it was true, but still a beginning which 
 would serve to allay her scruples and give her encourage- 
 ment to continue the work of self-redemption. The estab- 
 lishment was in the upper part of the Bowery, and the pro- 
 prietors required her to work on the spot, in company with 
 a score of other needle-women, an arrangement which she 
 was nervously loath to accept, but there was no help for it. 
 
 On the following Saturday night I met Miss Haworth, 
 quite unexpectedly, at a literary soiree. I was listening to 
 a conversation between a noted author and an artist whose 
 allegorical pictures were much admired in certain quarters. 
 The latter asserted that a man must himself first feel what- 
 ever he seeks to express, must believe before he can rep- 
 resent ; in other words, that the painter must be a devout 
 Christian before he can paint a Holy Family, or the poet a 
 Catholic before he can write a good hymn to the Virgin 
 The author adduced Shakspeare as an evidence of the oo- 
 jective power of genius, which can project itself into the 
 very heart of a great range of characters and recreate them 
 for its purposes. I was greatly interested in the discussion, 
 and naturally inclined to the artist's views. Not recognizing 
 my own limited powers, my immaturity of mind and habit
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 38o 
 
 of measuring other men by my individual standard, I was 
 glad to find a fact, true of myself, asserted as a general law. 
 I expressed, very warmly, my belief that hypocrisy as I . 
 called it was impossible in Art ; only that which a mar 
 really was, could he successfully express in words, on can- 
 vas, or in marble. 
 
 Suddenly I turned my head with the vague impression 
 that somebody was listening to me, and encountered Miss 
 Haworth's eyes. She was one of a lively group who were 
 commenting on a proof-engraving of one of Kaulbach's 
 cartoons, just imported from Europe, and appeared to have 
 only turned aside her head for a moment. She acknowl- 
 edged my bow, but her eyes fell, and when I sought her, as 
 soon as I could escape from the discussion, her usual ease 
 and grace of manner seemed to have been disturbed. The 
 soft, sweet eyes rather shunned than sought mine while she 
 spoke, and her words were so mechanical as to denote ab- 
 straction of mind. I feared, almost, that Penrose had 
 hinted at my passion, but the next moment acquitted him 
 of this breach of faith, and began to wonder whether she 
 did not suspect it. If so, I felt that I had strong reason to 
 hope. The serenity of her nature was evidently troubled, 
 yet she did not avoid or repel me. On the contrary, I knew 
 that her glances followed me. Without daring to watch 
 her, I walked in the light and warmth of her eyes, in an 
 intoxication of the heart which continually whispered to it- 
 self, " Your time has come, you shall be blessed at last ! " 
 
 Now I might venture to declare my love ; for, even if its 
 growth in me should encounter only its first timid develop- 
 ment in her, I should still be sure of the end. But it re- 
 quired more resolution than I had supposed to take the 
 important step. Perhaps Penrose had anticipated me, and 
 though unsuccessful, or rather, because of it had un- 
 tuned her heart for a time. Should I not wait for an inti- 
 macy which might foreshadow its object? Then the image 
 of Amanda Bratton perversely returned to annoy me. 
 
 25
 
 386 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 Some devilish attribute of memory held up, face to face 
 and forced me to see again my boyish raptures, my stolen 
 embraces, and the mockery of my final interview. It was 
 profanation to Isabel Haworth to couple her image with 
 that other, but the latter had left its impress on my life, 
 and its cold, hard features glimmered through the warm 
 tints of the ne_w picture. 
 
 I remember that I walked the streets much at this time, 
 and I think it was in one of those aimless walks that I met 
 Jane Berry returning from her day's labor. Her face was 
 covered by a thick veil, and I did not recognize her, but 
 she stopped and said, hesitatingly, " Mr. Godfrey ? " 
 
 " Oh, it is you, Jane ; are you going home ? " 
 
 " Yes, but I am ready to keep my promise, if you wish it, 
 sir. It 's on my mind and troubles me, and I may as well 
 begin first as last." 
 
 " Very well," said I ; " here is Fourth Street. We shall 
 find the square empty at this hour, and it 's your nearest 
 way home." 
 
 It was a cloudy evening and the dusk was rapidly deep- 
 ening into night. The gas already flared in the Broadway 
 shops, and the lamplighters were going their rounds from 
 one street-corner to another. There were few persons in 
 Fourth Street, and as I walked down it, beside Jane Berry, 
 I was conscious that my interest in her had somewhat faded. 
 Her rescue (if it might be called so) was a thing of the 
 past, and the romantic victim had become a commonplace 
 sempstress, to be looked after, of course, and restored to 
 her family as soon as practicable ; but I felt that I should 
 be relieved of an embarrassing responsibility when this 
 duty had been discharged. 
 
 Thus occupied with my thoughts, we reached the south- 
 ern gate of the square, and I stopped. The girl looked at 
 me as if expecting me to speak. She wanted courage to 
 commence, and I therefore asked, 
 
 "Are you willing to tell me where your home is?"
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 38< 
 
 " In Hackpttstown, sir," she answered. " Though we 
 used to live in Belvidere. My father and brother are rafts- 
 men. I came to Hackettstown to learn the trade from an 
 aunt of mine my father's sister who lives there, and 
 does a good business. In the summer she works a good 
 deal for the quality at Schooley's Mountain, and that 's how 
 I became acquainted with with him. Oh, pray, sir, don't 
 ask me to tell you his name ! " 
 
 " No, Jane," I said, " I don't care to hear it It is enough 
 to know what he is." 
 
 " He was staying at the hotel, too," she continued. " Some 
 times I went up in the stage, on errands for my aunt, and 
 walked back down the mountain. He used to meet me 
 and keep me company. I was n't taken with him at first, 
 he spoke so bold and would stare me out of countenance. 
 Then he changed, and seemed to be so humble, and talked 
 in a low voice, and put me above all the quality at the ho- 
 tel, and said he loved me truly and would make a lady of 
 me. I began to like his talk, then : I was foolish, and be- 
 lieved whatever he said. Nobody before ever praised me 
 so, not even oh, sir ! that was the worst thing I did ! 
 There was another that loved me, I am sure of it, and 
 and I am afraid now that I love him ! What will become 
 of me?" 
 
 She burst into a fit of passionate weeping. I saw by the 
 lamp that her face was pale and her limbs trembling, and 
 feared that her agitation might overcome her. I put one 
 arm around her waist to support her. bent down and tried 
 to cheer her with soothing words. Fortunately there was 
 no one near, only a carriage dashed along, and the coach- 
 man pulled up, as if about to stop at the opposite corner. 
 I involuntarily drew her away from under the lamp, and 
 into the shade of the trees beyond. 
 
 " Tell me no more," I said, " if it pains you to do so." 
 
 " I 've told you the worst now. I don't understand it at 
 ill. I can see the difference between the two, in thinking
 
 388 JOHN GODFRPS FORTUNES. 
 
 over what 's happened, but then I was charmed, as I hav 
 heard say that a bird is charmed by a rattlesnake. The 
 other one would n't praise me, I thought him readier to 
 scold, but oh ! he meant it for my good. It was pleasant 
 to be told that I was handsome, that I had good manners, 
 and that I should be a rich man's wife, and ride in my own 
 carriage and live in ease all my life. Then, sir, there was 
 to be a farm bought for father, it was only to say yes, 
 and everything should be just as I wanted, as fine as a fairy 
 tale. And I believed it all ! Only the going away so se- 
 cretly troubled me, but he said we would be back in two or 
 three days, and then what a surprise ! The two other girls 
 would be ready to tear my eyes out, for spite at my great 
 fortune ; oh, and I dare n't look them in the face now. 
 So we went away in the train, and I thought it was his house 
 he took me to " 
 
 She stopped here, unable to say more. It was needless : 
 I could guess the rest. I saw the vanity and shallowness 
 of the girl's nature, but a fearful retribution had followed 
 her false step, and it was not for me to condemn her in her 
 shame. But I stretched forth my arm and crooked my 
 fingers, thirsting to close them around the throat of tho 
 villain who had deceived her. 
 
 " You do not wish to return, then ? " I asked. " Would 
 not your aunt receive you ? " 
 
 " I have been thinking it all over. If I could say that I 
 have been at work, and have a little money to show for it, 
 and maybe a recommendation from the people I work for, 
 you see, sir, it would n't look quite so bad. Only I might 
 have to lie. That would be dreadful ; but I think it \vould 
 be more dreadful for me to tell the truth. Do you think, 
 sir. that God would forgive me for the lie ? " 
 
 Her simple question brought confusion upon my ethics. 
 I was really unable to answer it. On the one hand, the 
 unforgiving verdict of the world, : a life hopelessly dis- 
 graced by the confession of the truth ; on the other, a posi
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 3B 
 
 the sin, offering the means of atoning for sin and repairing 
 a ruined life ! 
 
 After a long pause I said, " God must answer that ques 
 tion for you. Go to Him and wait patiently until His will 
 shall be manifest. But perhaps you are right in not wish- 
 ing to return at once. I hoped you might have enabled 
 me to assist you, but it seems best, now, that you should 
 depend on yourself, unless you spoke of another " 
 
 " Don't mention him ! " she cried. " I must try not to 
 think of him any more. He 's as proud as the richest, and 
 would trample me into the dust at his feet." 
 
 I saw that any further allusion to this subject would be 
 inflicting useless pain, and proposed that she should return 
 to her lodgings. On the way I encouraged her with prom- 
 ises of procuring better employment. I already began to 
 plan what might be done, if Isabel Haworth should give 
 herself to me, I would interest her in Jane Berry's fate, 
 and that once accomplished, all the rest would be easy. 
 It was a case, moreover, for a woman's delicate hand to 
 conduct, rather than a young man like myself. 
 
 I was fearful lest Mary Maloney might notice the traces 
 of the girl's agitation, and therefore exerted myself to turn 
 the conversation into a cheerful channel. On reaching 
 Gooseberry Alley I went with her into the tenement-house, 
 partly to divert the Irishwoman's attention. Feeny, smok- 
 ing his pipe at the front-window, looked down and grinned, 
 as we waited on the steps for the opening of the door. 
 
 Up-stairs, in the little back-kitchen, the table was spread 
 for supper, and Hugh, with his shirt-sleeves rolled up as 
 usual, was attending to the frying of some bacon. The lid 
 of the tea-kettle danced an irregular jig to a tune whistled 
 by the steam, and the aspect of the room was as cheery as 
 its atmosphere was appetizing. Mary Maloney dusted the 
 stool and handed it to me, saying, 
 
 " Sure, now, and would you take a cup o' tay wi* thf 
 tikes of MS?"
 
 390 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 I assented very willingly, and drank the cheap tea, out 
 of a grotesque cup of " rale chaney, brought from th' old 
 country," with a relish. Hugh, since his promotion to 
 wages and his enrolment as a fireman, had acquired quite 
 a man'y air, but he struck me as being more taciturn than 
 ever. The red curls were clipped close to his hard, round 
 head, and his freckled chin was beginning to look stubby. 
 When he spoke his voice betrayed the most comical mixt- 
 ure of the Irish brogue and the Bowery drawl. I caught 
 huii several tunes looking at me with a singular, questioning 
 expression which puzzled me. The idea came into my 
 head, without any discoverable reason, that he disliked me. 
 Nevertheless, when his mother commanded him to light me 
 to the street, he obeyed with alacrity, going in advance, 
 and shading the dip with his big hand, to throw the most 
 of its rays on the rickety steps. 
 
 I had not seen Mrs. Deering since my first visit after Ler 
 return to the city. She was " indisposed," and her husband, 
 whom I encountered in Broadway, informed me that Fashion 
 prohibited her from appearing in society for three or four 
 months. It was therefore useless to count on the chances 
 of meeting Miss Haworth at her residence, and there was 
 no certain way left to me but to repeat my call in Gra- 
 mercy Park. I had now determined on the final venture, 
 and only sought a lucky occasion. Twice or thrice I scouted 
 around the house before finding appearances propitious ; 
 once there was a carriage in waiting, and another time I 
 distinctly recognized the shadow of Mr. Floyd crossing the 
 window-blinds. It was rather singular, I thought, that I 
 did not happen to meet Penrose. 
 
 At last, it seemed that I had hit upon the right moment 
 The house was still, and the servant informed me that Miss 
 Haworth was at home. I gave my name and entered the 
 parlor to await her coming. I was in a state of fever ; 
 my cheeks burned, my throat was parched, and my heart 
 throbbed so as almost to take away my breath. I strove
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 89 J 
 
 to collect my thoughts and arrange my approaches to the 
 important question, but the endeavor was quite useless 
 not only Amanda, but Penrose, Floyd, and Miss Levi, sent 
 their wraiths to perplex me. The cold gray eyes of one 
 woman, the powerful Oriental orbs of the other, were upon 
 rue. while each of the male rivals stretched out a hand to 
 pull me back. What was I an unknown country youth, 
 hardly more than an adventurer as yet to overleap, with 
 easy triumph, all the influences banded against me ? 
 
 There was the sound of a coming footstep. Swallowing 
 down, by a mighty effort, a part of my agitation, I leaned 
 on the back of a fauteuil, and looked at the reflected door 
 in a large mirror between the windows. It opened swiftly, 
 but the figure mirrored the next moment was not that of 
 Miss Haworth. It was a servant-girl who was quick enough 
 to deliver her errand. 
 
 " Miss Haworth says she 's not able to see you this even- 
 ing, sir," she said ; " and here 's a note she 's sent down." 
 
 I took it, a folded slip of paper, without any address, 
 but sealed at one corner. 
 
 " It is for me ? " I asked. 
 
 " Yes sir ! " the girl replied, very emphatically. 
 
 I opened it ; there were only two lines, 
 
 " Miss Haworth informs Mr. Godfrey that her acquaint 
 ance with him has ceased." 
 
 The words were so unexpected so astounding that 
 I could not at once comprehend their meaning. I felt 
 marvellously calm, but I must have turned very pale, for 
 I noticed that the girl watched me with a frightened air. 
 My first impression was that the note was a forgery. 
 
 " Who gave you this ? " I asked. 
 
 " She did, sir. I waited while she wrote it" 
 
 " Is Mr. Tracy Floyd in the house ? " 
 
 " No, sir ; he dined out to-day, and has n't come bach 
 yet" 
 
 There was nothing more to be said. I crushed the
 
 392 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 slip of paper in my fingers, mechanically thrust it into 
 my vest-pocket, and walked out of the house. I walked 
 on and on, paying no heed to my feet, neither thinking 
 nor feeling, hardly aware of who I was. My nature was 
 in the benumbed, semi-unconscious state which follows a 
 stroke of lightning. There was even a vague, feeble effort 
 at introversion, during which I whispered to myself, au- 
 dibly, " It don't seem to make much difference." 
 
 A lumber-yard arrested my progress. I looked around, 
 and found myself in a dark, quiet region of the city, un- 
 known to me. Over the piles of boards, I could see the 
 masts of sloops. I had followed Twentieth Street, it ap- 
 peared, across to the North River. I now turned down 
 Eleventh Avenue, and walked until I came to a pier. The 
 dark water which I heard, surging in from pile to pile, with 
 a whishing thud at each, called me with an irresistible voice. 
 I was not conscious of any impulse to plunge in and fathom 
 the wearisome mystery of life ; but if I had accidentally 
 walked off the pier in the darkness, I would scarcely have 
 taken the trouble to cry for help. 
 
 The pier-watchman confronted me with a rough, " What 
 do you want here ? " 
 
 " Nothing," I said. 
 
 "Who are you?" 
 
 Nobody." 
 
 " Then take yourself off, Mr. Nobody, or I '11 make a 
 Somebody of you." 
 
 I obeyed him.
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 89C' 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 IK WHICH I BEGIN TO GO DOWNWARDS. 
 
 IT struck nine o'clock when I reached my lodgings. 1 
 ras half-way up the first flight of steps when I suddenly 
 asked myself the question, " What am I going to do ? " M\ 
 duties called me to the newspaper-office, but I felt that I 
 was fit neither for labor, sleep, nor solitude. My only con- 
 scious desire was oblivion of the Present, escape from 
 myself. After a moment's reflection I turned, descended 
 the stairs, went out of the house, and made my way straight 
 to Crosby Street 
 
 Miles welcomed me with, " Glad to see you, sir, most 
 of the gents is in," and, as he spoke, the Avenger's 
 reporter issued from the Cave. 
 
 <k You 're just in time, Godfrey," said the latter ; " they 're 
 in the humor for making a night of it. I wish I could stay, 
 but the Election plays the deuce with one's pleasures. No 
 less than three meetings to-night: I must down to the 
 office, and out again." 
 
 " Then," I observed, " you can do me a favor. I must 
 write a line to Severn. Will you drop it in the business 
 office, to be sent up to him?" 
 
 I got a scrap of paper from Miles, scribbled a few hasiy 
 words saying that I was ill and unable to attend to my 
 work, inclosed it in a brown envelope and gave it to the 
 reporter. Having thus shirked my duties, I entered the 
 Cave. 
 
 The usual company was assembled, with the exception 
 of Brandagee, who, however, had promised to be present
 
 804 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 The plan of the Cily Oracle had been revived, I was 
 informed, and this time there would be no mistake. 
 There were two additions to the company, both of them 
 smart, comic writers, whose debut in the Sunday papers 
 had been immensely successful, while "the millstone," as 
 Brandagee was accustomed to call Mr. Ponder, had been 
 fortunately removed. He had found a congenial place, as 
 the writer of moral essays for a religious weekly, and came 
 no more to the Ichneumon. 
 
 " I met him yesterday at the corner of the Bible House." 
 said Smithers, "and I believe the fellow would have* cut 
 my acquaintance if he had dared. He was so pompously 
 proper and pious that I said, ' Have you a tract to spare ? ' 
 and turned down the collar of his overcoat, to see if he 
 wore a white cravat. But what can you expect from the 
 lymphatic temperament ? There 's no muscle about him, 
 only adipose substance, and his neck is as thin as the 
 back of a rail." 
 
 Smithers untied his scarlet cravat and loosened his 
 shirt-collar, as if to show that, his neck was the reverse of 
 i;hin, and, indeed, it bore no slight resemblance to a 
 plethoric column of the Indian cave-temples, surmounted 
 by its poppy-head capital. He would have accepted this 
 comparison as a compliment He knew just enough of 
 the Indian mythology to suppose that some of its features 
 were rude, primitive forms of his own philosophy of life ; 
 he also adored the symbol of Siva, but under a less 
 exalted significance. 
 
 All the initiation-fees of our clique or club had been 
 contributed long since, and each individual was now forced 
 to pay for his own refreshment ; yet this necessity seemed 
 to be no embarrassment There might be no funds on 
 hand for a new coat or pair of boots, but there was always 
 enough for beer. I ordered a Toby of old ale, and drank 
 it down, at one breath, from the cock of the hat. Mears 
 immediately drew a caricature of me, holding a barra'
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 89 
 
 aloft by the chines, with the bung-hole over my opet 
 mouth. Miles was an infallible judge of ales, and the 
 keen, ripe fluid brought life and warmth back to my stag- 
 nant blood. I was too reckless to stop short of any extrav 
 agance, whether of potation or of speech. 
 
 " Godfrey, is it to be an epic or a tragedy ? " cried Mears. 
 u You 've got a thirsty idea in your head, a big plant, I 
 should say. to require so much irrigation." Then he roared 
 out a stanza of the old bacchanal of Walter de Mapes, 
 which he had learned to sing at Dusseldorf. 
 
 " Tales versus facio, quale vinum bibo ; 
 Neque possum scribere, nisi siunto cibo ; 
 Nihil valet penitus quod jejunus scribo; 
 Nasonem post calices carmine pneibo." 
 
 " That sounds more like a jubilate for a birth than a 
 mass for the dead," said Brandagee, entering the room. 
 " Has any of you just been delivered ? " 
 
 " It 's the inauguration hymn for the Oracle" I retorted, 
 " and you are just in time to give the opening address." 
 
 " Here it is, Babcock has come to terms. This time 
 we shall begin with the Opera, and I fancy we '11 make a 
 sensation. The Impresario is all right ; I 've just had a 
 bottle with him at Curet's. Now to lubricate my tongue, 
 
 what can I take after Be'aume ? " 
 " Whiskey," suggested Smithers. 
 
 " Yes, if I could order one of your famous 'long-shore- 
 men's stomachs with it But my taste is delicate to-night, 
 
 I want claret. Who 11 lend me money at the risk of 
 never bein^ repaid ? " 
 
 N ; e of the others were eager to embrace the risk, 
 which noticing, I handed Brandagee a five-dollar note 
 across the table. The money had no value to me now, 
 and I wanted the help of his reckless fancy and his auda- 
 cious tongue. 
 
 '* Godfrey, you deserve to make heavier profits," said he 
 u I '11 put you in the way of it for the sake of a loan non
 
 396 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 and then. Meanwhile you shall have the half of what this 
 brings, and I '11 continue to owe you the whole of it. In 
 that way we shall both gain by the operation." 
 
 Amid much laughter the order was given, and we were 
 fairly launched on the fun of the evening. Miles, who was 
 always in a good humor when there was a certainty of our 
 spending a respectable sum, contributed a handful of 
 cigars, and the air of the room soon put on its blue 
 mysterious density, severe upon the eyes, but stimulating 
 to the imagination. 
 
 " About the Oracle" said Brandagee, throwing his heels 
 upon another chair and settling himself comfortably for 
 talk, " we must seriously begin to work for it. I think it 
 would be best to open the first number with a burlesque 
 platform, in the style of the political papers, making our 
 principles so broad that they would just amount to none at 
 all. I had it in mind to copy the plan of Le Flaneur, 
 which came out while I was in Paris. There was nothing 
 about it to indicate a new paper : the leader began, ' In our 
 article of yesterday we said ' so and so ; and the novel in 
 the feuilleton was in its ninth chapter. It mystified every- 
 body, as you may imagine. But I guess the joke would be 
 too fine for the American mind to relish. What passes for 
 wit among us, is simply a colossal absurdity ; our bur- 
 lesques are the most exaggerated the world ever saw. "We 
 must throw tubs to the whale and sops to Cerberus. After 
 all, I rely most on the incidental sources of profit to keep 
 up the paper." 
 
 " As how ? " asked one of the company. 
 
 " Well, if there is audacity and arrogance enough among 
 us, we '11 soon get a reputation for critical knowledge. 
 Once let the Oracle become the oracle of opinion in artis- 
 tic, dramatic, and fashionable matters, and you see what our 
 recommendation will be worth. Why, two or three theatres 
 alone would club together to keep up a paper which sent 
 the public to their ticket-offices, if there were any dangei
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 397 
 
 of it going down. This is the simple philosophy of tn 
 matter : we know what is good or bad, the public don't 
 The public, let me tell you, always takes its opinion on such 
 matters at second-hand, and is often put to much inconven- 
 ience by the absence of an infallible standard. Now, sup. 
 pose we supply this standard ; we then hold the fate of 
 every book, picture, play, opera, to say nothing of hotels, 
 restaurants, tailors' and milliners' establishments, and the 
 like, in our own hands. We have a positive power, and the 
 exercise of power is just what commands the highest price. 
 All we want is talent enough to maintain our position. I 
 think we have that, and the next thing is to work together. 
 Somebody must take the lead and direct the operations of 
 the concern, and the others must submit to his direction, 
 or we 're ruined before we begin." 
 
 That somebody, we all understood, must be Brandagee 
 himself. The prospect of entire submission to his dicta- 
 tion was not altogether pleasant to any of us, but he pre- 
 sented it as an ultimatum which must needs be accepted. 
 I was not in a frame of mind to notice any other fact than 
 that I should be well paid for a few sharp, bitter, racy arti- 
 cles, such as I felt myself in a proper mood to write. 
 As to Brandagee's hints of the channels through which the 
 incidental profits were to be derived, they did not trouble 
 me now. If people paid, they were supposed to receive aii 
 equivalent, at least, they would think so, and they were 
 the parties most concerned. 
 
 " Not a bad plan," said Smithers, referring to this branch 
 of the business. " It 's a sort of literary filibustering which 
 will developmental courage and muscle, qualities which 
 this age sorely needs. We shall be like the wandering 
 knights of the Middle Ages, going out to conquer domains 
 and principalities, or like the Highland chieftains, swoop- 
 ing down on the plodding Lowlanders, and taking their 
 surplus cattle. In fact, we could n't have a better mottc 
 toan Rob Roy's."
 
 398 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 " There 's Florentine, for instance," said ^randagec 
 " What he has done, we may do, all the more easily here, 
 where there are no intelligent rivals in the field. He 's a 
 tolerably clever writer, but his chief power is in manage' 
 ment. He knows everybody, and has the run of all the in- 
 fluential papers, so that whether his word is the strongest 
 or not, it goes further than any one else's. I suppose the 
 same thing might be tried here, if the chief dailies were 
 not such damnable cats and dogs, but if we can lump the in- 
 fluence now scattered among them, and hold it as our own 
 property, don't you see how the system will be simplified ? " 
 
 The others all professed they saw it very clearly. In 
 fact, as they began to understand " the system," they grew 
 more willing to leave to Brandagee the task of carrying it 
 into effect. Mears no longer hinted at " black mail," but 
 rejoiced in the opportunity offered to him of demolishing 
 Seacole, the allegorical painter. The opinions of the lat- 
 ter on the connection between Faith and Art, which I was 
 wicked enough to betray, gave Mears the material for an 
 exquisitely ironical description of his rival, letting his beard 
 and nails grow and rolling himself in the ash-heap, to pre- 
 pare his soul for the conception of a figure of St. Jerome. 
 
 There was another feeling which instigated me to join in 
 this dishonorable scheme. My literary ambition, I have al- 
 ready said, was disturbed ; its fresh, eager appetite was 
 blunted, with increasing knowledge of myself, and from the 
 other fluctuations of my fortunes, but I was also disap- 
 pointed, though I would not confess the fact to myself. 
 After the kind, almost tender reception of my volume, I 
 seemed to make no progress. I was welcomed at my en- 
 trance into the literary guild, and then ignored. The 
 curiosity attending the presentation of a new individuality 
 in letters is soon satisfied, and many are the unfortunate 
 authors who have accepted this curiosity as fame. But 
 serious achievement is necessary to retain an interest which 
 is liable to be overlaid by the next comer. The public
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 899 
 
 seems to say, "This man may be a genius, we have given 
 him welcome and encouragement ; now let him prove his 
 right ! " 
 
 The rule is natural, and I am satisfied that it is just 
 The firstlings of any author generally have an artless, un- 
 pretending beauty of their own, which is none the less in- 
 teresting because it is not permanent Poets are like 
 apple-trees ; there is a season of bloom and a season of 
 fruit, but between the two we often find a long period 
 when the blossoms have fallen and the fruit is not yet ripe, 
 a silent, noteless, almost unlovely season of growth and 
 transition. The world, at such times, passes heedlessly b; 
 the tree. 
 
 Though I professed to be indifferent to the neglect of 
 my name, I was in reality embittered. I might value a lit- 
 erary reputation less than formerly, but it was not pleasant 
 to feel that I was losing my chance for it. I saw that other 
 young authors, comparison with whom impartially made, 
 although I did it was not unfavorable to myself, kept 
 their hold on the public attention, while others, in whom I 
 found neither taste nor culture, were rising into notice. It 
 would be well, I thought, to let the public see how egre- 
 giously it was mistaken in some of these cases ; I would 
 show that slang and clap-trap very often make the staple 
 of a. wide-spread reputation. 
 
 This petulant, captious disposition was encouraged by the 
 tone adopted by my associates of the Cave of Trophonius. 
 I was astonished and a little shocked at first, but I soon be- 
 came accustomed to the cool, assured manner in which con- 
 temporary fames were pulled to pieces, and the judgment 
 of posterity pronounced in anticipation. This sort of as- 
 surance is soon acquired, and in a short time I became as 
 great an expert as the rest Having already unlearned so 
 much of my early faith and reverence, making them re- 
 sponsible, indeed, for my misfortunes. I rather exagger- 
 ated the opposite qualities, through fear of not sufficient!}
 
 400 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 possessing them. It was a pitiful weakness, but, alas ! w 
 can only see correctly our former, not our present selves. 
 
