.
 
 MISCELLANIES 
 
 BY 
 
 JAMES B. EVERHART. 
 
 Frustra laborat, qui omnibus placer e studet." 
 
 WEST CHESTER: 
 EDWARD F. JAMES, 
 1S6S.
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1862, by 
 
 JAMES B. EVERHAK1 , 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, in and 
 for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. 
 
 JAMES, Printer, CLARK, Binder, 
 
 West Chester, Pa. West Chester, Pa
 
 PS 
 
 93. 
 
 TO THE 
 HOIST. O H -A. I* H, E S Iwfll I KT E H , 
 
 AUTHOR OF THE " HISTORY OF WYOMING," AC. 
 
 Your talents and virtues, which have given you 
 LITERARY REPUTATION, POLITICAL HONORS, AND UNIVERSAL ESTEEM 
 And which have been rendered still more attractive to me, by 
 
 lOarly .Associations, 
 AND YOUR LONG, UNBROKEN FRIENDSHIP WITH MY FATHER, 
 
 Induce the liberty I take in dedicating to you these discursive papers. 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 t^ >? Q *~j r~ O 
 .j_l.o.-coo
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 The following pages, containing essays, addresses 
 and personal reminiscences of the author, could hardly 
 be recommended by apologies for their publication. 
 It may, however, be suggested that if the articles be 
 without interest, they are generally short that if the 
 subjects be not new, they are at least varied that if 
 the descriptions be imperfect, they are not fictitious 
 and that to no part of the work can be attributed an 
 unseemly tendency, or an unworthy purpose. 
 
 WEST CHESTER, 1862.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE' 
 
 ABBOTSFORD AND MELROSE 37 
 
 ALEXANDRIA AND CAIRO 148 
 
 ALPS TO PISA 94 
 
 ATHENS 215 
 
 AYR 43 
 
 AGRICULTURAL ADDRESS 1855 229 
 
 BALLOONS 255 
 
 BERLIN 2CO 
 
 BEER TO TYRE 195 
 
 BETHLEHEM 189 
 
 BEDOUIN AND HIS FRIENDS 164 
 
 BROUGHAM, LORD 40 
 
 BULL FIGHT IN MADRID i 128 
 
 CHOATE, RUFUS, REMINISCENCE 1 
 
 CHESTER, SOMETIMES CALLED WEST CHESTER, (ENGLAND) 12 
 
 CONSTANTINOPLE 207 
 
 CRYSTAL PALACE 289 
 
 DESERT 158 
 
 DOG Boz 98 
 
 EASTER FESTIVAL 178 
 
 ESCURIAL 126 
 
 FLORENCE 226 
 
 GOLDSMITH, OLIVER 294 
 
 GUIDES 246 
 
 GERMAN BARON, A VISIT TO 163 
 
 HOLLAND.. . 269
 
 II CONTENTS. 
 
 INDUSTRY, MISAPPLIED 45 
 
 IRELAND, TRIP IN 57 
 
 JERUSALEM 167 
 
 JOE 84 
 
 JORDAN ROBBERS 181 
 
 JEWS 185 
 
 LOCH LOMOND AND LOCH KATRINE 19 
 
 LETTERS OF CREDIT 220 
 
 MAIDEN SPEECH 280 
 
 NILE 161 
 
 NAPOLEON, Louis 285 
 
 NAPLES 119 
 
 ORATION, 22o OF FEBRUARY, 1848 186 
 
 ORIENT 133 
 
 PARIS 68 
 
 POPE, VISIT TO THE 116 
 
 PASSPORTS, CUSTOM HOUSES AND QUARANTINE 199 
 
 RACES AT ASCOT 14 
 
 RHINE 275 
 
 RIDE ON THE PRAIRIES 90 
 
 ROME 109 
 
 SHAM SMUGGLERS 62 
 
 SECTS, RELIGIOUS, IN JERUSALEM 192 
 
 SlMPLON PASS OVER THE ALPS 88 
 
 STORY, JUDGE 72 
 
 SULTAN ABDUL MEDJID 21 1 
 
 SWITZERLAND 80 
 
 VENICE 243 
 
 VESUVIUS AND POMPEII 122 
 
 VIENNA 250 
 
 WINE VAULTS IN LONDON 5 
 
 WOMEN 21
 
 MISCELLANIES, 
 
 REMINISCENCE OF RUFUS CHOATE. 
 
 One sultry fourth of July, on the famous field of 
 Concord, a huge canvas tent shaded ten thousand parti 
 sans of that gifted leader, who was destined like Moses, 
 to lead his hosts to the land he could not reach himself. 
 
 Numerous men of mark sat on an elevated platform, 
 eating like other hungry people ; but whose organism, 
 unlike theirs, would transmute the food by a sort of 
 alchemy, into thoughts which move the world. 
 
 There was Webster, universally hailed the defender 
 of the Constitution with the fresh honor of diplomatic 
 triumph on his massy brows with the consciousness of 
 matchless eloquence upon his scornful lips coming, as 
 it were, like another Achilles, to cast dismay upon the 
 foe, by his majestic presence. 
 