 When I arose, late the next day, after a revel carried 
 beyond midnight, I was in no better mood for resuming my 
 regular labors. Duty, in any shape, had become " flat, 
 stale, and unprofitable," and I felt strongly inclined to com- 
 pensate for the lack of that luxurious indulgence which my 
 nature craved, by lower forms of license. The blow of the 
 previous evening had stunned rather than wounded me, 
 and I felt that I should never again be sensitive to the 
 good or ill report of men. 
 
 As for Miss Haworth, two explanations of her act pre- 
 sented themselves to my mind. Either Penrose or Floyd 
 had misrepresented my character to her, or her position as 
 an heiress had made her suspicious, and she attributed a mer- 
 cenary object to my attentions. The latter surmise seemed 
 the more plausible, as the circle in which she moved prob- 
 ably offered her few examples of pure, unselfish unions. 
 The higher her ideal of love, the more cautious she would 
 be to keep from her its baser semblance, and my principal 
 cause of grievance was, that, in her haste and suspicion, she 
 had misjudged my heart. I could not seek a justification ; 
 it was too delicate a subject to be discussed, except between 
 confessed lovers. She might have dismissed me in less 
 cruel a fashion, I thought, but it made little difference in 
 the end. She was lost to me, without giving me a reason 
 for ceasing to love her. 
 
 The more I reflected on this subject, the more sure I 
 was of having guessed the true explanation. She had re 
 jected me, not because I was poor, but because she was 
 rich, I, that would have thought it bliss to work for her. 
 to wear out my life in making hers smooth and pleasant to 
 her feet ! I said, with a bitter ejaculation, that gold is the 
 god of the world, that no heart can beat with a natural 
 emotion, no power of mind expand with a free growth, nc 
 life rejoice in the performance of its appointed work, with
 
 JOHN GODFKEY'S FORTUNES. 401 
 
 out first rendering sacrifice to this Moloch ! And yet, what 
 Brandagee had said was true ; it was no substance, 't had 
 not even the dignity of a material force : it was simply an 
 appearance, nothing when held and only turning into 
 possession when thrown away. 
 
 I accepted, with stolid indifference, the prospect of a 
 onely life. Never again would I allow myself to love a 
 woman, when the love of this one should have gradually 
 perished (as I fancied it would), for want of sustenance. 
 No home, no household joys, should ever be mine. The 
 sainted spirit of my poor mother would never be called 
 upon to bless the grandchildren whom she would fain have- 
 lived to kiss : I should go back to her alone, as on Saturday 
 nights from my school at Honeybrook, if, indeed, there 
 was anything beyond the ashes of the grave. This life, that 
 opened so sunnily, that promised so fairly, what had it 
 become ? and why, therefore, should our dreams of rest and 
 peace hereafter be more securely based ? What sort of a 
 preparation was there in the endurance of disappointment 
 and injustice, to a nature whose natural food is joy ? 
 
 So I reasoned or, rather, thought I reasoned with 
 myself. There was no one to hold me up until my feet were 
 strong enough to tread the safe and difficult track alone. 
 Swansford was my only intimate friend, but, as I had not 
 confided to him the growth of my passion, so now I with- 
 held the confession of its untimely end. Besides, he seemed 
 to be growing more sad and morbid. His views of life, if 
 less cynical, were equally dark, and he often unconsciously 
 encouraged me in my reckless determination to enjoy " the 
 luck of the moment," whatever it might be. My position 
 in Literature was similar to his in Musical Art ; both had 
 aspired and failed to achieve. The drudgery by which he 
 supplied his personal wants was very irksome, but he would 
 not replace it, as he might have done, by labors which he 
 considered disgraceful to his art. Herein there was a 
 difference between us, a difference which at first had 
 96
 
 402 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 made me respect him, but which I now turned to ridicule 
 If he were fool enough to sacrifice his few possibilities of 
 enjoyment to an unprofitable idea, I would not imitate him 
 
 After a few days of idle and gloomy brooding, followed 
 by nights at the Ichneumon, I was driven back to the 
 Wonder office, by the emptiness of my purse. I resumed 
 my duties, performing them in a spiritless, mechanical fash- 
 ion, with omissions which drew upon me Mr. Clarendon's 
 censure. The Oracle was to appear in a fortnight or so, 
 and I comforted myself with the pecuniary prospect which 
 it held out to me, resolving, if it were successful, to cut 
 loose from the daily treadmill round of the Wonder. My 
 short articles for Jenks's Ship of the Line became smart 
 and savage, as they reflected the change of my temper, and 
 Jenks began to send back the proofs to me with a query on 
 the margin, " Is n't this a little too strong ? " Following 
 Brandagee's advice, I had demanded twenty dollars instead 
 of the original five, but, as I lacked his brass, compromised 
 for ten. This, however, was a small matter : I counted on 
 receiving fifty dollars a week, at least, from the Oracle. 
 
 The days went by, fogs and chill, lowering skies succeed- 
 ed to the soft autumnal days, and finally the opera season 
 opened and the important paper appeared. There was an 
 office in a third story in Nassau Street, a sign in illuminated 
 Gothic letters, advertisements in the daily papers, negotia- 
 tions with news-dealers, and all the other evidences of an 
 establishment, intended not for a day but for several 
 years, at least. We celebrated the issue of the first num- 
 ber by a supper at Curet's, at which Mr. Babcock was pres- 
 ent It was unanimously agreed that nothing so spicy and 
 brilliant had ever been published in New York. It trans- 
 pired, in the course of the entertainment, that Babeoi k and 
 Brandagee had equal shares in the proprietorship, and I 
 was, consequently, a little disappointed when the latter 
 handed me only fifteen dollars for one of my most dashing 
 and spiteful sketches, three columns in length.
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 408 
 
 " We must have the power first," he said, " and then we 11 
 have the pay. Babcock is tight, and I don't want to make 
 him nervous at the start. It will take about three or four 
 weeks to get the reins in my hands." 
 
 He gave me a significant wink, and I was reassured 
 There was the great fact of the paper being actually in 
 existence Creation, of course, implied vitality, and the 
 mere start, to my mind, involved permanence and success. 
 An easy, careless life was before me for the immediate 
 future, at least, and I did not care to look farther. 
 
 I knew, from Mr. Severn's hints, as well as from Mr. 
 Clarendon's ominous looks, that I was getting into disgrace 
 with both of them. Accordingly, I was not surprised one 
 Saturday morning, on being summoned to the sanctum of 
 the latter, a call which I obeyed with a dogged indiffer- 
 ence to the result 
 
 "I am sorry to notice your remissness, Mr. Godfrey," 
 said the chief, with a grave air, and I have only post- 
 poned speaking of it, because I hoped you would have 
 seen and corrected it yourself. The paper is injured, sir, 
 by your neglect." 
 
 " I work as I am paid," I answered. " If you can find a 
 better man, on the same terms, I am willing to give him 
 my place." 
 
 " It is not that alone, Mr. Godfrey. You promised to 
 become an available writer, and your remuneration would 
 have been increased. I am afraid the company you keep 
 or the habits you have formed are responsible for your 
 failure to advance as fast as I anticipated. For your own 
 sake, I shall be glad if you can assure me that this is not 
 the case." 
 
 " I was not aware," I said, " that I was to look to some 
 one else to choose my company and prescribe my habits." 
 
 " I suspect," he continued, without noticing this defiant 
 remark. that Brandagee has too much influence over you. 
 I see your name in his new paper, a clever rocket, but il
 
 404 JOHN GODFBET'S FORTUNES. 
 
 will soon burn itself out I advise you to have nothing 
 more to do with it." 
 
 " No," said I, " I prefer giving up my place here." 
 
 " Very well, but I am sorry for it Mr. Severn ! " he 
 called, rising and going to the door, " see Phelps this after- 
 noon, and tell him to be on hand to-morrow evening ! " 
 
 Severn looked at me, for the first time in his life, with a 
 malignant expression. I laughed in his face, took a few 
 private papers from the drawers of the desk I had used 
 for two years and a half, thrust them into my pocket, and 
 walked out of the office. 
 
 On the steps I met Mr. Lettsom, with his hands full of 
 law-reports on transfer-paper. I had always liked the 
 plain, plodding, kind-hearted fellow, and would fain present 
 him in these pages as he deserved, but that, after his 
 first service, he mingled no more in the events of my life. 
 
 " Good-bye, Lettsom," I said, giving him my hand ; " you 
 brought me here, and now I am taking myself off." 
 
 He looked bewildered and pained when I told him what 
 had occurred. " Don't do it, don't think of doing it ! " 
 he cried. 
 
 " It is already done." 
 
 I ran down the steps past him, and gained the street. 
 My days of drudgery were over, but I could not enjoy the 
 sense of freedom. There was a pang in breaking off this 
 association which I could not keep down, it was like 
 pushing away from the last little cape which connected 
 me with the firm land, and trusting myself to the unsta 
 hie sea.
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 406 
 
 CHAPTER XXXTT. 
 
 CONCERNING MARY MALONEY*S TROUBLE, AND WHAT I 
 DID TO REMOVE IT. 
 
 ONE of the first results of the vagabond life into which 
 I was rapidly drifting was a dislike for the steady, ordered, 
 respectable circles of society. I looked, with a contempt 
 which, I now suspect, must have been half envy, on the 
 smooth, prosperous regularity of their ways, and only felt 
 myself at ease among my clever, lawless associates, or 
 among those who were poor and rude enough to set aside 
 conventionalities. Thus it happened that I visited Mary 
 Maloney much more frequently at this time than formerly. 
 Jane Berry had been promoted, and was allowed to work 
 at home, and I found a great pleasure in the society of two 
 women who knew nothing oi me and would probably 
 believe nothing but good. They were both ignorant, 
 and they looked up to me for counsel, and listened to my 
 words with a manifest reverence, which, to a man of my 
 years, was a most delicate flattery. 
 
 Sometimes I went in the early evening, with a few 
 ounces of tea, or some other slight gift, as my excuse, but 
 oftenest in the afternoons, when Hugh was sure to be 
 absent. The silence of this growing bully, and the glances 
 which he shot at me out of his bold eyes, were not encour- 
 agements to conversation in his presence. I fancied him 
 to be one of those natures, at once coarse and proud, who 
 bear an obligation almost as restively as if it were an 
 injury. 
 
 After a while, however, I detected a change in Mar)
 
 406 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 Maloney's manner towards me. She no longer met roe 
 with the same hale, free welcome when I came: her 
 tongue, wont to run only too fast, halted and stumbled ; 
 I could see, although she strove to hide it, that my pres- 
 ence was a constraint, yet could not guess why it should 
 be so. This was annoying, not only on account of the old 
 familiarity between us, but because I had a hearty liking 
 for Jane Berry, who was almost the only person living in 
 whose fate I was earnestly interested. 
 
 The latter, since the night when she had confided to me 
 her history, no longer met me with a shy, blushing face, 
 but showed a frank, fearless pleasure in my society. My 
 visits seemed to cheer and encourage her, and \vith the 
 growing sense of security, her hopeful spirit returned. 
 She would soon be ready, I believed, to think of going 
 back to the little New Jersey village. 
 
 It was near Christmas, I remember trying to fix upon 
 some appropriate, inexpensive gift for the only two female 
 friends left to me, as I walked by the gayly decorated 
 shops in Broadway, when I turned, one afternoon, into 
 Gooseberry Alley. I met Mary Maloney at the door of 
 the tenement-house, with her bonnet on, and a basket of 
 laundered linen in her hand. 
 
 " What ! going away, Mary ? " I said. " I was about to 
 pay you a visit." 
 
 She put down her basket on the floor of the passage, 
 and looked at me with a troubled expression. " Miss 
 Jenny 's at home," she said at last, with an air of hesitation, 
 " but I s'pose, sir, you would n't want to see her, ar d me 
 not there?" 
 
 " Why not ? " 1 answered, laughing. " She 's not afraid 
 of me, nor you either, Mary. Have I grown to be danger- 
 ous all at once ? " 
 
 " Sure, and it is n't that, Mr. Godfrey. Would you mind 
 comin* a bit down the strate wi' me ? I 'd like to spake 
 with you for a minute, jist"
 
 JOHff GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 407 
 
 " Oh, certainly," I said, turning and walking in advance 
 between the gutter and the wall, until I reached the broader 
 sidewalk of Sullivan Street Here she joined me with her 
 basket, and, when we were beyond hearing of any strag 
 glers in the Alley, halted. 
 
 " I 'm a widow, Mr. Godfrey," she said, " and, askin* y'l 
 pardon, sir, nigh old enough to be the mother o' you. 
 There 's been somethin' I 've been a-wantin' to say to you, 
 but it is n't a thing that 's aisy said ; howsiver, I 've spoke 
 to the praste about it, and he says as you 're a proper young 
 man and my intentions is right, it 's no sin, naither shame, 
 but rather a bounden juty, sir, and I hope you '11 take 
 it so. It may n't seem right for me to go fornenst you, 
 bein' so beholden to your goodness, and I wud n't if there 
 was any way to help it." 
 
 Here she paused, as if expecting a reply. I had no idea, 
 however, of the communication so solemnly preluded, and 
 would have laughed outright but for the grave expression 
 of her face. " I understand that, Mary," I said ; " now tell 
 me the rest" 
 
 " It 's about Miss Jenny, sir. The neighbors knowed of 
 her comin', and who brought her, all along o' Teeny's bein' 
 roused up in the night, and their tongues was n't idle, you 
 may think. Girls wantin' sewin' a'n't to be picked up in 
 the strates o' midnights, and though I knowed it was all 
 right because you said so, it was n't quare, considering that 
 folks should talk. You may think it 'd make little differ- 
 ence, anyhow, among us poor bodies ; but we have our car- 
 rackters as well as our betters. "Well when they saw 
 how handy and stiddy she was at her needle, they seemed 
 to give me the rights of it ; but now it 's all t' other way, 
 along o' you comin' so fraiquently, sir, and I 'm sure 
 you 're welcome, ivery time, and as for me, I 'm an honest 
 woman, and nobody can say a word fornenst me, Damn 
 they lie, but things is said, sir, as is n't agrayable to hear 
 and hardly dacent to repate. Maybe you can guess 'em."
 
 408 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 " What ! " I exclaimed, " do they charge Jane Berrj 
 with being a mistress of mine ? I suppose that is what 
 you mean. You know, Mary, that it is a lie." 
 
 "I know, sir," she answered, {> but my word goes for 
 nothin' aginst appairances. Feenys takes my part, and 
 says if it 's so, it 's unbeknowns to me, which would be 
 true if the t' other thing was, but, in course, that don't 
 stop their tongues. You see, sir, I can't bring it over my 
 heart to tell her, she 's a dacent, kindly, lovin' little body 
 as iver was ; but she '11 find it out to her sorra." 
 
 " Well," said I, " rather than that you and she should 
 be annoyed and slandered in this way, I must give up my 
 visits. Is there anything else I can do to satisfy those 
 fools?" 
 
 " There was somethin' else I had on my mind, and there 's 
 no use o' makin' two bites at a cherry," said she, with a 
 curious misapplication of the proverb. But her face grew 
 red and her voice dropped to a whisper. I began to fear 
 absurd as the thought was that she also had been 
 implicated in those amiable reports. 
 
 " It 's harder to tell," she said at last, wiping her face 
 with her apron, " but maybe you 11 know what I mane, 
 without my sayin' too much. I 'm thinkin' o' Hugh. I 've 
 seen, plainly enough, that somethin 's the matter wi' the 
 lad, iver since she come into the house. If he 's an honest 
 likin' to her, it is n't to be thought that she '11 take up wi' 
 the likes o' him, though there a'n't a stouter and whole- 
 
 7 O 
 
 somer boy o' his age in New York, and if he has nV, it 's 
 worse. He can't keep the eyes of him off her, and the 
 temper of him 's jist mint intirely. Maybe I 'm doin' 
 wrong, bearin' witness aginst my own boy, but if you could 
 hear him swear sometimes, sir, and grind his teeth in his 
 slape, as I do, layin' awake and thinkin' what's to be 
 done ! " 
 
 The widow's words threw a quick, strong light on Hugh's 
 behavior. She was keener-sighted than I, and she had
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 409 
 
 placed the whole situation clearly before me. Evidently, 
 she relied upon me to relieve both her and Jane Berry 
 from its certain distress, its possible danger, and she must 
 not be disappointed. 
 
 " Mary," I said, after a moment's reflection, " I am so 
 surprised by all this that I must take time to think it over. 
 You were quite right to tell me, and I give you my word 
 that I will not stop until the matter is set right." 
 
 " Thank ye, sir ! " she gratefully exclaimed. " I knowed 
 you had the knowlidge and the willin' heart" 
 
 Then she went on down Sullivan Street, while I turned 
 in the opposite direction, intending to go into Washington 
 Square and turn the subject over in my mind, as I had 
 promised. I was profoundly vexed, not that /cared for 
 the suspicions of that Irish pack, but on Jane Berry's ac- 
 count Of course she must leave Gooseberry Alley without 
 delay, and my principal task was to find a pretext for 
 removing her. 
 
 What was the thought that suddenly caused me to stop, 
 and then hurried me back the way I came ? As this is 
 to be an impartial history, it must be told ; but I can best 
 tell it by relating what followed. Every detail of the scene 
 remains fresh and vivid in my memory. 
 
 I reentered Gooseberry Alley, and in another moment 
 knocked at the door of Mary Maloney's lodgings. It was 
 opened, as I expected, by Jane Berry, and I carefully 
 closed it behind me as I entered, lest any of the Feenys 
 might be eavesdropping. Jane had taken her work to the 
 window of the little kitchen, where there was more light 
 of an afternoon, and briskly resumed her needle after ad- 
 mitting me. I noticed how fine and glossy her hair was 
 where the light touched it 
 
 " Mary 's not at home," she said, as I took a seat 
 
 " I know it, Jane, and that is the reason why I have come 
 to see you. I met her in the street." 
 
 I was embarrassed how to proceed further. She looked 
 op with a wondering expectancy, and forced me to go on.
 
 410 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 u I have heard something," I said, u which I am afraid 
 vrill be very disagreeable news to you. I would not con\e 
 to trouble you with it, if I did not think it was necessary.'* 
 
 She became so pale and frightened all at once that 1 
 saw what she suspected, and hastened to allay her fears. 
 
 " I know what you are thinking of, Jane ; but it is not 
 that. The woman has not found you out, nay. I am sure 
 she has ceased looking for you by this time. It is some- 
 thing which you could not have imagined, something 
 which affects myself as well as you. My visits, it seems, 
 have been noticed by the poor, ignorant fools who live in 
 these houses, and they can only explain them in their own 
 coarse way. I see you don't understand me yet ; I must 
 say, then, that neither of us is considered as virtuous as 
 the people think we should be." 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Godfrey ! " she cried, " and I 've brought this 
 on you ! I 'm sure it must have been Mary who told you ; 
 she has n't seemed to me like the same woman for a week 
 past, but I thought she might have troubles of her own. 
 I felt that something was n't right, but I never thought of 
 that ! She don't believe it, surely ? " 
 
 u She does not," I said ; " but this wicked gossip spares 
 her none the more for that She is a good, kind-hearted 
 woman, and must not be allowed to suffer on account of it" 
 
 " No, no, I 'd rather tell her everything ; but, then, 
 it would n't help, after all. I ought n't to stay here since 
 the story is believed ; what can I do, if I leave ? " 
 
 " Make the story true," I said. 
 
 Yes, those were my very words. What wonder if she 
 did not understand them, if her look of innocent bewil- 
 derment caused my wanton eyes to drop, and a sting of re- 
 morseful shame to strike through my heart ? They were 
 said, however, and could not be recalled, and I saw that her 
 mind, in another moment, would comprehend their mean- 
 ing. So I crushed down the rising protest of my bettei 
 iel and repeated,
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 411 
 
 " Make the story true. If we try to be good, we get nc 
 credit for it, and it is no worse to be what they say we aro 
 than to have them believe so." 
 
 She still looked at me incredulously, though the color 
 was deepening on her cheek and creeping down over her 
 slender throat. " Mr. Godfrey," she said at last, in a low, 
 fluttering voice, " you are not saying what you really think ?" 
 
 " It is true ! " I exclaimed. " Look at the thing yourself; 
 your life is ruined, and so is mine. Everything goes wrong 
 with me, doing right has brought me nothing but mis- 
 fortune. You are more to be pitied than blamed, yet the 
 villain who ruined you is a respectable member of society, 
 no doubt, while you are condemned as long as you live. 
 You see how unjust is the judgment of the world, at any 
 rate, / do, and I have ceased to care for it If we unite 
 our lives, we may be some comfort to each other. I can 
 make enough money to keep you from want, and that is 
 probably all you would ever have, if your friends were to 
 take you back again. You may be sure, also, that I would 
 be both kind and faithful." 
 
 The poor girl changed color repeatedly while I was uv 
 tering these cruel words. I thought she was deliberating 
 whether to accept my proposition ; but her heart, shallow 
 as were its emotions, was still too deep for my vision to 
 fathom. She was too agitated to speak ; her lips moved 
 to inaudible words, and her eyes looked an unintelligible 
 question. I stooped down and took her hand ; it was 
 trembling, and she drew it gently out of my grasp. But the 
 words were again repeated, and this time I heard them, 
 
 " Do you love me ? " 
 
 I felt, by a sudden flash of instinct, all that the question 
 implied. In that moment, I became the arbiter of her fate. 
 There was an instant's powerful struggle between the Truth 
 and the Lie ; but, thank God, I was not yet wholly debased. 
 
 " No," I said, " I will not deceive you, Jane. I do not 
 love you. Love ! I have had enough of loving. Yes,
 
 112 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 you may know the whole truth ; I love as you do, on* 
 who is lost to me, and through no fault of mine. What is 
 left to me, to either of us ? " 
 
 She had covered her face with her hands, and was weep- 
 ing passionately. I knew for whom her tears were shed, 
 and how unavailingly, but her grief was less than mine, 
 by as much as the difference in the depth of our natures. 
 I felt no movement of pity for her, because I had ceased to 
 feel it for myself. 
 
 I waited until her sobs ceased, and then took her hand 
 again. " Come, Jane," I said, " it does no good to re- 
 member him. I, too, will try to forget her who has cast 
 me off, and perhaps you and I may come to love each other 
 after a while. But we need n't make any pretence in the 
 beginning, because we both know bettef." 
 
 Again she released her hand, but this time with a quick, 
 impulsive motion. She rose from her seat and retreated 
 a step from me. Her face was very pale, and her eyes 
 wide with a new and unexpected expression. " Don't say 
 anything more, Mr. Godfrey ! " she cried ; " I am afraid of 
 you ! Oh, is all the good you 've done for me to go for noth- 
 ing ? I '11 never believe this was in your mind when you 
 picked me up, and set me on my feet, and put me in the 
 right way again. I 've been praying God every night to 
 bless you ; you seemed to me almost like one of His an- 
 gels, and it 's dreadful to see the Bad Spirit looking out of 
 your eyes, and putting words into your mouth. I don't 
 complain because what you 've said to me hurts me ; I 've 
 no right to expect anything else. but it 's because you 've 
 said it Oh, Mr. Godfrey, don't say that it 's my fault, 
 that helping me has put such things into your head ; please, 
 don't say that ! It would be the worst punishment of all !" 
 
 The intensity of her face, the piercing earnestness of her 
 voice and words, struck me dumb. It came to my ear like 
 the cry of a soul in agony, and I saw that I had here in- 
 deed blasphemously tampered with a soul's immortal inter-
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 413 
 
 ests. The selfish logic by which I had endeavored to per- 
 suade her fell into dust before the simple protest of hei 
 heart. I was too unskilled in the tactics of vice to renew 
 the attack, even had I been unprincipled enough to desire 
 it But, in truth, I stood humiliated before her, sensible 
 only of the fact that she would never more respect me. I 
 had been an Angel to her artless fancy ; henceforth I should 
 be a Devil. 
 
 She waited for an answer to her last question, and what 
 little comfort there might be in my reply she should have. 
 
 " Jane," I said, " you are not accountable for what I have 
 been saying. You are far better than I am. I was honest 
 in trying to help you, this was not in my mind, but I 
 won't answer for myself any longer. You are right to be 
 afraid of me : I will go ! " 
 
 I turned as I said these words, and left the room. As 
 I flung the door behind me, I saw her standing by the win- 
 dow, with her eyes following me. I fancied, also, that I 
 heard her once more utter my name, but, even if it were 
 true, I was in no mood to prolong the interview. As I 
 opened the outer door hastily, I caught a glimpse of Mrs. 
 Feeny dodging into the room on the other side of the pas- 
 sage. 
 
 On my way down Sullivan Street I remembered that I 
 had done nothing towards relieving Mary Maloney of her 
 trouble. But I soon dismissed the subject from my mind, 
 resolved to let the two women settle it between themselves. 
 Once in my room, I wrote a venomous sketch for the next 
 number of the Oracle, and passed my evening, as usual, at 
 the Ichneumon. 
 
 Two days afterwards the bells reminded me that it was 
 Christmas morn ; I had forgotten the day. I threw open 
 my window, and listened to the musical clang, which came 
 to my ears, crisp and sweet, through the frosty air. Hav- 
 ing now more time at my disposal I Kad resumed my Ger- 
 man studies, and the lines of Faust returned to my mind,
 
 414 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 u Then seemed the breath of Heavenly Love to play 
 Upon my brow, in Sabbath silence holy ; 
 And filled with mystic presage, tolling slowly, 
 The church-bell boomed, and joy it was to pray." 
 
 Alas ! I had unlearned the habit, and the beautiful day of 
 Christian jubilee awoke but a dull reverberation in my 
 heart. A Merry Christmas ! Who would speak the words 
 to me, not as a hollow form, but as a heart-felt wish ? 
 
 There was a knock at my door. Mary Maloney entered 
 and gave me the festive salutation. It came as a response 
 to my thought, and touched my heart with a grateful soft- 
 ness. She carried a thin package in her hand, and said, 
 as she laid it on the table, 
 
 " I 've brought a Christmas for you to-day, Mr. Godfrey. 
 It 's Miss Jenny's doin', and I don't mind tellin' you now, 
 since she's left, that she sat up the biggest part of a night to 
 get it ready. You see, sir, when I brought home your wes- 
 kit, o' Wednesday, to fix the button, I said it would n't bear 
 much more wearin', and you ought, by rights, to git y'rself 
 a new one. With that she up and said she 'd like to make 
 one herself, as a Christmas for you, and might she kape it 
 and take the pattern. So she bought the stuff and hoped 
 you 'd like it, and indade it 's a nate piece o' wurrk, as you 
 may see." 
 
 I cast scarcely a glance at the waistcoat, so eager was I 
 to hear what had become of Jane Berry. But Mary either 
 could not, or would not, give me any satisfactory news. 
 
 " When I come home, t' other evenin'," she said, " I saw 
 she 'd been cryin', and I mistrusted you 'd been havin' a 
 talk with her, so I would n't add to her trouble by any 
 words o' my own. And that was the night she finished the 
 weskit. So next mornin' she went out airly and I did n't 
 see her till nigh noon, when she had her things ready to 
 laive. Says she, ' Mary, I 'm goin' away, but I sha' n't for- 
 git you ; ' and says I, ' Naither will I forgit you, and I wish 
 you hearty good luck, and where are you goin', for I expect
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 415 
 
 to see you between whiles ; ' -= but says she. ' It 's best you 
 don't come,' and ' I '11 always know where to find you,' and 
 so she went off. Sure my heart ached wi' the thought of 
 her, and it 's ached since, along o' Hugh. He won't be- 
 lieve I dunno where she is, and glowers at me like a wild 
 baste, and st'iys away o' nights, till I 'm fearful, when 
 there 's the laist noise in the house, it may be his blessed 
 body brought home on a board." 
 
 I noticed, now, the haggard, anxious expression of the 
 Irishwoman's face, and tried to encourage her with the as- 
 surance that Hugh was but a boy, and would soon forget 
 his disappointment. But she clasped her hands and 
 sighed, and there was a memory of Hugh's father in her 
 fixed eyes. 
 
 After she had left the room, I picked up and inspected 
 the present It was of plain, sober-colored material, but 
 very neatly and carefully made. I turned out the pockets 
 and examined the lining, hoping to find some note or to- 
 ken conveying a parting message. There was nothing, 
 and after a few inquiries, made to satisfy my remaining 
 fragment of a conscience, I gave up the search for Jane 
 Berry. 
 
 During the holiday week another incident occurred, 
 trifling in itself, but it excited a temporary interest in my 
 mind. I had possession of one of the Oracle's passes to 
 the Opera, and, at the close of the performance was slowly 
 surging out through the lobby, with the departing crowd, 
 when a familiar female voice, just in front of me, said, 
 
 " But you men are such flatterers, all of you." 
 
 "Present company excepted," replied another familiar 
 voice, with a coarse, silly laugh. 
 
 If the thick coils of black hair, dropping pomegranate 
 blossoms, had not revealed to me the lady, the flirt of a 
 scarlet fan over her olive shoulder made the recognition 
 sure. It was Miss Levi, of course, leaning on the arm of 
 could I believe my eyes? Mr. Tracy Floyd. I kep<
 
 416 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 as close to the pair as possible, without running the risk 
 of being recognized, and cocked my ear to entrap more of 
 their conversation. Eavesdropping in a crowd, I believe, 
 is not dishonorable. 
 
 u It is a pleasure to hear music, under the guidance of 
 such an exquisite taste as yours" remarked Miss Levi. 
 
 "Ah, you think I know something about it then ? " said 
 her companion. " Deuced glad to hear it ; Bell always 
 used to snub me, but a fellow may know as much as other 
 people, without trying to show off all the time." 
 
 " Certainly ; that is my idea of what a gentleman should 
 be, but how few such we meet ! " Her voice was low 
 and insinuating, and the pomegranate blossoms bent 
 towards his shoulder. I knew, as well as if I had stood 
 before them, that all the power of her eyes was thrown 
 upon his face. I could see the bit of his neck behind his 
 whisker grow red with pleasure, as he straightened his 
 head and stroked his moustache. 
 
 There was a puff of cold air from the outer door, and 
 she drew up the hood of her cloak. Somehow, it would 
 catch in the wilderness of hair and flowers, and his assist, 
 ance was required to adjust it to her head. Then they 
 scuttled into the street, in a high state of mutual good- 
 humor. 
 
 N it possible, I asked myself, that he has been caught in 
 the *rap he laid for me ? If so, I can afford to forgive him
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 417 
 
 CHAPTER XXXTTT. 
 
 WHICH SHOWS WHAT I BECAME 
 
 THE reader may suppose that the part of my history 
 most difficult to relate has already been written. If so, 
 he is mistaken. It is easier to speak of an evil impulse 
 which has been frustrated, than of a more venial fault which 
 has actually been committed. Nay, I will go further, and 
 state a fact which seems both inconsistent and unjust, 
 that the degree of our repentance for our sins is not meas- 
 ured by the extent to which they violate our own accepted 
 standard of morals. An act which springs from some sug- 
 gestion of cowardly meanness by which we may be sur- 
 prised, often troubles us far more than an act due to bold, 
 rampant, selfish appetite, though the consequences of the 
 latter may be, beyond comparison, more unfortunate to 
 ourselves and to others. There is in most men an abstract 
 idea of manhood, whether natural or conventional I will 
 not here discuss, which has its separate conscience, 
 generally, but not always, working side by side with the 
 religious principle. There are fortunate beings in whom 
 the circumstances of life have never separated these dis- 
 tinct elements, and such, alas ! will not understand me. 
 Perhaps the record I now set down against myself will 
 make the matter more intelligible. 
 
 My circle of associates having become gradually nar- 
 rowed down to Brandagee and his Oracular corps, with 
 a few other habitues of the Ichneumon, who were not 
 connected with the paper, Swansford being almost the 
 only old friend whom I cared to meet, my life naturally 
 27
 
 418 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 toOK on, more ana more, a reckless, vagabondizing char- 
 acter. The want of a basis of Faith, Patience, and Reso- 
 lution, expressed itself in the commonest details of daily 
 life. Mrs. De Peyster's respectable dinner company bored 
 me to death ; even the dishes wore the commonplace 
 aspect of wholesome, insipid propriety. My stomach, like 
 my brain, craved variety, piquancy, and excitement ; health 
 was a secondary consideration. I ceased to make any 
 computation of my earnings and to guage my expenses 
 accordingly. One day I would invite Brandagee or Smith- 
 ers to some restaurant with a foreign carte and a list of 
 cheap wines, and the next, perhaps, content myself with a 
 lunch of black bread, Limburg cheese, and lager-beer. So 
 long as I had company, the hours passed away rapidly, 
 and with a careless, rollicking sense of enjoyment, but I 
 shrank from being left face to face with the emptiness 
 of my life. 
 
 With regard to my support, I was sufficiently assured. 
 The ten weekly dollars of G. Jenks were punctually forth- 
 coming, since the taste for scrappy, make-believe philoso- 
 phy had not yet abated, and I also took to writing bilious, 
 semi-mysterious stories, after the manner of Hoffman. 
 The prospects of the Oracle were variable for the first 
 few weeks: it attracted enough attention to keep up our 
 hopes, and paid poorly enough to disappoint them. But, 
 in one way or another, my income averaged twenty-five 
 dollars a week, all of which went as fast as it came. 
 When there was a temporary falling-off, Miles was ready 
 enough to give me credit, an accommodation which I 
 found so convenient and used so freqxiently that there 
 soon came a day when the very slender hoard I had 
 spared was exhausted, and my bill for a fortnight's board 
 in Bleecker Street still unpaid. 
 
 The evening on which I made this discovery, there hap- 
 pened to be an unusually large and jovial party in the 
 Cave. I was in little humor for festivity : the recollection
 
 JOHX GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 419 
 
 of Mrs. De Peyster's keen, suspicious glance, as she passed 
 me on the stairs that afternoon, made me feel very uncom- 
 fortable, and I resolved to deny myself some indulgences 
 which had grown to be almost indispensable, rather than 
 encounter it a second time. Hitherto I had played some- 
 thing of an ostentatious part among my comrades, had 
 been congratulated on the evidences of my success, and 
 it was hard to confess that the part was now played out, 
 and the sham velvet and tinsel spangles laid aside. I slunk 
 into a corner and tried to appear occupied with a news- 
 paper ; but it was not long before Brandagee scented my 
 depression. 
 
 " Hallo, Godfrey, what 's the matter ? " he cried, slap- 
 ping me on the shoulder. "Ha! do I read the signs 
 aright? Thou hast met the Dweller of the Threshold !" 
 
 I did not care to bandy burlesque expressions with him, 
 and was too listless to defend myself from his probing eye ; 
 so I took him aside and told him my difficulty. 
 
 " Pshaw ! " said he, " you are too innocent for this world. 
 If I had the money I 'd lend it to you at once, since you 're 
 so eager to feed the vultures ; but I had the devil's own 
 luck at vingt-et-un last night Go to Jenks or Babcock, 
 and get an advance ; it 's what every fellow is forced to do 
 sometimes. Meanwhile, Miles will chalk your back for all 
 you want to-night Come, don't spoil the fun : that idea 
 we developed last week was worth a hundred dollars, Bab- 
 cock says. Two or three more such, and the Oracle is a 
 made paper." 
 
 The " idea " of which he spoke was neither more nor 
 less than a minute description of the costumes of various 
 ladies at a grand private ball in Fifth Avenue, to which 
 Brandagee had procured an invitation. It was written 
 with a great apparent familiarity with the subject, and a 
 reference to the dresses of the ladies of the Parisian 
 noblesse, in a style breathing at once flattery and admo- 
 nition. u You have done very well, this tune," it seemed
 
 420 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 to say, " but take care, I know all about it, and am on 
 the look out for mistakes." Its publication was followed 
 by greatly increased orders for The Oracle from up-town 
 bookstores and newspaper stands. The musical criticism^ 
 though much more cleverly done, failed to make anything 
 like an equal sensation. 
 
 I succumbed to Brandagee's mingled raillery and per- 
 suasion, and entered my name on Miles's books. The 
 circle joyfully opened to receive me, and in five minutes 
 
 so powerful is the magnetism of such company no 
 one was gayer and more reckless than I. We fell into 
 discussing new devices for attracting attention to the paper, 
 
 some serious, some ironical, but all more or less shrewd 
 and humorous. In fact, I have often thought, since those 
 days, that a keen, wide-awake, practical man might have 
 found, almost any evening, the germ of a successful enter- 
 prise among the random suggestions and speculations 
 which we threw together. 
 
 " One thing is wanting yet," said Smithers, " and I 'm 
 a little surprised that it has n't occurred to you, Bran- 
 dagee." 
 
 " Speak, Behemoth ! " exclaimed the latter. 
 
 " Abuse. Not in a general way, but personal. Take 
 some well-known individual, merchant, author, artist, pol- 
 itician, it makes no difference, and prick him deep 
 enough to make him cry out. His enemies will all want 
 to read the attack, in order to enjoy it, and his friends, out 
 of a sympathetic curiosity. Men are made fools through 
 the morbid sensitiveness which follows culture ; their epi- 
 dermis is as thin as the lining of an egg-shell. Take 
 the sirong, working-classes with their tanned, leathery 
 hide " 
 
 " Stop, there ! " Brandagee interrupted. " I *ve got your 
 suggestion, and we can dispense with your 'longshoremen. 
 I have thought of the matter, but Babcock is fidgety. 
 One's pen must be split to a hair, in order to sting and
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 421 
 
 tickle just up to the edge of a personal assault or a libe" 
 suit, and not go over the line. I 'd like to see you try it, 
 Smithers, with a nib as broad as your foot. I rather thinb 
 you 'd have a chance of finding out the thickness of youi 
 epidermis." 
 
 Nevertheless, it was the general opinion that the propo- 
 sition was worth considering. Several individuals even 
 were suggested as appropriate subjects, but on Brandagee 
 hinting that the suggester should first try his hand, the 
 enthusiasm cooled very suddenly. Finally, it was decided 
 to hold the plan in reserve. 
 
 " But," said Brandagee, " we must fix on some expedient. 
 Heavens and earth ! is all our inventive talent exhausted ? 
 We might find a new poet, of wonderful promise, or a 
 pert female correspondent, with an alliterative horticultural 
 name, such as Helen Honeysuckle or Belinda Boneset, but 
 I don't know which of you could keep up the part suc- 
 cessfully, and my hands are full. Then we must have a 
 department of - Answers to Correspondents," at least two 
 columns long ; replies to imaginary queries on every sub- 
 ject under the Zodiac, love, medicine, history, eclipses, 
 cookery, Marie Stuart, and Billy Patterson. You fellows 
 might do that while you are loafing here. There is nothing 
 in the world easier to do, as for instance : ' Rosalie, If 
 the young gentleman, after picking up your pocket-hand- 
 kerchief, put it into his own pocket instead of returning 
 it to you, we should interpret the act as a sign of attach- 
 ment Should you desire a further test, ask him for it, 
 and if he blushes, he is yours.' " 
 
 This suggestion met with great applause. We all went 
 to work, and in the course of an hour concocted a number 
 of answers. The reporter of the Avenger, who was accus- 
 tomed to manufacture correspondence from various parts 
 of the world, was called upon to write letters from Boston 
 and Philadelphia, describing the sensation which the Oracle 
 had produced in those cities ; and by midnight, at which
 
 422 JOHN GODFBEY'S FOB.UNES. 
 
 hour the atmosphere of the Cave was usually opaque, and 
 the tongues of some of its occupants incoherent, \\e were 
 all assured of the speedy triumph of our scheme. 
 
 I woke late next morning to an uncomfortable sense of 
 my empty pockets. The excitement of the previous even- 
 ing was followed by a corresponding depression, and I had 
 no courage to face Mrs. De Peyster. I did not go down to 
 breakfast, but waited until I felt sure that she would be 
 occupied by the supervision of her household, and then 
 quietly slipped out of the house. 
 
 There was no alternative but to adopt Brandagee's hint 
 and solicit an advance from either Mr. Babcock or Mr. 
 Jenks. The former gentleman being the more cultivated 
 of the two, although I had had but little personal intercourse 
 with him, he received my first visit I proffered my re- 
 quest with a disgusting presentiment that it would be re- 
 fused, and the event proved that I was correct. It would 
 be a violation of his business-habits, he said : still, if I 
 were in immediate want of the sum, he might make an 
 exception, if Mr. Brandagee had not just obtained an ad- 
 vance of fifty dollars ! Since the paper could not yet be 
 considered firmly established, he did not feel himself justi- 
 fied in anticipating the outlay to any further extent. 
 
 I now wended my way to the office of Mr. Jenks, and, 
 knowing the man, put on a bolder face. It was not pleasant 
 to ask a favor of him, but I could offer him security in the 
 shape of articles ; it would be simply anticipating 1 he sums 
 which would afterwards be due. After a good deal of 
 hesitation, he consented, and I thus regained my good 
 standing with Mrs. De Peyster, by cutting off a part of 
 my future income. In the mean time, however, I had laid 
 the basis of a new account with Miles, and thus commenced 
 a see-saw of debt which kept me in continual agitation. 
 When I was up on one side, I was down on the other, and 
 each payment simply shifted my position. The disagreeable 
 novelty of the experience soon wore off, and the shifts and
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 423 
 
 inameuvres which at first were so repulsive became endur 
 able from habit When, after days of incessant worry 
 money came into my hands, I could not deny myself some 
 coveted indulgence as a compensation. The former justi 
 fied the latter, and the latter brought the former again into 
 play. 
 
 I became, after a time, subject to extreme fluctuations 
 of feeling. In moments of excitement I experienced an 
 exaltation of spirits, in which my difficulties and disappoint- 
 ments ceased to exist I was elevated above the judgment 
 of my fellow-men ; I had courage to kick aside the tram- 
 mels which inclosed them, and to taste a freedom which 
 they were incompetent to enjoy. This condition was a 
 substitute for happiness, which I mistook for the genuine 
 article ; I clung to it desperately when I felt the light fading 
 and the colors growing dull, and the gray, blank fog drop- 
 ping down from the sky. Then succeeded the state of 
 aimless apathy, when my days seemed weighted with a 
 weariness beyond my strength to bear. I could not fill the 
 void space in my heart, once glowing with the security of 
 Faith and the brightness of Love. I spread my coveted 
 sense of Freedom over the gulf, but it would not be hidden ; 
 I dropped into it every indulged delight of appetite, only 
 to hear a hollower clang. My principal satisfaction o 
 what seemed such was in the belief that other men 
 differed from myself only hi hypocrisy, outwardly ap- 
 pearing to obey laws they scoffed, and carefully concealing 
 their secret trespasses. 
 
 But little more than two months had elapsed before I 
 was forced into the conviction that my prospects were be- 
 coming precarious. The sales of the Oracle began to fall 
 off; the paper was diminished in size, in order to reduce 
 expenses, while professing (editorially) to be swimming 
 along on a flood-tide of success, and the remuneration for 
 my articles not only diminished in proportion, but was re- 
 luctantly paid. The final resource of personal abuse had
 
 424 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 been tried, and Brandagee must have been mistaken in the 
 fine quality of his pen. for the immediate result was a libel 
 suit, which so frightened Mr. Babcock that he insisted on 
 avoiding it by retraction and apology. I had enough of 
 experience to know that this was the death-knell of the 
 enterprise, and was not deceived (neither was Brandagee, 
 I think) by the galvanic imitation of life which remained. 
 
 About the same time my see-saw became so delicately 
 poised that I lost my balance. My debt to Mrs. De Pey- 
 ster had again accumulated ; her eyes were not only coldly 
 suspicious, but her tongue dropped hints which made me 
 both angry and ashamed. I determined to leave her house 
 as soon as it was possible to settle the account ; but it was 
 not possible, and, utterly unable to endure my situation, 
 I put a single shirt and my toilet articles into my pocket, 
 and leaving the rest of my effects behind, walked away. 
 There was a miserable attic, miserably furnished, in Crosby 
 Street not far from the Ichneumon, to be had for five dol- 
 lars a month, paid in advance. This was cheap enough, 
 provided I could raise the five dollars. I remembered my 
 loan of that amount to Brandagee, and asked him to return 
 it 
 
 " My dear fellow," said he, " I thought you understood 
 that I never pay a loan. It would be ridiculous to contra- 
 dict my principles in that way." 
 
 " Then," said I, " lend me the same amount" 
 
 " Ah, you put the matter in a more sensible form. I '11 
 lend you five, or five hundred, as soon as I get it ; but be- 
 hold ! " 
 
 He turned his pockets inside out 
 
 I plainly told him what I had done, and that I was now 
 without a penny to buy a meal or pay for a lodging. 
 
 " That 's rather a bore," said he, coolly, k ' the first time 
 you try it but one gets used to it like anything else. 
 It 's a seasoning that will do you no harm, Godfrey ; I 've 
 been ground in that mill a dozen times, I presume. P
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 426 
 
 rould amuse you to hear of some of the dodges I 've been 
 ip to. Did I ever tell you about that time in Rome ? " 
 
 I would not stop to hear his story, but left in a high state 
 of exasperation. There remained one friend, who would 
 help me if he could, though he straitened himself thereby. 
 
 had not seen him for some weeks, and felt, I am glad to 
 say, a good deal of shame at seeking him now only to make 
 use of him. I hurried across to Hester Street, and was 
 bout to ring the bell at Mrs. Very's door when it opened 
 and he came out. I was shocked to see how his eyes had 
 sunk and how hollow and transparent his cheeks had grown ; 
 but something of the old brightness returned when he saw 
 me, and his voice had the old tone as he said, 
 
 " I was afraid you had forgotten me, Godfrey." 
 
 " I have only been busy, Swansford, but I mean to make 
 up for my neglect You '11 think I take a strange way of 
 doing it to-day, when I tell you that I come for help." 
 
 " And you so much stronger than I ? " 
 
 " Not half so strong, Swansford. Here, in this pocket 
 over the heart, and in all the others, animation is suspended. 
 Can you lend me ten dollars for a day or two ? " 
 
 I had known of his more than once sending that amount 
 to his mother or sister, and supposed that he might have 
 it on hand. The delay of a day or two,_ until I should re- 
 pay him, would make little difference. 
 
 " I can," said he, after a moment's reflection, " but it will 
 take about all I have. However, I can get along for two 
 lays or three without it. I hope you have not been 
 unfortunate, Godfrey?" 
 
 Swansford had thought me wrong in giving up my situa- 
 tion in the Wonder office, and all my assurances of plentiful 
 earnings afterwards had not reconciled him to the step. 
 My present application seemed to justify bis doubt, and 
 this thought, I fancied, prompted his question. Not yet, 
 however, could I confess to him since I stubbornly re 
 oised to confess to myself the mistake I had made.
 
 426 JOHN GODFRErS FORTUNES. 
 
 u Oh, no," I said, assuming a gay, careless air. " I have 
 been lending, too, and find myself unexpectedly short In 
 a day or two I shall be all right again." 
 
 Dear old fellow how relieved he looked ! I tried to 
 persuade myself, for his sake, that I had spoken the truth ; 
 and, indeed, a little effort placed my condition in a much 
 less gloomy light. My expenses, I reasoned, would now be 
 reduced to the minimum ; half the sum would give me 
 lodging for a month, and the remaining half would supply 
 me with food for a fortnight, in which time I could earn, 
 not only enough to repay the loan but to relieve me from the 
 necessity of making another. It would be necessary, how- 
 ever, to give up my dissipated way of life, and this I virtu- 
 ously resolved to do for a few weeks. 
 
 Swansford was on his way to give a music-lesson in Rut- 
 gers Street, but first went back to his room to get the money. 
 I accompanied him, and could not help noticing how ex- 
 hausted he appeared after mounting the last flight of steps. 
 He dropped into a chair, panting ; then, seeing my anxious 
 look, said in a feeble voice, 
 
 " It 's nothing, Godfrey. I 've been working a little too 
 hard this winter. The symphony, you know, it 's nearly 
 finished, and 1 can't rest, now, until I 've written the last bar. 
 I wish I had time to play it to you." 
 
 " You shall let me have the whole of it, Swansford. 
 And I '11 bring Brandagee, who must write an article about 
 it. He is always on the lookout for something new, and no- 
 body better understands how to make a sensation. You '11 
 be a famous man before you 're six months older ! " 
 
 A quick, bright spark flashed from his eyes, but instantly 
 faded, leaving a faint, sad smile behind it. He sighed and 
 murmured to himself, " I don't know." Then he gave me 
 the money. I felt my hand trembling as I took it, but this 
 might have teen the faintness of hunger. I had eaten 
 nothing for twenty-four hours. 
 
 On reaching the Bowery, I went into the first cellar and
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 42J 
 
 strengthened myself with a beafsteak and a bottle of ale 
 Then I secured the attic for a month, purchased writing 
 materials and sat down with the firm resolution to complete 
 a sensational story before allowing myself a moment's pause, 
 except for sleep. It was a dark, raw day of early March ; 
 there was no fire in the shabby room, and the dull daylight 
 became almost dusk after passing through the unwashed 
 panes. I had no table, but the rickety wash-stand would 
 answer the purpose, and there was a single wooden chair. 
 The meat and drink had warmed me, and thus, with my 
 over-coat on my back, and the ragged bed-quilt, breaking 
 out in spots of cotton eruption, over my knees, I commenced 
 ihe work with a tolerable stock of courage. My subject 
 was of the ghastly order, and admitted of an extravagant 
 treatment, for which I was in the most congenial mood. 
 Page after page of manuscript was written and cast aside, 
 until the pen dropped from my benumbed fingers, and the 
 chill from my icy feet crept up my legs and sent shudders 
 through my body. 
 
 It was now dusk outside, and would soon be darkness 
 within. The sense of my forlorn, wretched condition re- 
 turned upon me, and the image of the Cave, with its com- 
 fortable warmth and its supply of mental and physical 
 stimulus, came to tempt me away. But no, for Swansford's 
 sake I would renounce even this indulgence. I would go 
 out and walk the streets, to thaw my frozen blood, and ar- 
 range, in my brain, the remainder of my task. 
 
 How long I walked I cannot tell. I have an impression 
 of having three times heard the wind sweeping through 
 the leafless trees on the Battery, and as often through the 
 trees in Union Square ; but my mind was so concentrated 
 upon the wild, morbid details of my story that they held it 
 fast when I had grown weary of the subject, and would 
 gladly have escaped it. Then I went to bed, to start and 
 toss all night in that excited condition which resembles de- 
 lirium rather than sleep, and leaves exhaustion instead of 
 refreshment behind it
 
 428 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 By noon the next day the task was completed, and I left 
 it in the hands of the editor of a popular magazine in 
 which a few of my sketches had already appeared. 1 
 should have to wait a day or two for his decision ; my 
 brain, fagged by the strain upon it, refused to suggest a 
 new theme, and yet my time was a blank which must be 
 somehow filled. The flame of my good resolution burned 
 lower and lower, gave a final convulsive flicker as I 
 passed the door of the Ichneumon, went out, and I 
 turned back and entered. Did I think of Swansford as 
 the door closed behind me ? Alas ! I fear not I only fe.lt 
 the warm atmosphere envelop me like a protecting mantle : 
 I only heard, in the jovial voices which welcomed my com- 
 ing, release from the loneliness I could no longer endure. 
 
 The season of late, bitter cold which followed seemed, 
 like a Nemesis, to drive me back upon my vagabond life, 
 and every other circumstance combined to fasten me in its 
 meshes. B} the time the editor had decided to accept my 
 story, the sum I received for it was balanced by Miles's bill. 
 He knew as well when there was money in my pocket as if 
 he had counted it, and a refusal to pay would have shut me 
 out from my only place of refuge. Jenks would no longer 
 advance upon my articles, but began to hint that they now 
 ceased to meet the popular taste. He thought of engaging 
 one of the comic writers, whose misspelled epistles were in 
 great demand, at a hundred dollars a week ; it would pay 
 better than ten for mine, there was too much " cut and 
 slash " in the latter. I saw what was coming. 
 
 Brandagee against whose avowed selfishness, backed 
 as it was by his powers of raillery, my indignation could 
 not maintain itself furnished me, now and then, with a 
 morsel of occupation. But what an occupation it was for 
 one who, three years before, had determined to write his 
 name among the laurelled bards ! I was to furnish poetic 
 advertisements for the manufacturer of a new dentifrice ! 
 Once the imagined brother of Irving, Bryant, atd Longfel-
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 42i> 
 
 low, I now found myself the rival of Napoleon B. Quigg 
 and Julia Carey Reinhardt ! I had reached, indeed, the 
 lowest pit of literature, but, no ! there is a crypt under 
 this, whose workers are unknown and whose works hide 
 themselves in " sealed envelopes." Let that be a comfort 
 to me! 
 
 I could not think of the manner in which I had sneaked 
 away from Mrs. De Peyster, and deceived Swansford, with- 
 out a pang of self-contempt. It has cost me no little effort 
 to record my own humiliation, but I dare not mutilate the 
 story of my fortunes. If the pure, unselfish aspirations of 
 my early youth had been allowed to realize themselves in 
 one smooth, unchecked flow of prosperity, I should have nc 
 srory to relate. In an artistic sense I am my own hero, 
 but, 
 
 " What I seem to myself, do you ask of me? 
 No hero, I confess. "
 
 430 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 IN WHICH I HEAR FOOTSTEPS. 
 
 IF the manner of life I have just described had <xxne 
 upon me naturally, through some radical deficiency of prin- 
 ciple, I should have carelessly and easily adapted myself to 
 it. I have known men who were always cheerful under 
 similar embarrassments, and who enjoyed as well as ad- 
 mired the adroitness of their expedients of relief. Such are 
 the true Zingari of a high civilization, who pitch the tent, 
 light the camp-fire, and plunder the hen-roost, in the midst 
 of great cities. They are born with the brown blood in 
 their veins, and are drawn together by its lawless instinct 
 
 I, however, had been pushed out of that sphere of order 
 in which my nature properly belonged, partly by the shock 
 of cruel disappointments and partly by the revolt of appe- 
 tites common to every young man whose blood is warm and 
 whose imagination is lively. When the keen edge of the 
 former and the rampant exultation of the latter began to 
 be dulled, there was no satisfaction left to me, except in 
 forgetfulness of my former self. I heard, from time to time, 
 the whispers of duty and the groans of conscience, and felt 
 that if the two antagonistic powers within me were allowed 
 to come together in a fresh struggle, the result would be 
 Despair. With my present knowledge I see that such a 
 struggle was inevitable, that a crisis was embraced in the 
 very nature of my disease, but then I only craved peace, 
 and eagerly swallowed every moral narcotic which promised 
 to bring it 
 
 There were already symptoms of Spring, when my montk
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 481 
 
 in the attic drew to an end. Days of perfect sunshine and 
 delicious air fell upon the city, mellowing its roaring noises 
 softening into lilac and violet the red vistas of its streets, 
 touching its marbles with golden gleams, and coaxing the 
 quick emerald of the grass to its scattered squares. Most 
 unhappy were such days to me, for the tender prophecies 
 of the season forced my thoughts to the future, and into 
 that blank I could not look without dismay. 
 
 By this time my condition was indeed wretched. My 
 single suit of clothes grew shabby from constant wear, and 
 my two shirts, even with the aid of paper-collars, failed to 
 meet the requirements of decency. I had previously been 
 scrupulously neat in my dress, but now I was more than 
 slovenly, and I saw the reflection of this change in the 
 manners of my associates. My degradation expressed it- 
 self in my garments, and covered me from head to foot, 
 touching the surface of my nature in every point as they 
 touched my skin. 
 
 For another month's rent of my lodging I depended on 
 the six dollars which I was to receive for three poems in- 
 spired by the new dentrifice. The arrangement with the 
 proprietor of this article had been made by Brandagee, who 
 stated that he had a contract for furnishing the literature. 
 He took to himself some credit for allowing me a portion 
 of the work. I was anxious to meet him before evening, 
 as Miles had a bill of some two dollars against me, and the 
 most important debt must be first paid ; but I visited all 
 of Brandagee's usual haunts in vain. Tired at last, and 
 quite desperate, I betook myself to the Cave and awaited 
 his coming. 
 
 Any combination of circumstances which one specially 
 fears, is almost sure to occur. My account at the Ichneu- 
 mon was settled, as I had anticipated, and there was not 
 enough left for the advance on my lodgings. Brandagee 
 was in an ill-humor, and paid no attention to my excited 
 representations of my condition.
 
 432 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 " I tell you what, Godfrey ! " he exclaimed ; " it 's ridicu 
 lous to make a fuss about such trifles when one of the 
 best-planned schemes ever set a-foot is frustrated. Do 
 you know that the Oracle is laid out, stark and stiff? The 
 next number will be the last, and I 've a mind to leave one 
 side blank, as a decent shroud to spread over its corpse. 
 Babcock swears he 's sunk three thousand dollars, as if a 
 paper must n't always sink five in the beginning to gain 
 twenty-five in the end ! If he had kept it up one year, as 
 I insisted upon his doing, it would have proved a fortune 
 for him and all of us." 
 
 I was not surprised at this announcement, nor was I par- 
 ticularly grieved, since the emoluments promised to me at 
 the start had never been forthcoming. After a few pota- 
 tions, Brandagee recovered his spirits, and made merry 
 over the demise of his great scheme. He proposed sub- 
 stituting the title of " Catacombs " for the Cave of Tro- 
 phonius, and declared his intention of having a funeral 
 inscription placed over the chimney-piece. 
 
 " Du Moulin," he said, " you know him, the author 
 of ' La Fille EgareeJ always buried his unsuccessful 
 works in the family cemetery. I spent a week with him 
 once, at his chateau near Orleans, and he took me to see 
 the place. There they were in a row, mixed together, 
 the children of the brain and the children of the body 
 First Elise, a little daughter ; then ' Henriette,' a novel, 
 with ' still-born,' on the tombstone ; then his son Adolphe, 
 and then the tragedy of 'Memnon,' the failure of which 
 he ascribed to the jealousy of a rival author, so he had 
 inscribed on the stone, ' assassine ! ' But only one imper- 
 sonation of my plan dies with the Oracle, there must be 
 another avatar ! There is no reason under heaven why I 
 should not be as successful here as Fiorentino in Paris. I 
 shall have to adopt his tactics, work through the papers 
 already established instead of setting up a new one. I am 
 tolerably sure of the Monitor and the Avenger, and I might
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 4#O 
 
 have the Wonder also, if you had not been such a fool as 
 to give up your place on it, Godfrey." 
 
 " It was your representations that led me to do it ! " I 
 angrily retorted. 
 
 " Come, come, don't charge me with your own greenness ! 
 If a fellow takes my assertions for his guide, he '11 have a 
 devilish zigzag to run. I suspect you 've been trying to 
 strike a diagonal between morality and enjoyment, and 
 have spoiled yourself for either. But it may be possible 
 to get back your place : I always thought Old Clarendor. 
 had a sort of patronizing liking for you." 
 
 I knew what Brandagee's object was, for what use he 
 designed me, and feared the consummate dexterity of his 
 tongue. There was something utterly repulsive to me in 
 the idea of going back and humiliating myself before Mr. 
 Clarendon, in order to insinuate articles intended to extort 
 black-mail, for Brandagee's "great" scheme meant noth- 
 ing else, into the columns of his paper. Yet, after what 
 had happened, I no longer felt sure of myself. 
 
 For the first time in my life, I deliberately resolved to 
 escape at once from my self-loathing and from this new 
 temptation, by the intoxication of wine. In all my previ- 
 ous indulgence, even when surrounded by a reckless and 
 joyously-excited company, I had never lost the control 
 of brain or body. Some protecting instinct either held me 
 back from excess, or neutralized its effects. I knew the 
 stages of exhilaration, of confidence, of tenderness, and of 
 boastful vanity, but further than those vestibules, I had 
 never entered the House of Circe. 
 
 I ordered a bottle of Sauterne my favorite wine 
 and began to drink. I fancy Brandagee guessed the secret 
 of this movement, and believed that it would deliver me 
 the more easily into his hands. But I cannot be sure ; my 
 recollection of the commencement of the evening is made 
 indistinct by the event with which it closed. There were, 
 at first, two other persons present, Mears and one of the 
 28
 
 484 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 comic writers, and I do not know precisely at what houi 
 they left, but I know that Brandagee waited until then to 
 commence his attack. 
 
 I finished one bottle and was half-way down the second 
 before I felt any positive effect from the beverage. Then, 
 although my feet and hands glowed, and the humming of 
 the quickened blood in my veins was audible in my ears, 
 my mind seemed to brood, undisturbed and stern, above 
 the tumult The delicate flavor of the wine faded on my 
 palate ; a numbness, resembling a partial paralysis, crept 
 over my body, but in my brain the atmosphere grew 
 more quiet, sober, and gloomy. The mysterious telegraph 
 which carries the commands of the will to the obedient 
 muscles seemed to be out of order, I had lost, not the 
 power, but the knowledge of using it. I sat like the En- 
 chanted Prince, half marble, and my remaining senses 
 grew keener from their compression. My mental vision 
 turned inwards and was fixed upon myself with wonderful 
 sharpness and power. Brandagee commenced his prom- 
 ises and persuasions, deceived by my silence, and not 
 dreaming how little I heeded them. I heard his voice, 
 thrust far away by the intentness of my thoughts, and 
 nodded or assented mechanically from time to time. To 
 talk much less discuss the matter with him was im- 
 possible. 
 
 I was in a condition resembling catalepsy rather than 
 intoxication. While perfectly aware of external sounds 
 and sights, I was apparently dead to them in that luminous 
 revelation of my own nature which I was forced to read. 
 I saw myself as some serene-eyed angel might have seen, 
 with every white virtue balanced by its shadowed vice, 
 every deviation from the straight, manly line of life laid 
 bare in a blaze of light, I recognized what a part vanity 
 had played in my fortunes, with what cowardice I had 
 shrunk from unwelcome truths, instead of endeavoring to 
 assimilate their tonic bitterness, and, above all, how con-
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 435 
 
 teinptible had been the results of indulgence compared 
 with the joyous release I had anticipated. It was a pas- 
 sionless, objective survey, which overlooked even the fluc- 
 tuations of my feelings, and curiously probed the very 
 wounds it gave. 
 
 I saw, further, that I had been miserably weak in allow- 
 ing three circumstances important as was their bearing 
 on my happiness to derange the ordered course of my 
 life, and plunge me into ruin. For a youth whose only- 
 gifts were a loving heart, a sanguine temperament, and an 
 easy, fluent power of expression, I had not been unsuccess 
 ful. I rather wondered now, perceiving my early igno 
 ranee, that so few obstacles had been thrown in my way 
 I supposed that I had performed marvels of energy, but 
 here I had failed in the first test of my strength as a man. 
 If Isabel Haworth had unjustly repulsed me, I had since 
 then justified her act a hundred times. Fool and coward, 
 aspiring to be author, lover, man ; yet flinging aside, at 
 the start, that patience without which either title is impos- 
 sible ! 
 
 I saw clearly, I say, what I had become but my clair- 
 voyance went no further. There was the void space whence 
 I had torn my belief in human honesty and affection, and 
 close beside it that more awful chamber, once bright with 
 undoubting reliance on The Father and His Wisdom, but 
 now filled with a twilight which did not dare to become 
 darkness. How was I to restore these shattered faiths, and, 
 through them, my shattered life? This was the question 
 which still mocked me. It seemed that I was condemned 
 vo behold myself forever in a mirror the painful brightness 
 of which blinded me to everything else. 
 
 I had placed my elbows on the table and rested my face 
 on my hands while undergoing this experience. It was 
 late in the night. I had ceased to hear Brandagee's voice, 
 or even to think of it, when, little by little, its tones, in con 
 versation with some one else, forced themselves upon mj 
 ear.
 
 436 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 " I tell you it 's trying to shirk your agreement," he said, 
 * when I 've done my part I 've almost made your fortune 
 already." 
 
 " Not as I knows on, you ha 'n't ! " replied another voice, 
 which I recognized as belonging to Miles. " It 'ardly pays 
 me. Leastways the profits on the gents you brings 'ere 
 don't begin to pay for your drinks any longer. It won't do, 
 Mr. Brandagee." 
 
 " Why, this one here has put six dollars into your pocket 
 to-night" 
 
 " Can't 'e 'ear you ? " whispered Miles. 
 
 " No : he 's drunk as a loon. Godfrey ! " 
 
 He called in a low tone, then louder, " Godfrey ! " 1 
 do not believe I could have answered, if I had tried. My 
 jaws were locked. 
 
 " They 'd spend more if you 'd pay 'em more," Miles con- 
 tinued. " I 'eard y'r bargain about the tooth-powder that 
 day Dr. What's-'is-name was 'ere five dollars apiece, it 
 was, and you gives 'im there two, and puts three in your 
 hown pocket Them three 'd be spent 'ere, if you hacted 
 fairly. Besides, it was n't understood that you were to 
 come and drink free, hevery day. I would n't ha' made 
 that sort of a bargain ; I knows 'ow much you can 'old." 
 
 Brandagee laughed and said, " Well, well, I shall not 
 come so often in future. Perhaps not at all. There 's a 
 good fellow going to open in Spring Street, and he thinks 
 of calling his place the Ornithorhyncus paradoxus, the 
 name you would n't have, Miles. If he does, it 's likely we 
 shall go there." 
 
 Miles hemmed and coughed ; he evidently disliked this 
 suggestion. " There goes the door," he said, " somebody 
 for the bar. Come out and we '11 'ave a brandy together 
 before you go." 
 
 The disclosure of Brandagee's meanness which I had 
 just heard scarcely excited a ripple of surprise or indig- 
 nation on the fixed, glassy surface of my consciousness
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 437 
 
 Wearied with the contemplation of my own failure, all mj 
 faculties united themselves in a desperate craving for help, 
 until this condition supplanted the former and grew to the 
 same intensity. 
 
 Presently Brandagee rose and went into the bar-room, 
 and I was left alone. In the silence my feeling became a 
 prayer. I struggled to find the trace of some path which 
 might lead me out of the evil labyrinth, but I could not 
 think or reason : it was blind, agonizing groping in the 
 dark. 
 
 Suddenly, I knew not how or where, a single point of 
 light shot out of the gloom. It revealed nothing, but I 
 trembled lest I was deceived by my own sensations, and 
 was beginning to hope in vain. Far away, somewhere 
 in remote space, it seemed, I heard the faint sound of a 
 footstep. I could count its regular fall, like the beating of 
 a slow, strong pulse ; I waited breathlessly, striving to hold 
 back the dull, rapid throb of my heart, lest I should lose 
 the sound. But the sense of light grew, spreading out in 
 soft radiations from the starry point, and, as it grew, the 
 sound of the footsteps seemed to draw nearer. A strange 
 excitement possessed me. I lifted my head from my 
 hands, placed a hollow palm behind my ear, and threw 
 my whole soul into that single sense. Still I heard the 
 sound, distant, but clearly audible in its faintly ringing 
 beat, and clung to it as if its cessation were the beginning 
 of deeper disgrace, and its approach that of a regenerated 
 life! 
 
 It could not have been two minutes but an age of sus 
 pense was compressed into the brief period while I thus 
 sat and listened. A voice within me cried out, " It is for 
 me ! Do not let it pass, rise and go to meet it ! " My 
 marble enchantment was broken ; I sprang to my feet, 
 seized my hat, and hastened out of the. Cave. Miles and 
 Brandagee, with each a steaming glass in hand, were 
 lounging against the bar. The latter called to me as I
 
 438 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 passed, but I paid no heed to him. Both of them laughed 
 as the street-door closed behind me. 
 
 It was a cool, windless, starry night. The bells were 
 striking midnight, and I set my teeth and clenched my fists 
 with impatience for the vibration of the last stroke to cease 
 that I might listen again for the footstep One such sound, 
 hideed, I heard between the strokes, a man coming down 
 ihe opposite side of the street, but it was not the step I 
 awaited : it was too light and quick. When he had gone 
 by and only the confused sounds of the night, far or near, 
 stirred the air, I caught again the familiar footfall. It 
 appeared to be approaching Crosby Street from Broadway, 
 through the next cross-street below. I was sure it was 
 the same : there was no mistaking the strong, slow, even 
 march, slightly ringing on the flagged sidewalk. What 
 would it bring to me ? 
 
 Nearer and nearer, but I could not advance to meet 
 it. I waited, with fast-beating heart, under the lamp, and 
 counted every step until I felt that the next one would 
 bring the man into view. It came, he was there! He 
 made two steps forward, as if intending to keep the cross- 
 street, paused, and presently turned up the sidewalk 
 towards me. My eyes devoured his figure, but there was 
 nothing about it which I recognized. A strong, broad- 
 shouldered man, moderately tall, with his head bent for- 
 ward as if in meditation, and his pace as regular as the tick 
 of a watch. Once he lifted his head and looked towards 
 me, and I saw the outline of a bushy whisker on each side 
 of his face. 
 
 In three seconds more he would pass me. I stood mo- 
 tionless, in the middle of the sidewalk, awaiting his coming. 
 One step, two, three, and he was upon me. He cast 
 a quick glance towards me, swerved a little from his 
 straight course, and strode past. " Fool ! fool ! " I cried to 
 myself, bitterly. As I did so, the footstep paused. I 
 turned and saw him also turn and step rapidly back
 
 JOHN" GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 489 
 
 towards me. His head was lifted and he looked keenl) 
 and curiously into my face. 
 
 Why, John John Godfrey, is it you ? " 
 
 He had me by both hands before the words were out of 
 his mouth. One clear view of that broad, homely, manlj 
 face in the lamplight, and I cried, in a voice full of joy and 
 tears, 
 
 " Bob Simmons ! Dear old friend, God has sent you to 
 save me ! " 
 
 Bob Simmons, my boyish comrade, whom I had almost 
 forgotten ! In the Providence which led him to me at that 
 hour and in that crisis of my fortunes, my fears of a blind 
 Chance, or a baleful, pursuing Fate, were struck down for- 
 ever. Light came back to the dusky chamber of my heart, 
 and substance to the void space. I prefer not to think that 
 my restoration to health was already assured by the previ- 
 ous struggle through which my mind had passed, that 
 from the clearer comprehension of myself, I should have 
 worked up again by some other path. It is pleasant to 
 remember that the hand of a brother-man lent its strength 
 to mine, and to believe that it was the chosen instrument 
 of my redemption from evil ways. 
 
 My excited, almost hysterical condition was incompre- 
 hensible to Bob. I saw the gladness in his eyes change to 
 wonder and tender sympathy. The next instant I thought. 
 he must see the debasement which was written all over me. 
 
 " Bob," I said, " don't leave me, now that I have found 
 you again ! " There was a noise of footsteps in the bar- 
 room of the Ichneumon : Brandagee was coming. Still 
 holding the hand of my friend, I hurried him up the street. 
 
 " Where do you live, John ? " he asked. 
 
 " Nowhere ! I am a vagabond. Oh, Bob, you carried me 
 once in your arms when I fell out of the apple-tree ; give 
 me your hand, at least, now, when I need your help sc 
 much more than then ! " 
 
 Bob said nothing, but his hard fingers crushed mine ip
 
 440 JOHtf GODFREY'S FORTUNES 
 
 a long grasp. Then he took my arm, and resuming his 
 steady stride, bore me with him through Prince Street into 
 the Bowery, and a long distance down Stanton Street 
 Finally he stopped before a house, one of a cheaply- 
 built, uniform block, opened the door with a night-key, 
 and drew me after him. After some dark groping up stair- 
 cases, I found myself in a rear room. He found a match, 
 lighted a candle, and I saw a small, modest apartment, 
 befitting, in its simple appointments, the habits of a labor- 
 ing man, but really luxurious in contrast to the shabby attic 
 in "which I had been housed. 
 
 " There ! " he exclaimed, k< these is my quarters, sich as 
 they am None too big, but you 're welcome to your share 
 of 'em. It 's a long time, John, since you and me slept 
 together at th' old farm. Both of us is changed, but I 'd 
 ha' knowed you anywheres." 
 
 u It is a long time, Bob. I wish I could go back to it 
 again. Do you recollect what you said to me when we 
 were boys, just thinking of making our start in the world ? 
 It was my head against your hands ; look, now, to what my 
 head has brought me ! " 
 
 O 
 
 Partly from shame and self-pity, partly also from the 
 delayed effect of the wine I had drunk, I burst into tears. 
 Poor Bob was inexpressibly grieved. He drew me to the 
 little bed, sat down beside me, put his arm around me, and 
 tried to comfort me in the way which first occurred to his 
 simple nature, by diminishing the force of the contrast 
 
 " Never mind, John," he said. " My hands ha'n't done 
 nothin' yit worth mentionin'. I a'n't boss, only foreman, 
 a sort o' head-journeyman, you know. There 's the stuff hi 
 you for a dozen men like me." 
 
 I laid my head upon his shoulder with the grateful sense 
 of reliance and protecting strength which. I imagine, must 
 be the bliss of a woman's heart when she first feels herself 
 clasped by the arms of the man she loves. Presently I 
 grew calm again, and commenced the confession of my life,
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 44J 
 
 which, from beginning to end, I was determined that Bob 
 should hear. But I had not made much progress in it, he 
 fore I felt that I was growing deathly faint and sick, ami 
 my words turned to moans of distress. 
 
 Bob poured some water on a towel and bathed my head 
 then helped me to undress and laid me in his bed. I re- 
 member only that, some time afterwards, he lay down beside 
 me ; that, thinking me asleep, he tenderly placed his hand 
 on my brow and smoothed back my ruffled hair ; that a 
 feeling of gratitude struck, like a soft, sweet pang, through 
 the sensation of my physical wretchedness, and then a 
 gray blank succeeded. 
 
 When I awoke, it was daylight. I turned on my pillow, 
 saw that Bob had gone and that the rolling curtain had 
 been drawn down before the window. My head was pierced 
 with a splitting pain ; my eyelids fell of their own accord, 
 and I sank again into a restless sleep. 
 
 It must have been afternoon when a light footstep aroused 
 me. There was a plain, pleasant-faced woman in the room, 
 who came forward to the bedside, at the movement I made. 
 
 " Where 's Bob ? " I asked. 
 
 " He went off early to his work, sir. But you 're to keep 
 still and rest ; he '11 be back betimes, this evenin.' And I 
 've a cup o' tea ready for you, and a bit o' toast." 
 
 She brought them, placed them on a stand by the bed- 
 side, and left the room. I was still weak and feverish, but 
 the refreshment did me good, and my sleep, after that, was 
 lighter and more healthful. It was a new, delicious sensa- 
 tion, to feel that there was somebody in the world who 
 cared for me. 
 
 It was nearly dark when Bob came softly into the room. 
 I stretched out my hand towards him, and the honest fellow 
 was visibly embarrassed by the look of gratitude and love 
 T fixed on his face. 
 
 " Y m 're comin' round, finely ! " he cried, in a cheery 
 voice. " I would n't ha' left you, at all, John, hut for the
 
 442 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 work dependin' on me ; it 's that big buildin' down in Cort 
 landt Street, right-hand side. But to-morrow 's Sunday, 
 as good luck will have it, and so we can spend the whole 
 day together." 
 
 Bob brought me some more tea, and would have gone 
 out for oysters, " patridges," and various other delicacies 
 which he suggested, if I had allowed him. His presence, 
 however, was what I most craved. After the morbid in- 
 tellectual atmosphere I had breathed for the last few months, 
 there was something as fresh and bracing as mountain 
 breezes in the simple, rude commingling of purely moral 
 and physical elements in his nature. The course of his 
 life was set, from his very birth, and rolled straight forward, 
 untroubled by painful self-questioning. If a temptation 
 assailed him, he might possibly yield to it for a moment, 
 but the next he would recover his balance. An influence 
 of order flowed from him into me, and my views of life 
 began to arrange themselves in accordance with it. 
 
 He was boarding, he informed me, with a married fellow- 
 workman, whose wife it was that I had seen. He had been 
 in New York since the previous autumn ; it was the best 
 place for his trade and he intended remaining. The day 
 before one of the journeymen had been married ; there 
 was a family party at the bride's home, in Jersey City ; he 
 had been invited, and was on his way back when he met 
 me in Crosby Street. 
 
 " Did you think of me ? " I asked. " Had you a pre- 
 sentiment that you would meet an old friend ? " 
 
 " Not a bit of it. I was thinkin' of well, no matter. 
 I no more expected to come across you, John, than than 
 Adam. But I 'rr real glad it turned out so."
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 443 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 IN WHICH I HEED GOOD ADVICE, MAKE A DISCOVERT, 
 AND RETURN TO MRS. VERT. 
 
 THE Sunday which followed was the happiest day I had 
 known for many months. I awoke with a clear head and 
 a strong sense of hunger in my stomach, and after making 
 myself as presentable as my worn and dusty garments would 
 allow, went down with Bob to breakfast with the workman 
 and his wife. The good people received me civilly, and 
 asked no embarrassing questions. Bob, I surmised, had 
 explained to them my appearance in his own way. So, 
 when the meal was over, he remarked, 
 
 " I guess I sha'n't go to church to-day. You won't want 
 to go out. John, and I '11 keep you company." 
 
 I should gladly have accompanied him, humbled and 
 penitent, to give thanks for the change in my fortunes, un- 
 certain though it still was, but for the fear that my appear- 
 ance, so little like that of a decent worshipper, would draw 
 attention to me. For Bob's sake I stayed at home, and he 
 for mine. 
 
 The time was well-spent, nevertheless. Confession is a 
 luxury, when one is assured beforehand of the sympathy 
 of the priest, and his final absolution. In the little back 
 bedroom, Bob sitting with his pipe at the open window, 1 
 told him my story, from the day I had last seen him on the 
 scaffold in Honeybrook, to the meeting of two nights be- 
 fore. T could not explain to him the bearing of my intel- 
 lectual aims on the events of my life : he would not have 
 understood it But the episodes of my love touched our
 
 144 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 common nature and would sufficiently account, in his view 
 for my late recklessness. I therefore confined myself tc 
 those and to such other facts as I supposed he would easily 
 grasp, since he must judge me, mainly, by external circum- 
 stances. 
 
 When I had finished, I turned towards him and said, 
 * And now, Bob, what do you think of me ? " 
 
 " Jest what I always did. There 's nothin' you Ve done 
 that one of us hard-fisted fellows might n't do every day, 
 and think no more about it, onless it 's cuttin' stick with- 
 out settlin' for your board, and borrowin' from a needy 
 friend when you have n't the means o' payin' him. But you 
 did n't know that when you borrowed, I '11 take my oath 
 on it. Your feelin's always was o' the fine, delicate kind. 
 mine 's sort o' coarse-grained alongside of 'em, and it 
 seems to me you 've worried yourself down lower than 
 you 'd had any need to ha' gone. When a man thinks he 's 
 done for, and it 's all day with him, he '11 step into the fire 
 when he might just as easy step out of it. I s'pose, though, 
 there 's more expected of a man, the more brains he has, 
 and the higher he stands before the world. I might swear 
 in moderation, for instance, and no great harm, while a 
 minister would be damned if he was to say ' damned ' any- 
 wheres but in his pulpit." 
 
 " But you see, Bob, how I have degraded myself! " 
 
 " Yes, I don't wonder you feel so. Puttin' myself in 
 your place, I can understand it, and 't would n't be- the 
 right thing, s'posin' the case was mine. The fact is, John, 
 we 've each one of us got to take our share of the hard 
 knocks. There 's a sayin' among us that a man 's got to 
 have a brickbat fall on his head once't in his life. Well 
 when you know it 's the rule, you may as well grin and 
 bear it, like any other man. I know it comes hard, once't 
 in a while Lord God, seme things is hard ! " 
 
 Bob pronounced these last words with an energy that 
 startled me His pipe snapped in his fingers, and falling
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 445 
 
 on the floor, was broken into a dozen pieces. " Blast the 
 pipe ! " he exclaimed, kicking them into a corner. Then 
 he arose, filled a fresh pipe, lighted it, and quietly resumed 
 his seat 
 
 " What would you do now," I asked, " if you were in my 
 place ? " 
 
 " Forgit what can't be helped, and take a fresh start. 
 Let them fellows alone you 've been with. That Bran- 
 dagee must be as sharp as a razor ; I can see you 're no 
 match for him. You seem to ha' been doin' well enough, 
 until you let him lead you ; why not go back to the rest of 
 it, leavin' him out o' the bargain ? That editor now, Clar- 
 endon, I 'd go straight to him, and if I had to eat a 
 mouthful or so o' humble pie, why, it 's of my own bakin' ! " 
 
 I reflected a few minutes and found that Bob was right. 
 Of all men whom I knew, and who were likely to aid me, 
 I had the greatest respect for Mr. Clarendon, and could 
 approach him with the least humiliation. I decided to make 
 the attempt, and told Bob so. 
 
 " That 's right," said he. " And I tell you what, it 'a 
 the rule o' life that you don't git good-luck in one way 
 without payin' for it in another. I 've found that out, to 
 my cost And the Bible is right, that the straight road and 
 the narrow one is the best, though it 's hard to the feet. 
 The narrower the road, the less a man staggers in it. You 
 seem, oftentimes, to be doin' your duty for nothin', worse 
 than that, gettin' knocks for doin' it, but it 's my belief 
 that you '11 find out the meanin', if you wait long enough. 
 There 's that girl down in Upper Samaria, you must ha' 
 been awfully cut up about her, and no wonder, but did n't 
 it turn out best, after all ? " 
 
 Bob's simple philosophy was amply adequate to my 
 needs. Without understanding my more complex experi- 
 ence of life, he offered me a sufficient basis to stand upon. 
 Perhaps the thought passed through my mind that it was 
 easy for his coarse, unimpressionable nature to keep the
 
 446 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES 
 
 straight path, and to butt aside, with one sturdy blow, the 
 open front of passions which approached me by a thousand 
 stealthy avenues. I doubted whether keen disappointment 
 positive suffering empowered him to speak with equal 
 authority ; but these surmises, even if true, could not 
 weaken the actual truth of his words. His natural, un- 
 conscious courage shamed out of sight the lofty energy 
 upon which I had prided myself. 
 
 I was surprised, also, at the practical instinct which en- 
 abled him to comprehend circumstances so different from 
 his own, and to judge of men from what I revealed of their 
 connection with my history. It occurred to me that tha 
 faculty of imagination, unless in its extreme potency, is a 
 hindrance rather than an aid to the study of human nature. 
 I felt assured that Bob would have correctly read the 
 characters of every one of my associates in one fourth of 
 the time which I had required. 
 
 It was arranged that I should make my call upon Mr. 
 Clarendon the very next day. Bob offered me one of his 
 shirts, and would have added his best coat, if there had 
 been any possibility of adapting its large outline to my 
 slender shoulders. He insisted that, whether or not my 
 application were successful, I should share his room until 
 I had made a little headway. I agreed, because I saw that 
 a refusal would have pained him. 
 
 I own that my sensations were not agreeable as I rang 
 the bell at Mr. Clarendon's door. It was necessary to hold 
 down my pride with a strong hand, a species of self- 
 control to which I had not latterly been accustomed. When 
 L found myself, a few minutes afterward, face to face with 
 the editor in his library, the quiet courtesy of his greeting 
 reassured me. It was not so difficult to make the plunge, 
 as I did, in the words, somewhat bitterly uttered, 
 
 " Another edition of the prodigal son, Mr. Clarendon." 
 
 lie smiled with a frank humor, in which there was no 
 trace of derision. " And you have come to me for the 
 fatted calf, I suppose ? " he said.
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 447 
 
 " Oh, a very lean one will satisfy me. Or a chicken, if 
 there is no calf on hand." 
 
 u You must have been feeding on husks with a ven- 
 geance, in that case, Mr. Godfrey. If I ask for your story 
 believe me it is not from intrusive curiosity." 
 
 I was sure of that, and very willingly confessed to him 
 all that it was necessary for him to know. In fact, he 
 seemed to know it in advance, and his face expressed neithei 
 surprise nor condemnation. His eyes seemed rather to 
 ask whether I was strong enough to keep aloof from those 
 excitements, and I gratefully responded to the considerate, 
 fatherly interest which prompted his questions. 
 
 The result of our interview was that I was reinstated in 
 my employment, in a somewhat lower position than for- 
 merly, it is true, and with a slightly diminished salary ; but 
 it was more than I had any reason to expect. Mr. Olaren 
 don made his kindness complete by offering me a loan for 
 my immediate necessities, which I declined in a burst of 
 self-denying resolution. I was sorry for it. upon reflecting, 
 after 1 had left the house, that Swansford might be suffer- 
 ing through my neglect, and my acceptance of the offer 
 would have enabled me to relieve him. 
 
 This reflection was so painful that I determined to draw 
 upon Bob's generosity for the money, and. until his return, 
 employed myself in commencing a magazine story, of a much 
 more cheerful and healthy tone than my recent productions. 
 Bob was later than usual, and his footstep, as he ascended 
 the stairs, was so slow and heavy that I hardly recognized 
 it. lie came bending into the room with a weight on his 
 shoulders, which proved to be the trunk I had left be- 
 hind me at Mrs. l)e 1'eyster's! 
 
 " 1 thought you might want it, John, so I jest come up 
 by way o" lileecker Street, and fetched it along," said he. 
 
 " But how did she happen to let you take it ? Oh, I see, 
 Bob, you have paid my debt ! " 
 
 "Yes; it's better you'd owe it to me than to her. J 
 know you '11 pay me back ag'iu. and she don't."
 
 448 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 Bob's view of the matter was so simple and natural that 
 I did not embarrass him with my thanks. But I could no' 
 now ask for a further loan, and poor ISwansford must wait 
 a few days longer. 
 
 While Bob was smoking his evening pipe, I told him of 
 the fortunate result of my visit to Mr. Clarendon. 
 
 " I knowed it," was his quiet comment. " Now we '11 
 lake a fresh start, John, your head aginst my hands. 
 One heat don't win, you know ; it 's the best two out o' 
 three." 
 
 " Then, Bob ! " I exclaimed, in a sudden effusion of pas- 
 sion, "I 've lost where I most wanted to win. What 
 are head and hands together beside the heart ! Bob, did 
 you ever love a woman ? " 
 
 " I 'm a man," he answered, in a stern voice. After a 
 few long whiffs, he drew his shirt-sleeve across his brow. 
 I am not sure but it touched his eyes. 
 
 " John," he began again, " there 's some thin' queer about 
 this matter o' love. I Ve thought, sometimes, that the 
 Devil is busy to keep the right men and women apart, and 
 bring the wrong ones together. It goes with the rest of us 
 as it's gone with you. When I told you that you must 
 grin and bear, t 'other night, I was n't preachin' what I 
 don't practise myself. There was a little girl I knowed, 
 last summer, over in Jersey, that I 'd ha' given my right 
 hand for. I thought, at one time, she liked me, but jest 
 when my hopes was best, she went off between two 
 days " 
 
 " What ? ! " I exclaimed. 
 
 " Took herself away, without sayin' good-bye to any- 
 body. Ha'n't been heard of from that day to this. Her 
 aunt bad a notion that she must ha' gone to New York, and 
 I first come here, as much as for anything else, hopin' I 
 might git on the track of her. I tell you, John, many 's 
 the night I Ve walked the streets, lookin' into the girls 
 faces, in mortal fear o' seem' hers among 'em. It may n'l
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 449 
 
 be so bad as that, you know, but a fellow can't help thinkin 
 the worst" 
 
 I was thunderstruck by the singular fancy which forced 
 itself into my mind. If it were true, should I mention it . 
 should I relieve the torture of doubt only by the worse 
 torture of reality? I looked at Bob's calm, sad, rugged 
 face, and saw there the marks of a strength which 1 might 
 trust ; but it was with a hesitating, trembling voice that 1 
 said, 
 
 " Did she live in Hackettstown, Bob ? " 
 
 He started, turned on me a pair of intense, shining eyes, 
 which flashed the answer to my question. The hungry in- 
 quiry of his face forced the name from my lips, 
 
 " Jane Berry." 
 
 k> Where is she, John ? What is she ? " 
 
 The questions were uttered under his breath, yet they 
 had the power of a cry. I saw the task I had brought upon 
 myself, and braced my heart for a pain almost as hard to 
 inflict as to endure. His eyes, fixed upon me, read the 
 struggle, and interpreted its cause. He groaned, and laid 
 his head upon the window-sill, but only for a moment. I 
 could guess the pang that rent his warm, brave, faithful 
 heart, and the tears he held back from his own eyes came 
 into mine. 
 
 Then, as rapidly as possible, for I saw his eagerness 
 and impatience, I told him how and where I had first 
 met Jane Berry, repeated to him her confession to me, ami 
 explained the mystery of her disappearance. I did not 
 even conceal that passage where I had shamefully put oil 
 the character of helper and essayed that of tempter, be- 
 cause there might be a sad consolation in this evidence that 
 her virtue, though wrecked, had not gone down forever 
 Though lost to him, she was not wholly lost to herself. 
 
 When I had finished, he drew a long breath and ex 
 claimed, in a low voice, " Thank God, I know all now 
 Poor foolish girl, she 's paid dear enough for her follj
 
 150 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 What ought to be done is past my knowledge, savin' this 
 one thing, that she must be found, must be, I say, and 
 you '11 help me, John ? " 
 
 " I will, Bob, here 's my hand on it Wt '11 go to 
 Mary Maloney at once." 
 
 In half an hour we were in Gooseberry Alley. It was 
 little the Irishwoman could tell, but that little was encour- 
 aging. She had seen Jane Berry but once since her de- 
 parture, and that, fortunately, within the past month. Jane 
 had come to her house, " quite brisk and chirrupin'," she said ; 
 had inquired for me. and seemed very much disappointed 
 that Mary was ignorant of my whereabouts ; said she had 
 been successful in getting work, that she was doing very 
 well, and would never forget how she had been helped ; but 
 did not give her address, nor say when she would return. 
 Mary confessed that she had not pressed her to repeat her 
 visit soon ; " you know the raison, Mr. Godfrey," she re- 
 marked. 
 
 The next day, I went with Bob to the Bowery establish- 
 ment where I had first procured work for the unfortunate 
 girl ; but neither there, nor at other places of the kind, 
 could we gain any information. Bob. however, at my re- 
 quest, wrote to her aunt in New Jersey, stating that he had 
 discovered that Jane was supporting herself by her trade, 
 and that he hoped soon to find her. I judged this step 
 might prepare the way for her return ; it was the only man- 
 ner in which we could help her now. I did not despair of 
 our finding her hiding-place, sooner or later. In fact, I ac- 
 cepted the task as an imperative duty, for 7 had driven her 
 away. Bob, also, was patient and hopeful ; he performed 
 his daily labor steadily, and never uttered a word of com- 
 plaint But he sighed wearily, and muttered in his sleep, 
 so long as I shared his bed. 
 
 Thanks to his forethought, I put on the feelings with the 
 garments of respectability. My return to the Wonder of- 
 fice was hailed with delimit by the honest Lettsom, and
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 45"i 
 
 even with mild pleasure by the melancholy Severn. Mj 
 mechanical tasks even became agreeable by contrast witl. 
 exhaustive straining after effect, or the production of those 
 advertising verses, which I never wrote without a sense oi 
 
 O ' 
 
 degradation. I was familiar with the routine of my duties. 
 and gave from the start as I had resolved to give sat- 
 isfaction. Mr. Clarendon, it appeared, had only intended 
 to test my sincerity in his new offer of terms ; for, at the 
 close of the week, I found myself established on the old 
 footing. 
 
 No sooner was the money in my pocket than I hastened 
 to Mrs. Very's, palpitating with impatience to make atone- 
 ment to Swansford. The servant-girl who answered the 
 door informed me, not only that he was in, but that he 
 never went out now. He had been very sick ; the doctor 
 would n't let him play on the piano, and it made him worse ; 
 so now he was at it from morning till night. 
 
 I heard the faint sounds of the instrument coming down 
 from the attic, as soon as I had entered the door. The 
 knowledge of him, sick, lonely, and probably in want of 
 money, sent a sharp pain to my heart. As I mounted the 
 last flight of steps, I distinguished his voice, apparent!} 
 trying passages of a strange, sad melody, repeating them 
 with slight variations, and accompanying them with sus- 
 taining chords which struck my ear like the strokes of a 
 muffled bell. 
 
 lie was so absorbed that he did not notice my entrance. 
 When I called out his name, he turned his head and looked 
 at me with a feeble, melancholy smile, without ceasing his 
 performance. I laid the money on one end of the piano, 
 and described my conduct in harsh terms, and begged his 
 forgiveness ; but still he played on, smiling and nodding 
 from Lime to time, as if to assure me that he heard and for- 
 gave, while the absorbed, mysterious gleam deepened in his 
 sunken eyes. I began to doubt whether he was aware of 
 my presence, when the muffled bells tolling under his fin
 
 452 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 gers seemed to recede into the distance, sinking into the 
 mist of golden hills, farther and fainter, until they died in 
 the silence of the falling sky. Then he turned to me and 
 spoke, 
 
 " Godfrey, was n't it Keats who said, ' I feel the daisies 
 already growing over me ' ? You heard those bells ; they 
 were tolling for me, or, rather, for that in me which laments 
 ihe closing of a useless life, a thwarted destiny. What is 
 there left to me now but to write my own dirge ? And 
 who is there to charge me with presumption if I flatter my 
 dreary departure from life by assigning to myself the fame 
 of which I dreamed ? Fame is but the echo of achieve- 
 ment, and I have sung into the empty space which sends no 
 echo back. Listen ! I celebrate myself I give the ' meed 
 of one melodious tear ' to my own grave ! No artist ever 
 passed away in such utter poverty as that, I think." 
 
 He commenced again, and after an introduction, in the 
 fitful breaks and dissonances of which I heard the brief ex- 
 pression of his life, fell into a sad, simple melody. There 
 were several stanzas, but I only remember the following : 
 
 " His golden harp is silent now, 
 And dust is on his laurelled brow: 
 His songs are hushed, his music fled, 
 And amaranth crowns his starry head : 
 
 Toll ! toll ! the minstrel 's dead ! " * 
 
 Twice he sang the dirge, as if there were a mad, desper- 
 ate enjoyment in the idea ; then, as the final chords flick- 
 ered and trembled off into the echoless space, his hands 
 slipped from the keys, and, with a long sigh, his head 
 dropped on his breast I caught him in my arms, and my 
 
 * In searching among my papers for some relic of poor Swansford, 1 cam 
 upon a crumpled leaf, upon one side of which is written, 
 
 " 3 shirts 18 
 
 5 handkerchiefs 10 
 3 pr. socks 9 
 
 ITcto."
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 458 
 
 heart stood still with the fear that his excitement had made 
 the song prophetic, and he was actually dead. I laid 'him 
 on the bed, loosened his collar, and bathed his brow. ar.d 
 after a few minutes he opened his eyes. 
 
 " Godfrey," he said, " it 's kind of you to come. You see 
 there is n't much left of me. You and I expected some- 
 thing else in the old days, but any change carries a hope 
 with it." 
 
 Regret or reproach on my part availed nothing. What 
 was still possible, I resolved to do. When Swansford had 
 somewhat recovered his strength, I left him and sought 
 Mrs. Very. That estimable and highly genteel woman 
 shed tears as she recounted the particulars of his illness, 
 and hailed as a godsend my proposal to return to my old 
 quarters now fortunately vacant in her house. I then 
 hastened to Stanton Street, packed my trunk^ and awaited 
 Bob's return. He had not a word to say against my plan, 
 and, moreover, offered his own help if it should be neces- 
 sary. 
 
 Thus I found myself back again at the starting-point of 
 three years before ; but, ah me ! the sentimental, eager. 
 inexperienced youth of that period seemed to be no relation 
 of mine. 
 
 while in pencil, on the opposite side, is the stanza I have quoted, with the 
 exception of the refrain, 
 
 dust Is on his Un - rolled brow : His songs an hashed, his 
 "T* * - -* 
 
 ma - ste fled, And amaranth crowns his star - tf
 
 464 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 WHICH BRINGS THE SYMPHONY TO AN END, BUT LEAVK8 
 ME WITH A HOPE. 
 
 MR. CLARENDON need not have feared that I might re- 
 lapse into evil habits ; every hour I could spare from my 
 duties was devoted to the service of my dying friend. Since 
 I had neglected and thoughtlessly injured him, I now re- 
 solved that no moment of his brief life should reproach me 
 after its close. He was too feeble to deny me this satisfac- 
 tion ; and I saw, with a mournful pleasure, that no other 
 hand was so welcome as mine, no other voice could so 
 quickly bring the light back into his fading eyes. Bob in- 
 sisted on relieving me, now and then, of my nightly watches, 
 and I was surprised, not only at the gentleness and tender- 
 ness of his ministrations, but at Swansford's grateful ac- 
 ceptance of them. It almost seemed as if the latter had 
 sent his Art in advance, into the coming life, and was con- 
 tent with human kindness and sympathy for the few days 
 of this which remained. 
 
 The seeds of his disease were no doubt born with him, 
 and their roots had become so intertwined with those of his 
 life that only a professional eye could distinguish between 
 the two. The impression left by my first visit was that he 
 could not live twenty-four hours, but weeks had come and 
 gone, and his condition fluctuated between the prospect 
 of speedy death and the delusive hope of final recovery. 
 There were times, even, when himself was deceived and 
 would talk cheerily of the future. Neither of us knew how 
 contradictory were these appearances, and that they should 
 have prepared us for the opposite results.
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 455 
 
 One evening in the beginning of May, when Swunsford's 
 weakness and depression had reached a point whence it 
 seemed impossible for him to nlly, he beckoned me to his 
 bedside. His voice was so faint that the words died away 
 in whispers, but his face was troubled, and I saw from the 
 expression of his eyes that he had a communication to make 
 I therefore administered a stimulating potion, and begged 
 him to remain quiet until he felt its effects. Presently he 
 was able to point to the upper drawer of his bureau, and 
 ask me to bring him a package I should find in the right- 
 hand corner. It was a heavy roll of paper, carefully tied 
 and sealed. I laid it beside him on the bed, and he felt 
 and fondled it with his white, wasted fingers. 
 
 " Here it is, Godfrey," he whispered, at last. " My sym- 
 phony ! I meant to have held it in my arms, in my coffin, 
 and let it go to dust with the heart and the brain which 
 created it ; but now it seems that my life is there, not here, 
 in my body. I might be killing something, you see, that 
 had a right to live. God knows : but there is another rea- 
 son. It belongs to her, Godfrey. Every iote is part of a 
 history which she alone can understand. Let her read it. 
 I honor her too much to speak or write to her while I live, 
 but there is no infidelity in her listening to the voice of the 
 dead. Keep it until you have buried me : then give it into 
 her hands." 
 
 " You have my sacred word, Swansford," I said ; " but 
 you must tell me who she is where I shall find her." 
 " It is written there, I think. But you know her." 
 I feared his mind was wandering. Taking the package 
 I held it to the light, and, after some search, discovered, 
 feebly written in pencil, the words : M rs. Fanny Deering, 
 from C. S." Of all the surprises of my Ufe, this seemed the 
 greatest. 
 
 u Swansford ! " I cried, " is it really she ? " 
 
 " Yes, Godfrey ; don't ask me anything more ! " 
 
 He closed his eyes, as if to enforce silence. After *
 
 456 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 while he seemed to sleep, and I leaned back in the rock 
 ing-chair which Mrs. Very had kindly provided for thf 
 watchers, busying my brain with speculations. I felt, more 
 deeply than ever, the tragic close of Swansford's disap- 
 pointed existence. She whom he had loved whom he 
 still loved with the despairing strength of a broken heart 
 who, I was sure, might silence, but could not forget the 
 early memories which linked her to him was here, within 
 an hour's call of the garret where he lay dying. He was 
 already within the sanctifying shadow of the grave, and the 
 word, the look of tender recognition which she might anti- 
 cipate beyond, could, in all honor and purity, be granted to 
 him now. I would go to her would beg her to see him 
 once more to give one permitted consecration of joy to 
 his sad remnant of life. I knew that he did not dream of 
 such an interview, probably did not desire it, and 
 therefore it was best to keep my design secret. 
 
 In the morning Swansford had rallied a little, but it was 
 evident that his life barely hung by a thread. I trembled 
 with anxiety during the day, as I performed those mechan- 
 ical tasks which were now more than ever necessary, for 
 his sake, and hastened rapidly back at evening, to find him 
 still alive, and in Bob's faithful charge. Then I set out, 
 at once, for Mr. Deering's residence, in Fourteenth Street. 
 
 As I approached the house, my step slackened and I fell 
 to meditating, not only on my errand, which I felt to be a 
 matter of some delicacy, but on Mrs. Deering's apparent 
 intimacy with Isabel Haworth. It will be remembered 
 that I had not seen the former since the night of my mys 
 terious repulse. I should no doubt have gone to her, as 
 soon as Custom permitted, but for my ruinous and reckless 
 course of life : she might possess the key to the treatment 
 I had received, or, if not, could procure it. There was the 
 hope of final knowledge in the present renewal of my ac- 
 quaintance, and thus my own happiness suggested it, no 
 'ess than my friend's.
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 457 
 
 I was hut A few paces from the house when the door 
 opened and a gentleman came out. I recognized Penrose 
 at the first glance, and I saw that he also recognized me, 
 before he reached the bottom of the steps. His appear- 
 ance in the house of Isabel Haworth's friend started a thou- 
 sand fierce suspicions in my breast He had won, he 
 was the fortunate suitor possibly the calumniator to whom 
 I owed my disgrace ! I stopped and would have turned, 
 but he was already upon me. 
 
 " Cousin John," he said, and there was a tone in his voice 
 which forced me to stand still and listen, though I could 
 not take his offered hand, " where have you been ? I tried 
 to find you, at the old place, but your landlady almost turned 
 me out of doors for asking. I thought you had anticipated 
 me in clearing the field. Come, don't glower at me in that 
 way, man ! we can shake hands again." 
 
 He took mine by force. 
 
 " What do you mean ? " I asked. 
 
 " That we are both floored. Floyd told me you had re- 
 ceived your walking-papers long ago, and so I pushed on 
 to get mine. You were right, John ; I did leave her out 
 of the account, in my calculations. But I never saw all 
 that I had lost until the moment of losing it. There, that 's 
 enough ; we need n't mention her any more. I '11 write to 
 Matilda to-morrow to find a brace of elegantly finished 
 machines, with the hinges of their tongues, knees, and 
 ankles well oiled, warranted to talk, dance, sit in a car- 
 riage, lounge at the opera, and do all other things which 
 patent ladies may of right do. You shall have one, and 
 I'll take the other." 
 
 He laughed a low, bitter laugh of disappointment 
 
 " Alexander," I said, " I did not know of this before. I 
 neld back my hand because I feared that you were my 
 fortunate rival. Now I give it to you, with my heart, if 
 you will take it after I have said one more word. I have 
 act ceased, and will not cense to love Isabel Haworth.
 
 458 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 Something has come between us which I cannot yet under- 
 stand, but, with God's help, I will remove it, and it may be 
 
 I scarcely hope, Alexander, but it may be that her 
 heart shall answer to mine. Now, will you take my 
 hand ? " 
 
 He looked at me, a moment, in silence. Then I felt my 
 hand locked in a firm grasp, which drew me nearer, until 
 our faces almost touched. His eyes read mine, and his lip 
 trembled as he spoke, 
 
 " God bless you, John ! I was right to fear you, but it is 
 too late to fear you now, and needless to hate you. I can't 
 wish you success, that would be more than human. But 
 since she is lost to me there is less pain in the knowledge 
 that you should win her than another. If it comes I shall 
 not see it. I am going away, and it will be some comfort 
 to think of you still as my friend." 
 
 " Going away ? " I repeated ; " you will leave New York 
 
 give up your business ? " 
 
 " No ; my excuse is also my necessity. Dunn and Deer- 
 ing have had an agency in San Francisco for two years 
 past, and it is now to be made a branch, under my charge. 
 The matter was talked of before, and I should probably 
 have been there already, but for well, for her. We 
 understand each other now, and nothing more need be 
 said. Try to think kindly of me, John, though you may 
 not like the selfish and arbitrary streak I have inherited 
 from my father ; let the natures of our mothers, only, 
 speak to each other in us ! " 
 
 I had kept his hand in mine while Ke spoke. Little by 
 little I was growing to understand his powerful, manly 
 nature, mixed of such conflicting elements, and, in that 
 comprehension, to feel how powerless were his coveted 
 advantages of beauty, energy, and fortune, in the struggle 
 for happiness. Again I turned to my own past history 
 with shame. The three men nearest to me Penrose. 
 Swansford, and Bob Simmons were equally unfortunate
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 45< 
 
 yt each courageously met his destiny, while I alone had 
 acted the part of a coward and a fool. I saw how shallow 
 had been my judgment, how unjust my suspicions, and the 
 old, boyish affection for my cousin came back to my heart. 
 
 " Alexander," I said, " I will remember you as a brother. 
 If I ever thought unkindly of you, it was because I did 
 not know you truly. God bless and keep you ! " 
 
 He was gone, and I stood at the door. Our meeting 
 had given me strength and courage, and I sought at once 
 an interview with Mrs. Deering. 
 
 She entered the room with a colder and statelier air 
 than 1 had before noticed in her. I felt, however, only the 
 solemn importance of my errand, and the necessity of com- 
 municating it without delay. I therefore disregarded her 
 somewhat formal gesture, inviting me to be seated, stepped 
 nearer to her, and said, 
 
 " Mrs. Deering, you will pardon me if I commit an indis- 
 cretion in what I have to say. It concerns a very dear 
 friend of mine who was once a friend of yours, Charles 
 Swansford ! " 
 
 She started slightly, and seemed about to speak, but 1 
 went on. 
 
 " He is lying on his death-bed, Mrs. Deering. He may 
 have but a day nay, perhaps only an hour to live. He 
 placed in my charge a musical work of his own composi- 
 tion, to be delivered to you after his death ; but I have 
 come now, unknown to him, to tell you that I believe no 
 greater blessing could be granted to his last moments than 
 the sight of your face and the sound of your voice. I need 
 not say anything more than this. If your heart inclines 
 you to fulfil my wish, mine, remember, not his, I am 
 ready to conduct you. If not, he will never know that I 
 have spoken it." 
 
 Her cold dignity was gone; pale and trembling, she 
 leaned upon the back of a chair. Her voice was faint 
 and broken. " You know what he is was to me ? * 
 the said.
 
 460 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 " I knew it last night for the first time, and then onlj 
 because he thought he was dying. I come to you at the 
 command of my own conscience, and the rest must be lefl 
 to yours." 
 
 " I will go ! " she exclaimed ; " it cannot be wrong now. 
 God, who sees my soul, knows that I mean no wrong ! " 
 
 " No, Mrs. Deering ; since you have so decided, let me 
 say to you that my poor friend's life of suffering and 
 despair would have been ignobly borne for your sake, had 
 you refused this last, pious act of consolation." 
 
 She grasped my hand in hers, crying, through her start- 
 ing tears, " Thank you, Mr. Godfrey ! You have acted 
 as a true friend to him and me. Let us go at once ! " 
 
 Her carriage was ordered, and in a quarter of an hour 
 we were on the way to Hester Street She leaned back in 
 the corner, silent, with clasped hands, during the ride, and 
 when we reached the door was so overcome by her agita- 
 tion that I was almost obliged to lift her from the carriage. 
 I conducted her first to my own room, and then entered 
 Swansford's, to prepare him for the interview. 
 
 He had been sleeping, and awoke refreshed ; his voice 
 was weak, but clear, and his depressed, unhappy mood 
 seemed to be passing away. I sat down beside him on the 
 bed, and took his hand in mine. 
 
 " Swansford," I said, " if you could have one wish ful- 
 filled now, what would it be ? If, of all persons you have 
 ever known, one might come to visit you, whom would you 
 name ? " 
 
 A bright, wistful gleam flitted over his face a moment 
 and then died out " No one," he sighed. 
 
 " But there is some one, Swansford, one who waits 
 your permission to come to you. Will you adm' t her ? " 
 
 "Her?" 
 
 His voice was like a cry, and such a wild, eager, wonder- 
 ing expression flashed into his features that I beckoned tc 
 Bob and we stole out of the room. Then I opened the
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 461 
 
 door for Mrs. Deering, and closed it softly behind her 
 leaving them alone. 
 
 Do you ask what sacred phrases of tenderness, what con- 
 fession of feelings long withheld, what reciprocal repent- 
 ance and forgiveness, were crowded into that interview? 
 I would not reveal them if I knew. There are some 
 experiences of human hearts, in which God claims the 
 exclusive right of possession, and I will not profanely ven- 
 ture into their sanctities. 
 
 Bob and I sat together in my room, talking in low tones, 
 until more than an hour had passed. Then we heard the 
 door of Swansford's room move, and I stepped forward to 
 support Mrs. Deering's tottering steps. I placed her in 
 a chair, and hastened to ascertain Swansford's condition 
 before accompanying her to her home. His wasted face 
 reposed upon the pillow in utter, blissful exhaustion ; his 
 eyes were closed, but tears had stolen from under the lids 
 and sparkled on his white cheeks. 
 
 " Swansford," I said, kneeling beside him, " do you for 
 give me for what I have done ? " 
 
 He smiled with ineffable sweetness, gently drew my head 
 nearer, and kissed me. 
 
 When I left Mrs. Deering at her door, she said to me, 
 " I must ask your forgiveness, Mr. Godfrey : I fear I have 
 done you injustice in my thoughts. If it is so, and the 
 fancies I have had are not idle, I will try to save you 
 from " 
 
 She paused. Her words were incomprehensible, but 
 when I would have begged an explanation, she read the 
 question in my face before it was uttered, and hastily ex- 
 claimed, as she gave me her hand, " No, no ; not to-night 
 Leave me now, if you please ; but I shall expect to see 
 you every day while he lives." 
 
 As I walked homewards, pondering on the event of the 
 evening, it was easy to perceive a connection between the 
 formal air with which Mrs. Deering had received me and
 
 462 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 her parting words. I surmised that she had heard some- 
 thing to my disadvantage, either from Miss Haworth, OT 
 from the same source as the latter, and thus the clue I 
 sought seemed about to be placed in my hand. I should 
 no longer be the victim of a mysterious, intangible hostility, 
 but, knowing its form, could arm myself to overcome it. 
 Hope stole back into my heart, and set the suppressed 
 pulses of love to beating. 
 
 From the close of that interview Swansford's condition 
 seemed to be entirely changed. The last drop of bitterness 
 was washed out of his nature ; he was calm, resigned, and 
 
 7 O ' 
 
 happy. He allowed me to send a message to his mother 
 and sisters, which he had previously refused, and lingered 
 long enough to see them at his bedside. He had insisted 
 on being laid in an unmarked grave, among the city's poor, 
 but now he consented that his body should be taken to his 
 Connecticut home and placed beside its kindred. The 
 las^ few days of his life were wholly peaceful and serene. 
 " He 's an angel a'ready, " Bob said, and so we all felt. 
 The decay of his strength became so regular towards the 
 close that the physician was able to predict the hour when 
 it would cease. We, who knew it, were gathered together, 
 around the unconscious sufferer, who had asked to be raised 
 and supported, in almost a sitting posture. His eyes wan- 
 dered from one face to another, with a look too far removed 
 from earth to express degrees of affection. All at once 
 his lips moved, and he began to sing : 
 
 " His songs are hushed, his music fled, 
 And amaranth crowns " 
 
 There his voice stopped, and his heart stopped with it. 
 
 T went to Connecticut with his family, and saw ihe last 
 rites performed in the green little church-yard among the 
 hills. Then I left his cheated hopes, his thwarted ambition, 
 his shattered life to moulder there, believing that Divine 
 Mercy had prepared a compensation for him in the eterna. 
 spheres.
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 4R3 
 
 Mrs. Deering's explanation, delayed by my constant at- 
 tendance during the last days, and the solemn duties which 
 followed, came at last ; but it was not so satisfactory as 1 
 had hoped. All that I could clearly ascertain was that 
 Miss Haworth had heard something knew, indeed, the 
 latter had declared to Mrs. Deering to my prejudice, 
 and had prohibited all mention of my name. Mrs. Deer- 
 ing naturally trusted to her friend's judgment, and my 
 absence from a house where I had been so cordially re- 
 ceived, confirmed her in the belief that her own vague 
 suspicions must have a basis in reality. It was not neces- 
 sary, she said, to mention them ; she had heard nothing, 
 knew nothing, except that Miss Haworth considered me 
 unworthy of her acquaintance. She was now convinced 
 that there was a mistake somewhere, and it should be her 
 duty to assist in clearing up the mystery. 
 
 Mrs. Deering also informed me of another circumstance 
 which had occurred some weeks before. Miss Haworth had 
 left her step-father's house very suddenly, and gone alone 
 to Boston, where she had relatives. It was rumored 
 but on what grounds nobody knew that when she re- 
 turned, it would not be to Gramercy Park. There must 
 have been some disturbance, for she, Mrs. Deering, her 
 most intimate friend, would otherwise have heard from her 
 She was on the point of writing, to inquire into the truth 
 of the rumor, when my visit, and the excitement and pre- 
 occupation of her mind with Swansford's fate, had driven 
 the subject from her thoughts. Now, however, she would 
 lose no time. If the story were true, she would offer Miss 
 Haworth a temporary home in her own house. 
 
 During these conversations, it was natural that my ex- 
 treme anxiety to ascertain the nature of my presumed 
 offence, and to be replaced, if possible, in Miss Haworth's 
 good opinion, should betray its true cause. I knew that 
 Mrs. Deering read my heart correctly, and added her hopes 
 to mine, although the subject was not openly mentioned
 
 *64 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 between us. She was never weary of recounting the nobla 
 womanly virtues of her friend, nor was I ever weary of 
 listening. The two women had been educated in the same 
 school, and were familiar with the circumstances of each 
 other's lives. I thus made good progress in the knowledge 
 of my beloved, even though she was absent and estranged. 
 While Mrs. Deering was waiting for an answer from 
 Boston, Penrose sailed for California. The evening before 
 his departure we spent together. Upon one subject there 
 was a tacit understanding of silence, but on all others we 
 were free and candid as brothers. With him went a portion 
 of my life which I resolved must be renewed in the future. 
 but when or how was as indefinite as the further course of 
 my own fortunes.
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 465 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIL 
 
 WHICH BRINGS MY FORTUNE AT LAST. 
 
 THROUGH all the period of agitation which I have just 
 described I adhered faithfully to my work, and in spite of 
 the demands upon my purse for poor Swansford's necessi- 
 sities (and they were gladly answered), I slowly recovered 
 my lost position of independence. Bob's generous loan 
 was returned, I was free of other debt, and possessed once 
 more an assured and sufficient income. Those months of 
 vagabondage seemed like a dark, uneasy dream, in the 
 steady light of resolution which now filled my life ; it was 
 as if a sultry haze in which the forms of Good and Evil 
 were blended, and the paths of order and of license be- 
 come an inextricable labyrinth, had been blown away, leav- 
 ing the landscape clearer than ever before. I will not say 
 that all temptations died, or no longer possessed a formi- 
 dable power ; but I was able to recognize them under what- 
 ever mask they approached, and patient to wait for the day 
 when each conditional sin of the senses should resolve it- 
 self into a permitted bounty. 
 
 On one subject alone I was not patient, and my disap- 
 pointment was extreme when Mrs. Deering informed me 
 that she had received a letter from Boston stating only 
 that the rumor was true, Miss Haworth would not return 
 to her step-father's house in Gramercy Park. She would 
 accept her friend's invitation when she came back to New 
 York, probably in a fortnight, or thereabouts. There 
 was a hint, it was true, of further confidences, when they 
 should meet I begged Mrs. Deering to write again, and 
 M
 
 466 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES 
 
 ask, at least, an explanation of the mystery in which I was 
 concerned. It was her right, I insisted, since she now per- 
 mitted me to call myself her friend. 
 
 Four days afterwards, on returning t6 my lodgings late 
 at night, after the completion of my editorial labors, I found 
 a small note upon my table. It was addressed in a woman's 
 hand, which struck my eye as familiar, although it was not 
 Mrs. Deering's, and I had long since ceased to receive 
 notes from any other lady, even from Adeliza Choate. I 
 opened it carelessly and read : 
 
 " I have judged you unjustly, and treated you rudely, 
 Mr. Godfrey. If I have not forfeited the right to make 
 reparation, or you have not lost the desire to receive it, 
 will you call upon me to-morrow evening, at Mrs. Deer- 
 ing's, and oblige 
 
 ISABEL HAWORTH." 
 
 I am not certain what I did during the next ten minutes 
 after reading this note ; but I have a dim recollection of 
 sinking on my knees at the bedside, and bowing my head 
 on the coverlet, as my mother had taught me to do when a 
 little boy. The work for which I had been trying to arm 
 myself was already done. It mattered not now who was 
 the enemy, nor what the weapon he had used against me ; 
 she confessed her injustice, confessed it fully, directly, 
 and honorably, as became her nature. The only prayer to 
 which I could bend my mind, before yielding to sleep that 
 right, was, " God, give me Isabel Haworth ! " 
 
 The next morning I wrote the single line, 
 
 " I will come. 
 
 JOHN GODFREY," 
 
 and carried it to Fourteenth Street myself, unwilling to 
 trust the fate of the message to other hands. That day 
 was the longest of my life. It was hard to force my mind 
 into its habitual harness, and go over the details of a new 
 ugar-refinery which was to be described for the morrow'a
 
 JV.BX GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 467 
 
 paper, when my imagination was busy with the rippled hail 
 and the soft violet eyes I had so long missed. 
 
 Let me overlook the memory of that gnawing impatience 
 and hasten forward to the evening. At" the earliest mo- 
 ment permitted by the habits of society, I presented myself 
 at Mrs. Deering's door, and sent my name to Miss Haworth. 
 T had not long to wait ; she came into the room taller, it 
 Aeemed to me, and more imposing in her presence, but 
 it was only the queenly air of right and justice which en- 
 veloped her. The sweet, frank face was pale, but firm, 
 and the eyes did not droop or waver an instant, as they met 
 my gaze. I forgot everything but the joy of seeing her 
 again, of being restored to her society, and went forward 
 to meet her, as if nothing had occurred since our last 
 parting. 
 
 But she stopped and held me, by some subtle influence, 
 from giving her the hand I was about to extend. " Wait, 
 if you please, Mr. Godfrey," she said. " Before I can allow 
 you to meet me as a friend, even if you are generous 
 enough to forgive, unexplained, the indignity with which 1 
 have treated you, you must hear how far I have suffered 
 myself to be misled by representations and appearances to 
 do cruel wrong to your character as a man." 
 
 She stood so firm and resolute before me, bending her 
 womanly pride to the confession of injustice with a will so 
 noble that my heart bowed down at her feet and did her 
 homage. It was enough ; I would spare her the rest of her 
 voluntary reparation. 
 
 " Miss Haworth," I said, " let it end here. You have al- 
 ready admitted that you judged me wrongly, and I ask no 
 more. I do not seek to know what were your reasons for 
 denying me the privilege of your acquaintance ; it is 
 enough to know that they are now removed." 
 
 " It is not enough ! " she exclaimed. " I claim to be ac- 
 countable for every act of my life. You have a right to 
 demand an explanation ; you irouJff demand it from a gen-
 
 468 TOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 fleman, and I am not willing to shelter myself under thai 
 considerate sentiment towards our sex which would spare 
 me a momentary humiliation, by depriving me of the op- 
 portunity of satisfying my sense of justice. Be candid^ Mr. 
 Godfrey, and confess that the unexplained wrong would 
 rest uneasily in your memory." 
 
 Her sense of truth struck deeper than my instinct of the 
 moment. I felt that she was right ; it was better that 
 everything should be told now, and the Past made clear, 
 for the sake of the Future. 
 
 " It is true," I said. " I am ready to hear all that you 
 consider necessary to be told." 
 
 She paused a moment, but not from hesitation. She 
 was only .considering how to begin. When she spoke, her 
 voice was calm and steady, and I felt that the purpose 
 which prompted her was but the natural suggestion of her 
 heart 
 
 " I believe that one's instincts are generally true, and 
 therefore I presume you already suspect that my step- 
 brother, Mr. Tracy Floyd, is no friend of yours ? " 
 
 I bowed in assent. 
 
 " Although I had no reason to attach much weight to 
 Mr. Floyd's opinions, I will admit that other circumstances 
 had shaken my faith, for a time, in the sincerity and hon- 
 esty of men ; that I was perhaps morbidly suspicious, 
 and hence his insinuations in regard to yourself, though not 
 believed, disposed me to accept other causes for belief. They 
 assumed to be based on certain circumstances which he 
 had discovered, and, therefore, when another circumstance, 
 seeming to confirm them most positively, came under my 
 own observation, I did believe. It was a shallow, hasty, 
 false judgment, how false, I only discovered a few weeks 
 ago. I am ashamed of myself, for the truth bids me honor 
 you for the very act which I interpreted to your shame." 
 
 Her words were brave and noble, but I did not yet under- 
 stand their application. I felt my cheeks glow and mj
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 469 
 
 heart throb with happiness at hearing my own praise from 
 her lips. She paused again, but I would not interrupt her 
 confession. 
 
 " You may remember," she continued, " having called 
 upon me, shortly after my return from the Northwest 
 Mr. Penrose was there at the same time, and you left the 
 house together. My step-brother came into the room as 
 you were taking leave. He was already in the habit of 
 making depreciative remarks when your name happened 
 to be mentioned; but on that evening he seemed par- 
 ticula'ly exasperated at your visit. It is not necessary for 
 me to repeat all that he said, the substance of it was 
 that your habits of life rendered you unfit for the society 
 of ladies, that he, being, by the relation between our 
 parents, permitted to look upon himself as my protector, 
 warned me that any appearance of friendship towards you, 
 on my part, would occasion me embarrassment, if not in- 
 jury. I could not reconcile his assertion with the impres- 
 sion of your character which I had derived from my pre- 
 vious acquaintance with you ; but, as I said before, Mr. 
 Godfrey, 1 had had unpleasant experiences of human self- 
 ishness and hypocrisy, my situation, indeed, seemed to 
 expose me to such experiences, and I became doubtful 
 of my own judgment. Then came a singular chance, in 
 which, wi bout my will, I played the spy upon your actions, 
 and saw, as I supposed, the truth of all Mr. Floyd had 
 declared." 
 
 My eyes were fixed upon her face, following her words 
 with breathless interest. Not yet could I imagine the act 
 or acts to which she referred. I saw, however, that the 
 coming avowal required an effort of courage, and felt, 
 dimly, Jiat the honor and purity of her woman's nature 
 were called upon to meet it 
 
 " You have saved a woman," she said, " and it shoul 3 not 
 i*j hard for me jo render simple justice to a man. I pajsed 
 Washington Square one evening, Mr Godfrey, when you
 
 470 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 were there to hear the story of an unfortunate girl T san 
 you endeavoring to help and console her, supporting he 
 with your arm, but I could hear neither your words noi 
 hers. I trusted only to the evidence of my eyes, and they 
 confirmed all that I had heard against you." 
 
 " What ! " I exclaimed, " how was it possible ? " 
 
 " I was in my carriage, bound on an errand which took 
 me to the corner opposite the lamp under which you stood 
 As the coachman pulled up his horses, you moved away 
 under the trees, as if fearful of being observed. The 
 duplicity of your nature (as I took it to be) seemed to me 
 all the darker and more repulsive from your apparent frank- 
 ness and honesty ; I was tired of similar discoveries, and 
 I resolved, from that moment that I would know you no 
 longer. It is my habit to act upon impulse, and I seized 
 the first opportunity which occurred, with what injustice, 
 what rudeness I did not suspect until I learned the truth. 
 I have tried to be as swift to atone as I was to injure, but 
 you were not to be found ; I knew not where a word from 
 me might reach you until I received Mrs. Deering's last 
 letter." 
 
 " Miss Haworth ! " I cried, " say no more ! you have 
 acted nobly, generously. I never accused you in my 
 heart, never." The next word would have betrayed my 
 passion. I held it back from my lips with a mighty effort, 
 but took her hand, bent my head over it and kissed it. 
 When I looked up her eyes drooped, and the clear lines 
 of her face were overspread with a wonderful softness and 
 sweetness. 
 
 " Tell me only," I said, " how you learned anything more 
 who gave you an account of my interview with " 
 
 I paused involuntarily. Her eyes were lifted steadily to 
 mine, and she completed the unfinished sentence, 
 
 "Jane Berry. From whom could I learn her story but 
 from herself? She has told me all. It was she who went 
 in my behalf to search for you."
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 471 
 
 It was my turn tj drop my eyes. Had Jane Berry in 
 deed told her alii No, it could not be; for in that case 
 Miss Ha\vorth might not have been so anxious to make 
 reparation. She now overvalued as much as she had 
 before undervalued my nature. What I seemed, in her 
 pure, just eyes, I guessed with pain, as I remembered what 
 I had been. But the mystery was not yet entirely clear ; 
 I thrust back the memory of my shame, and questioned her 
 again, 
 
 " How did you meet Jane Berry ? " 
 
 To my surprise, Miss Haworth seemed embarrassed what 
 answer to give. She was silent a moment, and a light, 
 rosy flush came into her face. Then she said, 
 
 " Is it not enough, Mr. Godfrey, that I have met her? 
 that I am trying to help her, as my duty bids me ? " 
 
 In what followed, I obeyed an irresistible impulse. 
 Whence it came, I cannot tell ; I was hurried along by 
 a leap of the heart, so rapid that there was no time left 
 to ask whither it was precipitating me. But the love 
 nourished so long and sweetly, assailed by rivalry, sud- 
 denly hurled back, half held in check by the efforts of 
 an immature will, and outraged by evil courses, now reas- 
 serted its mastery over me, filled and penetrated my being 
 with its light and warmth, shone from my eyes, and trem- 
 bled on my tongue. I was powerless to stay its expression. 
 All thought of the disparity of our condition, of the con- 
 trast between her womanly purity and nobility and my un- 
 worthiness as a man, vanished from my mind. I only felt 
 that we stood face to face, heart before heart, and from the 
 overbrimming fulness of mine, I cried, 
 
 " I know what you think, Miss Haworth, how kindly 
 you judge me. I know, still better, how little claim I have 
 to be honored in your thoughts, and yet I dare, how shalj 
 I say it ? dare to place myself where only your equal in 
 truth and in goodness ought to stand ! I should give you 
 time to know me better before telling you, as I must, that
 
 472 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 [ love you, love you ! Not first now, but long before 
 I seemed to have lost you, and ever since, in spite of its 
 hopelessness. I cannot thank you without betraying what 
 is in my heart I did not think to say this to-night ; I came, 
 too happy in the knowledge that you called me back, to 
 dream of asking more, but your presence brings to my 
 lips the words that may banish me forever. I ask nothing ; 
 love cannot be begged. I have no reason to hope; yet, 
 Isabel Haworth, I love you, and believe that you will par- 
 don if you cannot bless ! " 
 
 A silence followed my words. I stood with bent head, 
 as if awaiting a blow, while the gas-light fluttered and hum- 
 med in the chandelier above us. Presently a soft voice 
 my heart stood still, listening to its perfect music stolft 
 upon the hush of the room. 
 
 " I knew it already." 
 
 " Then," but I did not finish the sentence. Our eyes 
 met, and tremulous stars of twilight glimmered through the 
 violet of hers. Our hands met, and of themselves drew us 
 together ; drunken and blinded with happiness, I felt the 
 sweetness of her lips yield itself, unshrinkingly, to mine 
 Then my arms folded themselves about her waist, her hands 
 clasped my neck, my cheek caressed the silken, rippled 
 gold of her temples, and I sighed, from the depth of a 
 grateful soul, " Oh, thank God ! thank God ! " 
 
 She felt the touch of the tear that sparkled on her hair. 
 Once more I pressed my lips to her pure brow, and whis- 
 pered, " Tell me, is it true, Isabel ? " 
 
 She lifted her head and smiled, as we tried to see each 
 other's hearts in the dim mirror of either's eyes. 
 
 " I knew it," she repeated, " but I also knew something 
 more. Oh, ic is blessed to find rest at last ! " 
 
 Then she slipped from my arms, and sank into a chair, 
 covering her face with her hands. I knelt down beside 
 
 o 
 
 her, caressing her lovely head. " I thought I had lost you," 
 she murmured ; " I did not venture to hope that you would 
 forgive me so easily."
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 473 
 
 " Darling ! " I exclaimed, taking her hand in mine, "1 
 never accused you. I knew that something had crept be- 
 iween us, which I could not remove until I should discovei 
 its nature. Until to-night I have been ignorant of youi 
 reason for my dismissal. Had I suspected, had yon 
 given me a chance " 
 
 " Ah," she interrupted me, " you will understand ni} 
 abruptness now ! It was because I loved you, then, John, 
 that I felt outraged and humiliated that I resolved never 
 to see you again. You, of all the young men I knew, seemed 
 to me earnest and sincere ; I trusted in you, from the start, 
 and just as I began to hope as you hoped, John came 
 this blow to both of us. It could not have cost you more 
 to bear than it cost me to inflict. Are you sure you have 
 pardoned me ? " 
 
 " Isabel ! " was all the reply I could make, except that 
 wonderful speech of the silent, meeting lips. 
 
 My bliss was too pure, too perfect to be long enjoyed 
 without disturbance. Her maidenly courage, her frank 
 and fearless confession of reciprocal love, filled me with a 
 double trust and tenderness ; but it also recalled, ere long, 
 the shrinking, evasive silence of the false-hearted Amanda 
 That pitiful episode of my life must be confessed noi 
 that alone. I would not wrong the noble confidence of my 
 darling by allowing her to think me better than I was, 
 or, rather, had been ; for now the highest virtue, the stern 
 est self-denial, seemed little to pay in return for my bless 
 ing. Ah, had I found it but to lose it again ? This under 
 current of thought drove nearer and nearer the surface 
 clouding the golden ether I breathed, infusing its bittei 
 drop into the nectar of my joy. 
 
 " Isabel," I said, " I dare not win the fortune of my life 
 BO easily. I have been weak and sinful ; you must first 
 hear my story, and then decide whether it is fitting that ] 
 should stand beside you. I owe it to you to complete youi 
 knowledge of myself."
 
 474 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 u I expected nothing less from you, John," she said. " It 
 is just : nothing in cither's experience should be obscure tc 
 the other. You give me the Present, you promise me the 
 Future, and I therefore have a right to the Past" 
 
 She spoke so firmly and cheerfully that my heart was 
 reassured. I would postpone the confession until our next 
 meeting, and indulge myself, for this one sacred evening 
 in the perfect sweetness of my bliss. But another reflec- 
 tion perversely arose to trouble me, how should my pov- 
 erty consort with her wealth ? How should I convince 
 not her, but the unbelieving world of the pure, unselfish 
 quality of my affection ? Neither would I speak of this ; 
 but she saw the shadow of the thought pass over my face, 
 and archly asked, 
 
 " What else ? " 
 
 " I will tell you," I said. " Your place in the world is 
 above mine. I cannot make a ladder of my love, and 
 mount to the ease and security which it is a man's duty to 
 create for himself. Whatever your fortune may be, you 
 must allow me to achieve mine. The difference between 
 us is an accident which my heart does not recognize, 
 would to God there were only this difference ! but I dare 
 not take advantage of the equality of love, to escape 2 
 necessity, which it is best for your sake as well as my own 
 that I should still accept. You understand me, Isabel ? " 
 
 " Perfectly," she answered, smiling. " Not for the world's 
 sake, but for your own, I agree to your proposal. An idle 
 life would not make you happy, and I ought to be glad, on 
 my part, that my little fortune has not kept us apart So 
 far, it has rather been my misfortune. It has drawn to me 
 the false love, and now it shall not be allowed to rob me 
 of the true. Do not let this thing come between our hearts. 
 If it were yours, you would share it with me and I should 
 freely enjoy what it brings ; but a man is proud where a 
 woman would be humble, and your pride is a part of your 
 self, and I love you as you are ! "
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 475 
 
 * God grant that I may deserve you ! " was all I could 
 say. A softer and holier spirit of tenderness descender 1 
 upon my heart. Now, indeed, might my mother rejoice 
 over me, in her place amid the repose of heaven. 
 
 Presently there was a gentle knock at the door, and a 
 familiar voice said, " May I come in ? " 
 
 It was Mrs. Deering, whose face brightened as she looked 
 from one to the other. She said nothing, but took Isabel 
 in her arms and kissed her tenderly. Then she gave me 
 her hand, and I felt sympathy and congratulation in its 
 touch. 
 
 " It is cruel in me to interrupt you," she said, when we 
 were all seated, " but do you know how long I have left 
 you alone ? An hour and three quarters, by my watch, and 
 I was sure, Isabel, that you had long ago finished making 
 your amende. Mr. Godfrey, I believe this girl is capable 
 of accepting a challenge. I should think her a man, in her 
 courage and sense of right, if she had not proved herself 
 such a dear, good, faithful woman-friend to me. Then, I 
 was afraid, Mr. Godfrey, that you might slip away before I 
 could tell you that I know the cause of Isabel's misunder- 
 standing, and thank you, as a woman, for what you did. 
 And we have been to see Mary Maloney this afternoon, and 
 have heard your praises without end." 
 
 " But Jane Berry ! " I exclaimed, to cover my confusion , 
 " where is she ? I must see her again." 
 
 " I have found a quiet place for her, in Harlem," Isabel 
 replied. " But, before you see her, you must know how I 
 became acquainted with her and her story. Only, not to- 
 night, John, pray ; to-morrow, you will come again to- 
 morrow ? " 
 
 " To-morrow, and every day, until the day when I shall 
 cease to come, because I shall cease to go." 
 
 Mrs. Deering laughed and clapped her hands gleefully. 
 " I see how it is ! " she cried ; " I shall lose the use of mj 
 parlor, from this time forth ; but the interviews must be
 
 476 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 limited to two hours. At the end of that time I shall make 
 my appearance, watch in hand. Now, good-night, Mr 
 Godfrey, good-night, and God bless you!" 
 
 A quick, warm pressure of the hand, and she stole out 
 of the room. 
 
 " She has told me all," said Isabel, turning to me, " and 
 we have played the symphony, and wept over it together. 
 It is a little wild and incoherent, but there is the beat of a 
 breaking heart in it from beginning to end. You were a 
 true friend to him, John ; how I have wronged you ! " 
 
 " I have wronged myself," I exclaimed ; " but we will 
 talk no more of that now. My dear Isabel my dear 
 wife, in the sight of Heaven, say once more that you love 
 me, and I will keep the words in my ear and in my heart 
 until we meet again ! " 
 
 She laid her arms about my neck, she looked full in my 
 face with her brave and lovely eyes, and said, "I love 
 you, you only, now and forever." Then, heart to heart, 
 and lip to lip, our beings flowed together, and the man's 
 nature in me received the woman's, and thenceforth was 
 truly man. 
 
 " Stay ! " she whispered, when I would have left, " stay, 
 one moment ! " She glided from the room, but returned 
 almost immediately, with a slip of crumpled paper in her 
 hand. 
 
 " Here " she said, holding it towards me, " this separated 
 us, this brought us together again. It can do no further 
 harm or service. Let me burn it, and with it the mem- 
 ory for both of us of the evening when it was writ- 
 ten." 
 
 I looked at it, and read, with indescribable astonishment, 
 the words, " Miss Haworth informs Mr. Godfrey that 
 her acquaintance with him has ceased." It was the very 
 note I had received that evening in Gramercy Park ! 
 
 " Isabel ! what does this mean ? " I cried, in amaze- 
 HMUt
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 477 
 
 She smiled, lighted one end of the paper at the gas- 
 burner, watched it slowly consume, and threw its black 
 shrivelling phantom into the grate. 
 
 " It belongs to the story," she said ; " you shall heai 
 everything to-morrow. Now good-night ! " 
 
 \
 
 478 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES, 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIEL 
 
 OF WHICH JANE BERRY IS THE HEROINE. 
 
 ON my way home, under stars that sang together, my fiisi 
 thought was of my faithful Bob. It was already a late 
 hour for a man of his habits, but, sleeping or waking, I 
 resolved that he should know Jane Berry was found. I 
 turned out of the Bowery into Stanton Street, hastened 
 onward with winged strides, and reached the door breath- 
 less with impatience and joy. 
 
 All were in bed except the journeyman's wife, who was 
 at first a little alarmed at my untimely visit. I reassured 
 her, declaring that I brought only good news, borrowed a 
 candle and went up-stairs to Bob's room. The noise of my 
 entrance did not break his healthy, profound sleep. I 
 placed the light on the mantel-piece, took my seat on the 
 edge of the bed, and looked on the plain, rugged face I 
 loved. The unconscious features betrayed no releasei 
 expression of guile or cruelty : there was honesty on the 
 brow, candor on the full, unwrinkled eyelid, and goodness 
 on the closed lips. Only the trouble of his heart, which he 
 would not show by day, now stole to the light and saddened 
 all his face. 
 
 He seemed to feel my steady gaze, even in sleep ; he 
 sighed and tossed his arm upon the coverlet. I seized his 
 hand, and held it, crying, " Bob ! Bob ! " 
 
 His eyes were open in an instant " Eh ? John! what's 
 the matter ? " he exclaimed, starting up in bed. 
 
 " Nothing wrong. Bob. T would n't rouse you from sleep 
 bo hear bad news."
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 47S 
 
 " John, have you found her ? " 
 
 I felt the pulses in the hand I held leaping strong and 
 fast, and answered, "' She is found. I have not seen her. 
 but I know where she is, under the best protection, with 
 the best help, far better than mine could be, Bob." 
 
 He drew a long breath of relief, and his fingers uncon- 
 sciously tightened around my hand. " You 're a good 
 friend, John," he said. " Stand by me a little longer. 
 You 're smarter at thinkin' than I am, I can only think 
 with my hands, you know. Tell me what ought I to do ? " 
 
 Do you love her still, Bob ?" 
 
 " God knows I do. I tried hard not to, after you told 
 me what she 'd done ; but I could n't help pityin' her, and, 
 you see, that built up the feelin' on one side as fast as I 
 tore it down on t' other. But then, John, there 's the dis- 
 grace. My name 's as good to me as the next man's, and 
 my wife's name is mine. I must look ahe?d and see what 
 may come if if she should care for me (which I 'm not 
 sure of), and I should forgive her folly. Could I see her 
 p'inted at, could I bear to knoto things was said, even 
 though I should n't hear 'em ? And then, that would be 
 the hardest of all, could I be the father o' children that 
 must be ashamed o' their mother ? I tell you, my head 's 
 nigh tired out with tryin' to get the rights o' this matter. 
 I 'm not hard, that you know, and I could forgive her 
 for bein' blindly led into sin that a man does with his eyes 
 open, if there was more men that think as I do. But it 
 is n't the men, after all, John ; it 's the women that tear 
 each other to pieces without mercy ! " 
 
 " Not all, Bob ! " I cried ; " it is a woman who protects 
 her now, a woman who knows her story, and oh, Bob, 
 thit woman will one day be my wife, if God allows me so 
 much happiness ! " 
 
 I now told him, for the first time, of the great fortune 
 which had come to me. It seemed hard, indeed, to intrude 
 my pure bliss upon the trouble of his heart; but his nature
 
 480 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 was too sound for envy, or for any other feeling than the 
 heartiest sympathy. Encouraged by the bright congratu- 
 lation of his face, I allowed my heart the full use of my 
 tongue, and grew so selfish in my happiness that I might 
 have talked all night, but for the warning sound of a neigh- 
 boring church-clock striking twelve. Poor Bob had thrust 
 aside his own interests and perplexities, that he might 
 rejoice in the new promise of my life. 
 
 I broke off abruptly, and replied to his first question. 
 " Bob," I said, " I believe Jane Berry is still uncomipted at 
 heart I believe, also, that the conviction of having lost 
 you is her greatest sorrow. But do not ask me to advise 
 you what to do ; a man's own heart must decide for him, 
 not another's. See her first ; I shall learn to-morrow 
 where she is. I will go to her, and prepare her to meet 
 you, if you are willing, then act as God shall put it in 
 your mind to do. Now, I must go, good-night, you good 
 old Trojan ! " 
 
 I gave him a slap over the broad shoulders, and, before 
 I knew it, I was drawn up and held in iron muscles, until I 
 felt a man's heart hammering like a closed fist against my 
 breast. Then he released me, and I went down-stairs to 
 find the journeyman's wife sitting on the lowest step, fast 
 asleep, with her head against the railing, and a tallow dip, 
 sputtering in its socket, at her side. 
 
 The next day was only less eventful in my history than 
 its predecessor. I saw Isabel, and adhered to my self- 
 imposed duty. What passed between us belongs to those 
 sanctities of the heart which each man and woman holds 
 as his or her exclusive possession. She knew my life at 
 last, nothing weak, or dark, or disgraceful in its past 
 was withheld. I felt that I dared not accept the bounty of 
 her love, if it rested on a single misconception of my 
 nature. Had I known her then as I now know her, I 
 should have understood that nothing was risked by the 
 confessio i, that her pardon already existed in her love
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 481 
 
 But alas ! I had looked on married life, and seen as 1 
 still see concealment and cowardice honest affection 
 striving to accommodate itself to imperfect confidence! 
 Women are stronger than you think them to be, my broth- 
 er-men ! and by so much as you trust them with the full 
 knowledge of yourselves, by so much more will they be 
 qualified, not only to comfort, but to guard you! 
 
 During that interview I learned, also, the wonderful 
 
 O * 
 
 chance the Providence I prefer to call it which brought 
 Isabel and myself together again. Some particulars, lack- 
 ing in her narrative, were supplied afterwards by Jane 
 Berry, but I give them now complete as they exist in my 
 mind. In fact, so vivid and distinct is the story that it 
 almost seems to be a part of my own experience. 
 
 Jane Berry's first determination, after my last interview 
 with her, was to find other quarters, commensurate with 
 her slender means, and as far as possible from Gooseberry 
 Alley. One of the needle-women employed by the Bowery 
 establishment had found better work and wages at a fash- 
 ionable dress-maker's in Twenty-ninth Street, and, with her 
 help, Jane succeeded, the next morning, in engaging a 
 humble room in Tenth Avenue, with the prospect of occa- 
 sional jobs from the same mistress. She was impelled to 
 this step by her desire to save Mary Maloney from the 
 trouble of malicious tongues, and by a vague instinct which 
 counselled her to avoid me. Thus it was that she only 
 remained long enough to finish the Christmas-gift, which 
 she would leave for me as a token of her gratitude. 
 
 O 
 
 The evening after my visit, however, she made a discov 
 ery. In repairing the buttons of the waistcoat which Mary 
 Maloney had retained as a pattern for the new one, she 
 found a crumpled paper in one of the pockets. It seemed 
 to be a stray fragment of no consequence, and she was 
 about to throw it away, when her eye caught sight of my 
 name in one of the IAVO written lines. She read them, and 
 her mind, simple as it was, detected a partial connection 
 31
 
 482 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 between them and the reckless words I had addressed fn 
 her. I had said she well remembered it that I loved 
 one who was lost to me through no fault of mine ; that one 
 was probably this Miss Haworth. It was natural that her 
 fancy, brooding always over her own shame, should suggest 
 iliat she might be the innocent cause of my disappointment ; 
 my name was disgracefully coupled with hers by the ten 
 ants of Gooseberry Alley, and judging New York by Hack 
 ettstown, it seemed probable to her that all my acquaint- 
 ances might be familiar with the report. It was a suspicion 
 which occasioned her bitter grief, and she resolved to clear 
 my reputation at the expense of her own. 
 
 Thus, her very ignorance of the world helped her to the 
 true explanation of Miss Haworth's repulse, while the cir- 
 cumstance which actually led to it was so accidental as to 
 be beyond my own guessing. To discover and undeceivt 
 Miss Haworth was the determination which at once took 
 possession of her mind. She said to herself, " What a 
 lucky name ! I never heard it before. If she were Miss 
 Smith, or Miss Brown, I might as well give up ; but, big as 
 New York is, I am sure I can find Miss Haworth ! " 
 
 Poor girl, I fancy her search was sufficiently long and 
 discouraging. She may possibly have tried the " Directory," 
 but it could give her no help. Installed in the working- 
 room of the dress-maker, she kept her ears open to the 
 talk of the fashionable visitors, in the hope of hearing the 
 name mentioned. Once it came, as she thought, and with 
 much trouble, much anxiety of heart, and many cunning 
 little expedients, she discovered the residence of the lady 
 who bore it, only to find " Hayward " on the door-plate ! It 
 was wonderful that, with her poor, simple, insufficient plan 
 of search, she ever accomplished anything, and this is my 
 reason for accepting her success as due to the guidance of 
 Providence. One species of help, at least, she was shrewd 
 enough to perceive and take hold of; she learned the names 
 and addresses of other conspicuous modistes in the upper
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 482 
 
 part of the city, and visited them, one by one, to ascertair 
 whether they numbered a Miss Haworth among their pa 
 tronesses. It was truly a woman's device, and being pa 
 tiently followed, brought at last its reward. 
 
 The manner of the discovery was curious, and I have no 
 loubt but that I understand how it came about better than 
 Jane herself. Her unsophisticated air very probably cre- 
 ated suspicion in the minds of some of the sharp women 
 of business upon whom she called ; she may have been 
 suspected of being the crafty agent, or drummer, of a rival 
 establishment, for her question was ungraciously received, 
 and she was often keenly questioned in turn. Her pa- 
 tience had been severely tried, and the possibility of failure 
 was beginning to present itself to her mind, when one day, 
 at the close of March, she was attracted by the sign of 
 " Madame Boise, from Paris," and timidly entered, to re- 
 peat her inquiry. Madame Boise", who spoke English with 
 a New-England accent, listened with an air of suspicion, 
 asked a question or two, and finally said, 
 
 " I don't know any Miss flat/worth." 
 
 While saying this, she turned a large, light parcel up- 
 side down, so that the address would be concealed. The 
 movement did not escape Jane Berry's eye ; the idea came 
 into her head, and would not be banished, that Madame did 
 know Miss Haworth, and that the parcel in question was 
 meant for her. She left the house and waited patiently ai 
 the corner of the block until she saw a messenger-girl issue 
 from the door. Noting the direction the latter took, she 
 slipped rapidly around the block and met her. It was easy 
 enough to ascertain from the girl whither her errand led. 
 and Jane's suspicion was right She not only learned Miss 
 Haworth's address, but, for greater certainty, accompanied 
 the girl to the house. 
 
 The next morning she stole away from her work, filled 
 with the sense of the responsibility hanging over her, and 
 went to seek an interview with Isabel. If she had stopped
 
 484 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 *o reflect upon what she was about to do, she might havt 
 hesitated and drawn back from the difficult task ; but the 
 singleness and unthinking earnestness of her purpose drove 
 her straightforward to its accomplishment. 
 
 The servant who answered the door endeavored to learn 
 \ er business, and seemed disinclined to carry her message, 
 ">ut finally left her standing in the hall and summoned Miss 
 Haworth. When Jane saw the latter descending the stairs, 
 she felt sure she had found the right lady, from the color 
 of her eyes ; this was the naive reason she gave. 
 
 Isabel said, " You wished to see me ? " 
 
 " Yes, Miss Haworth, nobody but you. Must I tell you. 
 here, what I 've got to say ? Are you sure I won't be over- 
 heard?" 
 
 " Come in here, then," Isabel answered, opening the door 
 of the drawing-room, "if your message is so important. 
 But I do not recollect that I have ever seen you before." 
 
 " No, miss, you never saw me, and I don't come on my 
 own account, but on his. You '11 pardon me for speaking 
 of him to you, but I must try to set you right about him. 
 Oh, miss, he 's good and true, he saved' me from ruin, 
 and it 's the least I can do to clear up his character ! " 
 
 " Him ? Who ? " Isabel exclaimed, in great astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 " Mr. Godfrey." 
 
 Isabel turned pale with the shock of the unexpected 
 name ; but the next instant a resentful, suspicious feeling 
 shot through her heart, and she asked, with a cold, stern 
 face, 
 
 " Did he send you to me ? " 
 
 " Oh, no, miss ! " Jane cried, in distress, the tears coming 
 into her eyes ; " he don't know where I am. I went away 
 because the people talked, and the more he helped me the 
 more his name was disgraced on account of it. Please 
 
 O 
 
 don't look so angry, miss ; don't go away, until you 've 
 heard all ! I '11 tell you everything. Perhaps you ''ve
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. iSi 
 
 heard it already, and know what I 've been ; I '11 bear youi 
 blame, I '11 bear anything, if you '11 only wait and heai 
 the truth ! " 
 
 She dropped on her knees, and clasped her hands im- 
 ploringly. Her passionate earnestness bound Isabel to lis- 
 ten, but the latter's suspicion was not yet allayed. 
 
 " Who told you to come to me ? " she asked. " How did 
 you learn that I once knew Mr. Godfrey ? " 
 
 " Not him, miss, oh, not him ! I found it out without his 
 knowledge. When I saw that he was n't his right self, 
 he was desperate, and said that he was parted from one he 
 loved, and through no fault of his, and he did n't care what 
 would become of him, and then when I found this," 
 here she produced the note, "and saw your name, I 
 guessed you were the one. And then I made up my mind 
 to come to you and clear him from the wicked reports, 
 for indeed, miss, they 're not true.! " 
 
 Jane's imperfect, broken revelations, the sight of the 
 note, the evident truth of the girl's manner, strangely 
 agitated Isabel's heart. She lifted her from the floor, led 
 her to a seat, seated herself near her and said, 
 
 " I will hear all you have to say. Try and compose 
 yourself to speak plainly, for you must bear in mind that I 
 know nothing. Tell me first who you are." 
 
 "I am Jane Berry, the girl he saved the night of the 
 fire." 
 
 " Were you with him one evening in Washington 
 Square?" 
 
 " Yes ! " Jane eagerly exclaimed. " That was the time 
 
 told him all about myself, and how I came to be where I 
 was. And now I must tell you the same, miss. If it does 
 n't seem becoming for you to hear, you '11 forgive me wher. 
 you think what it is to me to say it." 
 
 "Tell me." 
 
 Whereupon Jane, with many breaks and outbursts of 
 shame and self-accusation, repeated her sad story. CM
 
 486 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 course she withheld so much of my last interview with hei 
 as might reflect an unfavorable light upon myself. Isabe 
 saw in me only the virtuous protector whom she had sc 
 cruelly misjudged. Jane's narrative was so straightforward 
 and circumstantial that it was impossible to doubt its truth. 
 Pity for the unfortunate girl, and condemnation of her own 
 rash judgment were mingled in her heart with the dawning 
 of a sweet, maidenly hope. 
 
 " Jane Berry," she said, when at last all the circumstances 
 were clearly explained, " you have done both a good and a 
 heroic thing in coming to me. I promise you that I will 
 make atonement to Mr. Godfrey for my injustice. You 
 must let me be your friend ; you must allow me to assist 
 and protect you, in your struggles to redeem yourself. I 
 will take Mr. Godfrey's place : it belongs to a woman." 
 
 Jane melted into grateful tears. Isabel, feeling that she 
 deserved the joy of being the messenger of justice to me, 
 wrote a note similar to that which called me back to her, 
 and intrusted Jane with its delivery. The message failed, 
 because I was at that time dishonorably banished from 
 Mrs. De Peyster's boarding-house, and my den in Crosby 
 Street was known to no one. 
 
 The fateful interview was over, and Jane, with the 
 precious note in her hands, was leaving the drawing-room, 
 when the street-door opened, and Mr. Tracy Floyd entered 
 the hall. Isabel, following Jane, heard the latter utter a 
 wild, startled scream, and saw her turn, with a pale, fright- 
 ened face and trembling limbs, and fall upon the floor, 
 almost swooning. 
 
 " Damnation ! here 's a devil of a muss ! " exclaimed Mr. 
 Floyd, with a petrified look on his vapid face. Perceiving 
 Isabel, he ran up-stairs, muttering curses as he went 
 
 " Oh, miss ! " Jane breathlessly cried, clutching a chair 
 and dragging herself to her feet, "dear, good Miss 
 Haworth, don't let that man come into your house ! Tell 
 me that you 're not thinking of marrying him ! He s the
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 487 
 
 one I was talking of! I Ve never mentioned his name yel 
 to a living soul, but you must know, for your own sake 
 Perhaps he' 11 deny it, for he lied to me and he 'cl lie to 
 you, but see here ! I call on God to strike me dead this 
 minute, if I 've told you a false word about him ! " 
 
 She held up her right hand as she pronounced the awful 
 words, but Isabel did not need this solemn invocation. Her 
 pure, proud nature shrank from the ignominy of her rela- 
 tion to that man, and a keener pang of reproach entered 
 her heart as she remembered that his insinuations in regard 
 to myself doubly infamous now had made her mind so 
 rapid to condemn me. It was impossible for her, thence- 
 forth, to meet her step-brother, impossible to dwell in 
 the same house with him. 
 
 I have reason to believe, now, that Mr. Tracy Floyd was 
 one of the band of genteel rowdies whom I encountered in 
 Houston Street on the evening of the fire, that he recog- 
 nized me and watched me conducting Jane Berry to Goose- 
 berry Alley. Perhaps he may have lain in wait for my visits 
 afterwards. Whether he also recognized Jane Berry, it is 
 impossible to say. Let us seek to diminish rather than in- 
 crease the infamy of his class, and give him the benefit of 
 the uncertainty. 
 
 Isabel only remained long enough to find a safe place of 
 refuge for Jane Berry. The fears of the latter were so 
 excited by her encounter with her betrayer that she begged 
 to be allowed to go as far as possible from the crowded 
 heart of the city, and gladly embraced the proposition r>f 
 boarding with a humble, honest family in Harlem. When 
 this duty was performed, Isabel, impulsive in all things 
 which concerned her feelings, left immediately for Boston, 
 resolved never to return to her step-father's house while 
 his son remained one of its inmates. 
 
 I lost no time in visiting Jane Berry. She, of course, 
 had learned nothing, as yet, of what had taken place, and 
 her surprise at my sudden appearance was extreme. 1
 
 *$8 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 knew, from the eager, delighted expression of her face, 
 what thoughts were in her mind, what words would soon 
 find their way to her lips, and could not resist the tempta- 
 tion to forestall her by a still happier message. 
 
 " Jane," I cried, taking her hands, " it is you who have 
 saved me! I have seen Isabel Haworth, and she ha?- 
 burned the note you took out of my waistcoat-pocket ! 
 burned it before my eyes, Jane, and she has promised to 
 write another, some day, and sign it ' Isabel Godfrey ! ' " 
 
 " Oh, is it so, Mr. Godfrey ? Then I can be happy again, 
 I have done some good at last ! " 
 
 " You are good, Jane. We shall be your friends, always. 
 Show the same patience in leading an honest life that you 
 have shown in helping me, and you may not only redeem 
 your fault but outlive its pain." 
 
 "No no ! " she said, sighing. " I 've heard it said that 
 a moment's folly may spoil a lifetime, and it 's true. I 've 
 been trying to think for myself, I never did it before, 
 and though I may n't be able to put everything into words 
 as you do, it 's here," (touching her heart,) " and I under- 
 stand it" 
 
 I thought of Bob, and felt that I was forced to probe her 
 sorest wound, with no certainty of healing it. But for 
 Bob's sake it must be done. 
 
 " Jane," I said, gravely, " I have found some one whom 
 you know, who loved, and still loves you. Jane, he is 
 my dearest friend, my old schoolmate and playfellow, who 
 picked me up the other day, when I was a miserable vaga- 
 bond, and set me on my feet He followed you when you 
 left Hackettstown, and has been trying to find you ever 
 since. Will you see him ? " 
 
 I saw, by her changing color, and the unconscious, con- 
 vulsive movement of her hands, that the first surprise of 
 my news was succeeded by a painful conflict of feeling. 
 
 " Does he know ?" she whispered. 
 
 a He knows all, and it is the sorrow of his life, as of
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 480 
 
 yours. But I am to tell you,' from him, that he will no1 
 force himself upon you. You must decide, for yourself 
 whether or not he shall come." 
 
 "Not now not now!" she cried. "If I could look 
 through the blinds of a window and see him passing by, I 
 think it would be a comfort, but I ought n't to wish even 
 for that. Don't think me hard, Mr. Godfrey, or ungrateful 
 for his remembrance of me when I 've no right to it ; but, 
 indeed, I dare n't meet him now. Perhaps a time may 
 come, I don't know, it 's better not to promise any- 
 thing. I may work and get myself a good name : people 
 may forget, if they 've heard evil reports of me ; but he 
 can't forget. Tell him I thank him from my heart, and 
 will pray for him on my knees every night. Tell him I 
 know now, when it 's too late, how good and true he is, and 
 I '11 give back his love for me in the only way I dare, by 
 saving him from his own generous heart! " 
 
 I sighed when I saw how the better nature of the woman 
 had been developed out of the ruins of her life, and that 
 she was really worthy of an honest man's love through the 
 struggle which bade her relinquish the hope of ever attain- 
 ing it. But I could not attempt to combat her feelings 
 without weakening that sense of guilt which was the basis 
 of her awakened conscience, the vital principle of her re- 
 turning virtue. It was best, for the present, at least, to 
 leave her to herself. 
 
 To my surprise and also to my relief Bob acqui- 
 esced very quietly in her decision. 
 
 " It 's about what I expected," he said, " and I can't help 
 thinkin' better of her for it. Between you and me, John, 
 if she 'd ha' been over-anxious to see me, 't would n't ha' 
 been a good sign, and I might ha' drawed back. You know 
 what I asked you about, I 've turned it over ag'in, and 
 this time it comes out clearer. I 've got to wait and be 
 patient the Lord knows how long, but His ways won't be 
 hurried. I must be satisfied with knowin' she 's in good
 
 *90 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 hands, where I can always hear of her ; and maybe a day U 
 come when the sight o' me will give her less trouble than 
 't would now, and when it '11 be easier for me to forgit 
 what 's past" 
 
 Bob bent his neck to his fate like a strong ox to the 
 yoke. Nothing in his life was changed : he was still the 
 steady, sober, industrious foreman, with a chance of becom- 
 ing "boss" in a year or two, respected by his workmen, 
 trusted by his employer, and loved with a brotherly affec- 
 tion by at least one fellow-man. His hands might hew out 
 for him a more insignificant path in the world than my head 
 achieved for me, but they beat down snares and bridged 
 pitfalls which my head could only escape by long and weary 
 moral circuits. Our lives were not so disproportionately 
 endowed as they seemed to my boyish eyes.
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 491 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 WHICH I RECEIVE AN UNEXPECTED LETT -:B FROM 
 UNCLE WOOLLEY. 
 
 DID ever such a summer shine upon the earth ? Did 
 the shadow-broidery of trees ever deepen into the perfect 
 canopy of shade, the bud open into the blossom, May ripeu 
 to June, with such a sweet, glowing, unbroken transition ? 
 Never, at least, had I seen the same diamond sparkle on 
 the waves of the harbor, in my morning walks on the Bat- 
 tery, or the same mellow glory of sunset over Union Square, 
 in returning from interviews which grew dearer and hap- 
 pier with every repetition. Even the coming separation 
 could not rob the season of its splendor : day after day the 
 sun shone, and the breezes blew, and the fresh leaves whis- 
 pered to one burden, joy, joy, joy ! 
 
 And day by day there came to me a truer and holier 
 knowledge of Isabel's nature. It seemed, indeed, that I 
 had never known a woman before, in the beautiful harmony 
 which binds and reconciles her apparent inconsistencies, so 
 that courage may dwell side by side with timidity, exaction 
 with bounty, purity with knowledge. The moral enigmas 
 which had perplexed me found in her their natural solution, 
 and she became at once my protecting and forgiving con- 
 science. I thought, then, that she surpassed me in every- 
 thing, but her truer instinct prefigured my own maturer 
 development Love can seldom exist without a balance of 
 compensations, and I have lived to know and to be 
 grateful for the knowledge that I am her help and stay, 
 as she is mine.
 
 492 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 Fortunately for myself, she was not a woman of genius, 
 to overpower my proper ambition, or bend it to her will. 
 Such may consort with the gentle, yielding, contented per- 
 sons of our sex who supply that repose which is the coveted 
 complement of the restless quality. Genius is always her- 
 maphroditic, adding a male element to the woman and a 
 female to the man. In Isabel, the strong sentiment of jus* 
 tice and the noble fearlessness with which she obeyed its 
 promptings, were also the sterling attributes of her owr 
 sex, and they but made her womanly softness rarer and 
 lovelier. Her admirable cultivation gave her an apparent 
 poise of character and ripeness of judgment, which pro- 
 tected, not obscured, the fresh, virgin purity of her feelings. 
 My sentimental phantom of inconstancy vanished when I 
 compared my shallow emotion for Amanda with this perfect 
 passion in which I lived and moved and had my being. 
 Now, for the first time, I knew what it was to love. 
 
 I have said that a separation was approaching. Her 
 summer was to be spent, as usual, in the country, the 
 greater part of it with Mrs. Deering, at Sachem's Head, 
 which gave me the promise of an occasional brief visit. 
 Isabel's mother, in her will, had expressed the desire il 
 was not worded as a command that she would not marry 
 before her twenty-first birthday. Her fortune, until then, 
 was in the hands of trustees, of whom Mr. Floyd was one, 
 and from her eighteenth year she was allowed the use of 
 the annual income. Until now, her step-father had drawn 
 it in her name, and she had allowed him to use the greater 
 portion of it in his private speculations. Of course his con- 
 sent to her marriage was not to be expected, and she de- 
 cided not to mention her betrothal until she should come 
 into the possession of her property, in the following October. 
 
 We were discussing these prosaic matters, not during 
 the second interview, be it understood, nor even the tenth, 
 and I had confessed the trouble of mind which her for- 
 tuiie had caused me, when she playfully asked,
 
 JOHN GODFREYS FORTUNES. 493 
 
 " What were the dimensions of this terrible bu<rl>ear ? 
 Tsikinjr your misg-ivin-rs. .John, and the eagerness of cer- 
 tain others, one would suppose it to he a question of 
 millions. Tell me, candidly, what is presumed to be my 
 market value? " 
 
 "I don't know, precisely," 1 answered;" " Penrose 
 said some hundreds of thousands ! " 
 
 "Penrose !" She paused, and an expression of disap- 
 pointment passed over her face. " I would rather he had 
 not said it. I did not think him selfish, in that way. 
 There is a mocking spirit in him which repels me, but I de- 
 tected noble qualities under it, at the last. I could have 
 accepted and honored him as a friend, if he had permitted 
 me. But to come back to the important subject, he was 
 wrong, and your trouble might have been diminished by 
 two thirds, or three fourths, if you had known it. I am not 
 the heiress of romance." 
 
 " So much the better ! " I cried. " Neither are you the 
 lady of romance, ' in gloss of satin and glimmer of pearls.' " 
 
 " You must hear the fact, John. My whole fortune is but 
 eighty thousand dollars, which, in New York, I believe, is 
 only considered to be a decent escape from poverty. 
 Having never enjoyed the possession of it, I feel that it 
 scarcely yet exists for me. I should value a tithe of it far 
 more, if it were earned by my own exertions, and this is 
 one reason why 1 yield so readily to your scornful inde- 
 pendence of me. I can enter into your feeling, for it is 
 also mine." 
 
 I was really relieved that the disproportion between our 
 fortunes was reduced by so much, though, for that mat- 
 ter, eighty thousand seemed as unattainable as eight hun- 
 dred thousand. All I could aim at was the system of steady, 
 moderately remunerative labor upon which I had entered, 
 and the prospect of gradual improvement which it helc 
 forth. I would, at least, not be an idle pensioner upon Isa 
 bel's means. This resolution gave me new vigor, infused
 
 494 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 lilfe into my performance of mechanical duties, and made 
 my services, as I soon discovered, of increased value, for 
 the increased reward followed. 
 
 Our parting was the beginning of a correspondence hi 
 which we still drew closer to each other, in the knowledge 
 of reciprocal want, and the expression of the deeper sym- 
 pathies born of absence. Our letters were long and fre- 
 quent, and then came, to interrupt them, the brief, delicious 
 visits, when I stole away for a Sabbath beside the blue wa- 
 ter, and Mrs. Deering managed that we should be left alone 
 to the extreme limit which Conventionality permitted. 
 Thus the bright summer wore away, nor once betrayed the 
 promise of its joyous opening. 
 
 It was the 9th of September, I recollect, for hi one 
 month, to a day, Isabel would become sole mistress of her 
 fortune, that, on going down to the Wonder office at the 
 usual hour, I found a large, awkward-looking letter upon 
 my desk. The postmark was Reading, and I thought I 
 recognized my uncle's cramped, heavy hand in the configu- 
 ration of the words, " Mr. John Godfrey." I opened it 
 with some curiosity to know the occasion of this unexpected 
 missive, and read as follows : 
 
 " READING, Berks Co. Penn'a. 
 September the 7th, 185 . 
 
 " RESPD. NEPHEW, I take my Pen in hand to inform 
 you that Me and your aunt Peggy are injoying good Health 
 and Those Blessings which the Lord Vouchsafes to us. It 
 is a long Time since we have heard anything of you, but 
 suppose you are still ingaged in the same Occupation as at 
 first, and hence direct accordingly, hoping these few Lines 
 may come Safely to hand. 
 
 " It has been a fine Summer, for the crops. The grass 
 has grown for the Cattle and the herb for the Service of 
 man (Psalms 104, 14,) and the Butter market is well sup- 
 plied. Prices will be coming down, but I trust you have 
 Found that wealth is not increased by price (Ditto 44, 12,)
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 49fi 
 
 and that Riches profit not in the day of wrath (P)overbs 
 11, 4). My business has Expanded, and I have reason to 
 be Thankful that I have so far escaped the Snares which 
 were laid for me as in a Trap (Job 18). Although I wa? 
 Compassed about, Praise be to the Lord, I have escaped. 
 
 " And this is the Reason why I write to you these few 
 lines. I might say to you Judge not that ye be not Judged 
 (Matthew 7, 1) if I was sure that your ears are not closed 
 in Stubbornness. I might Charge you as being one that 
 looketh on outward Appearance (Samuel 16, 7) but I will 
 not imitate your Behaviour to a man of your own Kin. 
 Sufficient unto the day is the Evil thereof, and as there is 
 a time for all things, (Eccl. 3) I hope your time for Ac- 
 knowledgement has come. I have waited for my Justifica- 
 tion. A long Time, it may seem to you. because you were 
 rash to suspect evil, but it has Been longer to me, because 
 I had to Bear your suspicion. With great wrestlings have 
 I wrestled, and I have Prevailed (Genesis 30, 8). It is 
 not good to be Rash, or to speak out of the Stirrings up of 
 the sinful Heart. It has been a sore Tribulation to your 
 aunt Peggy, though not rightfully to be laid at My door. 
 
 " Their Snares have failed and I am at last Able to re- 
 alize which, since the Road has changed, as I suppose 
 you have seen by the Newspapers, is a proper punishment, 
 showing that the Counsels of the wicked is Deceit (Prov- 
 erbs 12, 5). And you will See, much as you would not 
 Relieve it at the time, that Sixhundredfold was below the 
 Mark, which was all I Promised, but will Act upright, and 
 it shall be even Shares to the Uttermost farthing. I prayed 
 lo the Lord on my Bended knees that night, that He would 
 make my word Good, and let me not be Humbled, but it 
 is more than 2 years before He would allow it to come to 
 Pass, which I did not Count upon, and it is all the Better 
 for waiting. The new Survey was Made more than a year 
 ago, but Purchasers did not depend on the second change 
 antil there was some Cuttings and Bridges. Besides, the
 
 496 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 others went about Crying it down, for Disappointment ani 
 Spite, which had an effect on the Market, and so I would 
 uot Realize until the thing was sure. You see now that it 
 was not Necessary to suspicion me of acting dishonest, and 
 to Breed up strife in the household. Where Strife is, 
 there is confusion (James 3, 16), and you Magnified your 
 own opinions at the time, but Blessed is the man that mak 
 eth the Lord his trust and respecteth not the Proud (Prov- 
 erbs 40, 4). 
 
 " I write these few Lines to inform you that Things are 
 now fixed, as I said before, and may be Put into your own 
 hands whenever you like. I Remind you that a Recpt. in 
 full is necessary for the Justification of my name, though 
 not aware of Evil reports, which might have been Expected 
 after the manner in which you Went away from my doors. 
 Your aunt bids me say that things may be Taken back be- 
 tween Relations, and This should not be a matter too hard 
 for judgement, between blood and blood (Deuteronomy 
 17, 8). Therefore it Rests with yourself on what footing we 
 should stand. I will not bear Malice for past injustice, but 
 hope that you will acknowledge the lesser Truth, and yet 
 be Led to accept the Greater. 
 
 " If you come soon, Let me know the day beforehand 
 that all things may be Prepared. Your aunt says the spare 
 bedroom on the second story, if he will Take it, which I 
 repeat also for my own part though the House is sold, 
 by reason of Retiring from business, we have not Moved 
 away. Our Congregation has been blessed with a great 
 Awakening and increase of members, and we expect to 
 build a Large Church in the spring. The town is grow- 
 ing, houses go up wonderful fast, and Business improves 
 all the time. Himpel has prospered, being known as an 
 upright God-fearing Man, and the talents I leave in his 
 hands, Remaining Silent Pardner, will not be tied up in a 
 Napkin. 
 
 " Hoping these few Lines may reach you Safely, and
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 497 
 
 find you injoying good Health, and waiting for an answe* 
 whether you will come, no more at Present from 
 " Your uncle to command, 
 
 "AMOS WOOLLEY." 
 
 Two things were evident from this somewhat incoherent 
 epistle, that my uncle had finally " realized " his venture 
 in the coal-land speculation, and was ready to pay my share 
 of the investment ; and secondly, that he had keenly felt 
 the force of my accusations and desired a reconciliation. 
 The matter had almost passed out of my mind during the 
 eventful two years which had elapsed since my last visit to 
 Reading. I had given up my little inheritance as lost, and 
 never dreamed that it might yet be restored to me. My 
 own experience, in the mean time, disposed me to judge 
 more leniently of my uncle's unauthorized use of the money, 
 
 especially now that his scheme had succeeded. Success 
 has a wonderful moral efficacy. I could also imagine how 
 his pride of righteousness had been wounded by my words, 
 
 how they would come back to his mind and pull him 
 down when he would fain have exalted himself, and thus 
 become a perpetual thorn to his conscience. 
 
 Moreover, in looking back to the days of my life in Read- 
 ing, I was able to read his character more intelligently. 
 I saw that he was sincere, and that his apparent hypocrisy 
 was simply the result of narrowness and ignorance. He 
 had not sufficient intellect to be liberal, nor sufficient moral 
 force to be consistent. In most of the acts of his life, he 
 doubtless supposed himself to be right, and if, in this one 
 instance, he had yielded to a strong temptation, his ultimate 
 intention was honest I was willing to concede that he 
 never meant to defraud me, nay, that he was even un- 
 aware of the fraudulent construction which might be pu 1 
 upon his act 
 
 The same day I dispatched the following answer :
 
 498 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 u DEAR UNCLE, 
 
 u The news contained in your letter of the 7th was quite 
 unexpected, but none the less welcome, for your sake as 
 well as my own. While I still think that the disposal of 
 my little property ought to have been left to myself, I 
 cheerfully acquit you of any intention to do me wrong, and 
 to show that I not only bear no malice, but am willing to 
 retract my hasty insinuations against your character, I \\ill 
 accept your proffered hospitality when I visit Heading 
 You may expect me within the next four or five days. 
 
 u Reserving all further information concerning my own 
 fortunes until we meet, I subscribe myself, with an affec- 
 tionate greeting for Aunt Peggy, your nephew, 
 
 "JOHN GODFREY." 
 
 Mr. Clarendon, whose fatherly interest in my career was 
 renewed, and to whom I had confided much of my early 
 history, promptly and generously seconded my wishes. I 
 remained only long enough to write to Isabel, and to find 
 Bob Simmons and tell him that he must spend his next 
 Sunday evening elsewhere than in my attic in Hester 
 Street. Then I set out for Reading, by way of Philadel- 
 phia. 
 
 There was an accident on the road, which so delayed the 
 evening train that it was between nine and ten o'clock be- 
 fore I arrived. Knowing that my uncle was already in bed, 
 I went to the Mansion House and engaged quarters for the 
 night. The host conducted me to a narrow room, which 
 was only fitted for repose and privacy when the adjoining 
 chambers happened to be vacant One of these communi- 
 cated with mine by a door in the partition, which, though 
 locked, was so shrunk at the top and bottom that it uo 
 more kept out sound than a sieve. I was both fatigued 
 from the journey and excited by my visit to the old place ; 
 so I threw myself at once into bed, and lay there, unable 
 to sleep, meditating on the changes of the past two or three 
 years.
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 49C' 
 
 Perhaps half an hour had gone by, when footsteps and 
 rustling noises passed my door, a key was turned, t-nd the 
 same noises entered the adjoining chamber. 
 
 " Open the window I won't have my dresses smoked ! '' 
 exclaimed a voice which sent a nervous shock through my 
 body. 
 
 " You did n't used to be so damned particular," was the 
 brutal answer. And now I recognized the pair. 
 
 " Well, never mind about this. I sha'n't wear it again," 
 said she, in a bitter, compressed voice. " I 've told you al- 
 ready, Mr. Rand, that I 've always been used to having 
 money when I want it, and I want it now. You 've 
 cheated Pa out of enough to keep me in dresses for a life- 
 time, and you must make it up to me" 
 
 u How the devil am I to get it ? " he exclaimed, with a 
 short, savage laugh. 
 
 " I don't know and I don't care. You and Mulford were 
 very free to put everything into Old Woolley's pocket. If 
 you will be a fool, don't think that / am going to suffer for 
 it!" 
 
 " I wish that soft-headed Godfrey had run away with 
 you, before I ever set eyes on your confounded face. You 
 damned cat ! Who 'd think, to hear you purring before 
 folks, and rubbing your back affectionately against every- 
 body's feet, that you could hiss, and spit, and scratch ? " 
 
 " I wish he had ! " she exclaimed. " Godfrey will be 
 Old Woolley's heir." 
 
 I was first made aware that I had burst into a loud, 
 malicious laugh, by the sudden, alarmed silence, followed 
 by low whispers, in the next room. They were themselves 
 my avengers. Now, indeed, I saw from what a fate I had 
 been mercifully ?aved, and blessed the Providence which 
 aad dealt the blow. There was no more audible ccnversa- 
 *aon between my neighbors that night. They must have 
 discovered afterwards, from my name on the hotel register, 
 who it was that overheard their amiable expressions. 1
 
 500 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 saw them, next morning, from the gentlemen's end of tlie 
 breakfast-table, as they came down together, serene and 
 smiling, she leaning affectionately on his arm. Let them 
 go! The world, no doubt, considers them a happy and 
 devoted pair. 
 
 Nothing in the old grocery was changed except Bolty 
 who now wore a clean shirt and a pen at his ear, and kept 
 his mouth mostly shut. He had two younger assistants in 
 fhe business, but still reserved to himself the service ol 
 favorite customers. When he saw me entering the dooi 
 he jumped over the counter with great alacrity. 
 
 " Why, Mr. Godfrey ! " he cried, " this is a surprise. Not 
 but what I had a hint of it, when your letter came, by 
 yisterday mornin's mail. Glad to see you in My Establish- 
 ment, one o' my fust customers, ha, ha ! Did you no- 
 tice the sign ? I guess not, you was n't lookin' up." 
 
 I was obliged, perforce, to follow Bolty out upon the 
 pavement, and notice the important fact that " WOOLLEY 
 & " was painted out, and " LEOPOLD " painted in ; so that 
 now the sign read, and, I was sure would continue to 
 read, for a great many years to come, " LEOPOLD HIM- 
 PEL'S GROCERY STORE." 
 
 I determined that no trace of what had passed between 
 us should be visible in my manner towards my uncle and 
 aunt. I even gave the latter a kiss when we met, which 
 brought forth a gush of genuine tears. There was, of 
 course, a mutual sense of embarrassment at first, but as 
 both parties did their best to overcome it, we were soon 
 sitting together and talking as pleasantly and familiarly as 
 if our relations had never been disturbed. 
 
 When Aunt Peggy had withdrawn to the kitchen to look 
 after her preparations for dinner, Uncle Amos gave me a 
 long and very circumstantial history of his speculation. 
 There was a great deal which I could not clearly under 
 stand at the time, but which has since then been elucidated 
 by my own experience in matters of business.
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 501 
 
 The original scheme had indeed offered a very tempting 
 prospect of success. Several large tracts of coal-land had 
 been purchased for a comparatively insignificant sum, on 
 account of their remoteness from lines of transportation. 
 The plan of the new railroad which was to give them a 
 sudden and immense increase of value, had not yet been 
 made public, but the engineering scout employed by the 
 capitalists had made his report. He was an acquaintance 
 of Mulford, who had formerly been concerned with my 
 uncle in some minor transactions. This, however, was to 
 be a grand strike, promising a sure fortune to each. 
 
 After the charter for the road had been obtained, and 
 the preliminary surveys were made, the aforesaid tracts of 
 land might have been sold at triple or quadruple their cost 
 This, however, did not satisfy the speculators, whose appe- 
 tites were only whetted by their partial success. Then a 
 period of financial disturbance ensued : some of the capi- 
 talists interested in the road became embarrassed, and the 
 work stopped. The coal-lands fell again in value, and the 
 prospective fortunes dwindled in proportion. Up to this 
 time the lands had been held as a joint-stock investment, 
 my uncle's share being one fifth ; but now there was a 
 nominal dissolution of partnership, at the instance of Mul 
 ford, Bratton, and the Rands, each receiving his share of 
 the property, to be held thenceforth in his own name, and 
 disposed of at his own individual pleasure. My uncle was 
 no match for his wily associates. After a series of manoeu- 
 vres which I will not mdertake to explain, they succeeded 
 in foisting upon him a tract lying considerably aside from 
 the proposed line of the road, and divided from it (a 
 fact of which he was not aware) by a lofty spur of the 
 mountains. 
 
 When he discovered the swindle, he gave himself up for 
 lost The others held, it seemed, the only tracts likely to 
 be profitable at some future day, while his, though it might 
 be packed with anthracite, was valueless, because inaccessi
 
 502 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 We. He visited the spot, however, toiled over his two 
 square miles of mountain and forest, and learned one of 
 two circumstances which gave him a slight degree of com- 
 fort and encouraged him to wait In eighteen months 
 from that time the first projected road was still in abey- 
 ance, while the trains of the Delaware and Lackawanna 
 were running within a mile of his property ! There were 
 facilities for building, at little cost, a short connecting 
 branch : a golden radiance shone over the useless wilder- 
 ness, and he had finally "realized," for something more 
 than tenfold his investment 
 
 " Now," said Uncle Amos, wiping his fat forehead with a 
 bandanna handkerchief, for the narrative was long, intri- 
 cate, and exciting, " now, you can easy calculate what 
 your share amounts to. I Ve allowed you interest every 
 year, and interest on that again, as if it had been regularly 
 put out, and you '11 find that it comes, altogether, to within 
 a fraction of twenty thousand dollars. I '11 say square 
 twenty thousand, because you can then invest it in a lump : 
 there 's less temptation to split and spend. The money 's 
 in the Bank, and you can have a check for 't this minute. 
 If you Ve felt sore and distrustful about it all this while, 
 don't forget what I've gone through with, that had all the 
 risk and responsibility." 
 
 " We will think no more of what has gone by, uncle," I 
 said. " I will take your advice. The money shall be 
 invested as it is : I look on it still as the legacy of my father 
 and mother, and to diminish it would seem to diminish the 
 blessing that comes with it" 
 
 " That 's right, John ! I 'm glad that you have grown to 
 be a man, and can see things in the true light Ah, if jou 
 would but see all the Truth ! " 
 
 " I do," said I. " I know what you mean, Uncle. I have 
 learned my own weakness and foolishness, and the strength, 
 wisdom, and mercy of God." 
 
 He seemed comforted by these words, if not wholly con-
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 50S 
 
 vinced that my feet were in the safe path. At dinner his 
 prayer was not against " them which walk in darkness," but 
 a grateful acknowledgment for undeserved bounties, in 
 which I joined with a devout heart. 
 
 I completely won Aunt Peggy by confiding to her my 
 betrothal and approaching marriage. The next day, before 
 leaving for my return to new York, she brought me a 
 parcel wrapped in tissue-paper, saying, 
 
 " I want to send something to her, but I can't find any- 
 thing nice except this, which Aunt Christina gave me for 
 my weddin'. It 's not the fashion, now, I know, but folks 
 says the same things come round every twenty-five or 
 thirty years, and so I expect this will turn up again soon. 
 I hope she '11 like it" 
 
 She unfolded the paper and produced a tortoise-shell 
 comb, the top of which was a true-lover's-knot, in open fili- 
 gree, rising nearly six inches above the teeth. I smoth- 
 ered my amusement, as best I could, under profuse thanks. 
 and went away leaving Aunt Peggy proud of her nephew,
 
 504 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 THE story of my fortunes draws to an end, not because 
 the years that have since elapsed furnish no important rev 
 elation of life, no riper lessons for brain or heart, but 
 chiefly because the records of repose interest us less than 
 those of struggle. I have not enjoyed, nor did I anticipate 
 the enjoyment of, pure, uninterrupted happiness, but my 
 nature rests at last on a firm basis of love and faith, secure 
 from any serious aberrations of the soul or the senses. I 
 know how to endure trial without impatient protest, to 
 encounter deceit without condemning my race, to see. 
 evermore, the arm of Eternal Justice, reaching through 
 time and meting out, in advance, the fitting equivalent for 
 every deed. It is the vibration of the string which gives 
 forth the sound, and that of my life now hums but a soft, 
 domestic monotone, audible to a few ears. 
 
 Yet there are still some explanations to be made, before 
 closing this narrative of the seven years which renewed 
 my frame, changing gristle into bone, and adding the iron 
 of the man to the soft blood of the boy. 
 
 The unexpected restoration of my inheritance, so mar- 
 vellously expanded, necessarily changed my plans for the 
 future. After returning to New York, I lost no time in 
 visiting Isabel, and in consulting with my honored friend. 
 Mr. Clarendon. The latter, although assuring me that my 
 labors had become of real value to his paper, nevertheless 
 advised me to give up my situation, since I should be now
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 505 
 
 in the icceipt of a better income, and could devote a yeai 
 or two to rest and study. I knew my own deficiencies, and 
 was anxious to supply them for the sake of the new life 
 which was opening. A spark of ambition still burned 
 among the ashes of my early dreams. While recognizing 
 that I had mistaken enthusiasm for power, and sentiment 
 for genius, that my poetic sympathy was not sufficient to 
 constitute the genuine poetic faculty, I had nevertheless 
 acquired a facility of expression, a tolerable skill in de- 
 scription, and a knowledge of the resources of author-craft, 
 which, in less ambitious ways, might serve me, and enable 
 me to serve my fellow-men. The appetite was upon me, 
 never to be cured. There is more hope for the man who 
 tastes wine than for him who has once tasted type and 
 printer's ink. Though but one in fifty feels the airy intox- 
 ication of fame, while the others drink themselves into 
 stupidity, and then into fatuity, who is deterred by the ex- 
 ample ? 
 
 My inheritance did me good service in another way. 
 The reason for my withdrawal from the Wonder became 
 known, and my friend, the reporter of the Avenger, put it 
 into the " Personal " column of that paper, stating that I 
 had fallen heir to an immense fortune. The article was 
 headed "An Author in Luckf and, of course, went the 
 rounds of the other papers. I was congratulated by every- 
 body whom I had ever met, and even Messrs. Renwick and 
 Blossom, overlooking the ignominy of my flight from Mrs. 
 De Peyster's boarding-house, left their cards at Mrs. Very's 
 door. I gave the black boy who scoured the knives two 
 shillings to carry my cards to them in return, and went up 
 to Stanton Street, to pass the evening with Bob Simmons. 
 
 With October Isabel came back to the city. She had al- 
 ready written to her step-father and the two associate trus- 
 tees, and on the day when she completed her twenty-first 
 year the papers representing her property were placed in 
 her hands. Mr. Floyd, who had always treated her kindly,
 
 506 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 and who had found his house very lonely since her depart 
 ure, begged her to return, even going to the length of of 
 fering to banish his son. Then Isabel quietly said, 
 
 " I shall be married to Mr. Godfrey in two months, and 
 will not dispossess Mr. Tracy Floyd for so short a time." 
 
 The old man sighed wearily. The announcement, of 
 course, was not unexpected. There was a little affection 
 somewhere among the stock-jobbing interests which filled 
 his heart ; he had once imagined that his step-daughter 
 might become his daughter-in-law, and keep a warm home 
 for his old days. His intercourse with his son consisted 
 principally of impudent demands for money on one side, 
 and angry remonstrances on the other. What could he ex- 
 pect ? He gave his life to "Wall Street, and that stony di- 
 vinity does not say, " Train up your children." On the con- 
 trary, one of her commandments is, " Thou shalt give thy 
 sons cigars and thy daughters silks, and let them run, that 
 the care of them may not take thy mind from stocks." 
 
 As for Mr. Tracy Floyd, his fate was already decided, 
 though we did not know it at the time. For one so selfish 
 and shallow-hearted, his only plan of life to be the idle, 
 elegant husband of an heiress failed most singularly and 
 lamentably. Miss Levi employed the magnetism of her 
 powerful Oriental eyes to some purpose, for she trod his 
 plans under foot and married him before the summer was 
 over. I would give much to know the successive saps and 
 mines, the stealthy approaches, and the final onset by which 
 she gained possession of the empty citadel ; it would be a 
 more intricate romance than my own. She was a Jewess 
 with very little money in her own right, but wealthy con- 
 nections. The latter were desirous of rising in society, 
 and it was believed that they allowed a moderate annuity 
 to Mrs. Floyd, on condition that the match should be used 
 to further their plans in this respect, and that the possible 
 future children should be educated in their faith. I will 
 not vouch for the truth of this report, but the gossips of
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 507 
 
 Gramercy Park that winter declared that the Floyd man- 
 sion was frequented by numbers of persons with large 
 noses and narrow stripes of forehead. 
 
 We were married in December. Isabel wore the sap- 
 phires I loved, but their sparkle could not dim the sweet ; 
 tremulous lustre of her kindred eyes. It was a very quiet 
 and unostentatious wedding, followed by a reception in Mrs. 
 Deering's rooms. When evening came, my wife and I left 
 our friends, and went together, not on a tour from hotel 
 to hotel, with a succession of flashy " Bridal Chambers " at 
 our disposal, but to the dear little house in Irving Place 
 which was now to be our home. Yet we did not go alone. 
 Three radiant genii, with linked hands, walked before us, 
 
 Peace to kindle the fire on our domestic hearth, and 
 Confidence and Love to light the lamps beside our nuptial 
 couch. 
 
 Some weeks afterwards, I received, one morning, the fol 
 lowing letter from San Francisco : 
 
 " MY DEAR JOHN, I know why you have not written 
 to me. In fact I knew, months ago, (through Deering,) 
 what was coming, and had conquered whatever soreness 
 was left in my heart. Fortunately my will is also strong 
 in a reflective sense, and I am, moreover, no child to la- 
 ment over an irretrievable loss. I dare say the future will 
 make it up to me, in some way, if I wait long enough. At 
 any rate, you won't object, my dear old fellow, to have me 
 say not that I wish you happiness, for you have it, but 
 that you deserve your double fortune. The other item 1 
 picked up from a newspaper ; you might have written me 
 that. 
 
 u With this steamer there will come a trifle, which I hope 
 may be accepted in token of forgetfulness and forgiveness, 
 
 though it is Fate, not myself, that should be forgiven. 
 There may also come a time nay. I swear it shall come, 
 
 when I may sit by your fireside and warm my bald
 
 308 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 head, and nurse my gouty leg, and drink my glass of Port 
 Pray that it may be sooner for the sake of your (and hers, 
 now) "Affectionate cousin, 
 
 "ALEXANDER PENBO8E." 
 
 The " trifle " was a superb India shawl, and I am glad 
 that Isabel likes to wear it We have not yet seen our 
 cousin, for we were absent from New York when he came 
 to the Atlantic side, two years afterwards ; but we believe 
 in the day when he shall be an honored and beloved guest 
 under our roof. Till then, one side-rill of bliss is wanting 
 to the full stream of our lives. 
 
 Within a year after our marriage, Mr. Floyd met the 
 usual fate of men of his class. Paralysis and softening of 
 the brain took him away from the hard pavements and the 
 granite steps he had trodden so long. The mind, absent 
 from his vacant eyes, no doubt still flitted about on 'Change, 
 holding ghostly scrip and restlessly seeking phantom quo- 
 tations. It was not with us ; but we took his body and 
 cared for it a little while, until the mechanical life ceased. 
 Then reverence forbade us to wonder what occupation the 
 soul could find in the world beyond stock. 
 
 When spring came, I took Isabel to the Cross-Keys, and 
 gave her the first bud from the little rose-tree on my moth- 
 er's grave. Kindly hands had kept away the weeds, and 
 the letters on the head-stone were no less carefully cleaned 
 from moss and rust than those which contained my boyish 
 promise of immortality, the epitaph on Becky Jane Niles. 
 Our visit was a white day in the good Neighbor's life. 
 She tried to call me " Mr. Godfrey," but the familiar 
 " Johnny " would come into her mouth, confusing her and 
 bringing the unwonted color into her good old face, until 
 she hit upon the satisfactory expedient of addressing me as 
 u Sir." I don't believe any garment since her wedding- 
 dress gave her as much pleasure as the black silk we lefl 
 behind us.
 
 JOIIN GODFREY'S FORTUNES 509 
 
 Thence we went to Reading, where Isabel speedily won 
 the hearts of Uncle and Aunt Woolley, and so homeward 
 by way of Upper Samaria. Our visit was a great surprise 
 to Dan Yule, who had not heard a word about me since I 
 burned " Leonora's Dream " under the willows. Mother 
 Yule was dead, but Dan and his " Lavina " kept the plain, 
 cheerful spirit of the old home intact, and it was a happy 
 day we passed under their roof. A messenger was sent to 
 Susan, who came over the hills with Ben and their lusty 
 baby to tea, and the lively gossip around the fire in the 
 great kitchen chimney-place scarcely came to an end. I 
 was glad to hear that Verbena Cuff was married. Then 
 first I dared tell the story of the lime-kiln. 
 
 And now, having carefully disposed of so many of the 
 personages of my history, after the manner of an English 
 novelist if the last century, my readers may demand that I 
 should be equally considerate of the remainder. But the 
 Rands and the Brattons have passed out of the circle of 
 my knowledge. The same may be said of the Mortimers 
 and Miss Tatting. Mears has married a wealthy widow 
 and given up art for artistic literature. (I betray no secret 
 when I state that he is the well-known " Anti-Ruskin," 
 whose papers appear in " The Beaten Path.") Brandagee, 
 has, perhaps, undergone the greatest transformation of all ; 
 and yet, now that I know mankind better, I can see that 
 it is in reality no transformation, but a logical development 
 of his nature. Having scraped together a little capital, 
 probably obtained by following Fiorentino's method, he 
 ventured into Wall Street one day, was lucky, followed 
 his luck, rapidly became a shrewd and daring operator, 
 and is supposed to be in prosperous if not brilliant circum- 
 stances. He lives at the Brevoort House, and spends his 
 money liberally upon himself. He is never known to 
 lend to a needy Bohemian. " Gold," he now says, " is the 
 only positive substance." I frequently meet him, and as 
 the remembrance of my vagabond association with him has
 
 510 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 
 
 left no very deep sting, we exchange salutations and re- 
 marks, but there is no intimacy between us, and thert 
 never will be. 
 
 " But what of Bob Simmons ? And of Jane Berry ? " 
 the curious reader may ask. Shall I again lift the veil 
 which I have dropped upon two unfortunate hearts ? 
 Rather let it hang, that each one may work out in his own 
 way the problem I have indicated. Whether the folly of 
 a day is to be the misery of a life, or, on the other hand 
 a too easy rehabilitation of woman's priceless purity shall 
 be allowed to lessen the honor of the sex, are the questions 
 which my poor friends were called upon to solve. Which- 
 ever side we may take, let us not deny human pity to the 
 struggle through which they must pass, before peace, in 
 either form, can rest upon their lives. 
 
 If there is any lesson in my story, I think it is not neces- 
 sary that I should distinctly enunciate it. In turning over 
 these pages, wherein a portion of my life is faithfully re- 
 corded, I see, not only that I am no model hero, but that 
 my narrative is no model romance. The tragic element, 
 in externals, at least, is lacking, but then nu'ne has been 
 no exceptional life. It only runs, with different undula- 
 tions, between the limits in which many other lives are in- 
 closed. Why, then, should I write it ? Because the honesi 
 confession of a young man's fluctuating faith, his vanity 
 and impatience, his struggle with temptations of the intel- 
 lect and the senses, and the workings of that Providence 
 which humbles, sobers, and instructs him, can never be 
 without interest and profit to his fellow-men. If another 
 reason is wanted I will give it, and with it a final, fleeting 
 tableau of my present life. 
 
 Time, nearly a year ago. Scene, the little lawn in front 
 of our cottage on Staten Island. I am sitting on the ve- 
 randa, in an arm-chair of Indian-cane, with Jean Paul's 
 " Titan " a very literary nebula, by the way, the fluid 
 essence of a hundred stars in my hand. Isabel, fullei
 
 JOHN GODFREY'S FORTUNES. 511 
 
 and rounder in her form, but with the same fresh, cleai 
 beauty in her features, (how often I think of Penrose's ex- 
 clamation, " She is my Eos my Aurora ! ") sits neai 
 me, but her work rests on her lap, and her eyes follow the 
 gambols of Charles Swansford Godfrey, whose locks of 
 golden auburn shine out from the rift in a clump of box, 
 where he is seeking to hide from his little sister Barbara. 
 It is a charming picture, but I am too restless to enjoy i l 
 as a husband and father ought. 
 
 I throw down " Titan " and pace up and down the ve- 
 randa with rapid strides. Isabel looks towards me, and a 
 shade (think not that another eye than mine would notice 
 it !) passes over her face. I stop before her chair. 
 
 " Bell," I say, " what shall I do ? I have tried hard to 
 give up my literary ambition, and enjoy this lazy, happy 
 life of ours, but the taint sticks in my blood. I am restless 
 because my mind is unemployed : these occasional sketches 
 and stories don't fill the void. I want a task which shall 
 require a volume. Can't you give me a subject ? " 
 
 "I have been feeling the same thing all along, John," 
 says she, " and only waited for you to speak of it. Don't 
 aim too high in your first essay : take that which is nearest 
 and most familiar. Why not tell the story of your own 
 life?" 
 
 " I will ! " I exclaim, giving her a kiss as a reward foi 
 this easy solution of the difficulty. 
 
 And I have done it 
 
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