 There were the benevolent features and bald head of 
 Abbott Lawrence the great merchant, and the fine 
 gentleman representing the aristocracy of commerce, 
 the American patronage of learning, and the princely 
 hospitality of Boston. 
 
 There was Horace Greeley, with hair and clothes as 
 light as his complexion ; whose plain demeanor, homely
 
 2 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 gestures, and drawling elocution marred the vast infor 
 mation and vigorous style of the editorial tribune. 
 
 There was another person whom I did not know. He 
 had a sad, thoughtful face, half poetical, half philosoph 
 ical, such as you see in the pictures of Lamartine. He 
 was nervous. He ate but little. He pushed his fingers 
 through his raven curls. His dreamy oriental eyes 
 glanced from earth to heaven. Light and shade flitted 
 alternately across his brow. He moved about on his 
 seat. He seemed excited with deep feeling. So you 
 might suppose the priestess appeared when about to 
 utter the oracle ; or the prophet on the point of pro 
 claiming the vision. 
 
 The Chairman, Mr. Hoar, addressed him : " I trust 
 our senatorial friend will allow us to ask him, ' Watch 
 man, what of the night ? ' ' 
 
 Tumultuous applause greeted the unknown figure 
 with cheers for Choate, as he rose to answer. 
 
 A tall man, he lifted himself up to his full height, 
 pale and trembling with emotion, he stretched forth his 
 arm. Amidst a silence like night, with a look radiant 
 of genius, and in a voice eloquent as an angel's, he 
 exclaimed: "The morning cometh! Thank God! the 
 morning cometh !" An exordium, so prompt and happy, 
 thrilled the innumerable crowd like magic. Subdued 
 murmurs of delight escaped them, and compelled him 
 to pause. As he proceeded he seemed to sway them by 
 a sort of fascination, they hung with parted lips upon 
 his accents, captive to every thought he uttered. Such 
 brilliant power, such genial sensibility, dazzled the 
 imagination, warmed the blood, filled the soul. His 
 wit, his pathos, his sarcasm, his imagery, were all eflfec-
 
 REMINISCENCE OF RUFUS CHOATE. 3 
 
 tive. You could read the deep indignation on all faces, 
 when he referred to the Texas land jobbers speculating 
 in war. Men shook with laughter, when in an irresis- 
 table manner, he spoke of Mr. Folk's name not having 
 been written between Orion and the Pleiades, and the 
 perplexity of his friends in proving his opinions by 
 witnesses and affidavits. They listened with breathless 
 admiration, when he alluded to the fitness of the assem 
 bly then and there ; and recalled the first fierce struggle 
 and the generous bloodshed of those heroic martyrs, 
 whom the angels in chariots of fire led on to victory 
 and to heaven. And few were unmoved when, turning 
 from the past and the dead, he pointed to the Revolu 
 tionary veterans near him, covered with the honored 
 marks of war and time, ready to renew their patriotic 
 vows, and consecrate their closing days, as they had 
 their best, on the altar of their country. 
 
 In conclusion he referred in complimentary terms to 
 Greeley for his advocacy of a protective tariff, and said 
 of it, that it is a principle native to the soil, and as 
 essential as the ballot. That labor is the true founda 
 tion of liberty that it must forge the national wea 
 pons and weave the national colors. That while liberty 
 'sheds its hallowed light over our institutions, labor 
 lends its sturdy arm for their support in peace, and for 
 their defence in war. 
 
 He ceased but the effect of his oratory was perma 
 nent. No one could forget his impressive emphasis, 
 which varied through all the notes of tuneful sounds 
 his pictorial words which seemed to make thought sensi 
 ble to sight his impassioned logic which glowed through 
 his periods with the energy of fire.
 
 4 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 Sometimes he spoke with such insinuating force that 
 you might suppose of him as of Pericles, that the god 
 dess of persuasion dwelt upon his lips. And sometimes 
 he displayed as much vehemence as if the furies had 
 roused him to ecstasy. 
 
 Occasionally his speech had the delicious sweetness 
 of some one gentle instrument of music. And occa 
 sionally, it had the swelling grandeur and crashing thun 
 ders of the orchestra.
 
 WINE VAULTS IN LONDON. 
 
 An English official, born within the cockney precincts 
 of Bowbells, invited me and others to St. Catherine's 
 docks. We boarded one of the small steamers which 
 ply between the bridges for a penny a head. We glided 
 down the yellow Thames, turbid with the drainage of 
 the city, by barges and skiffs, palaces and churchet, 
 warehouses and markets, prisons and gardens. 
 
 Arrived at the docks, we looked over the vast basin?, 
 in which one hundred and fifty ships can safely ride. 
 We passed through the lofty buildings, filled with im 
 ports from all quarters. We went down into those 
 vaulted chambers, which occupy acres with avenues an.l 
 alcoholic fluids. 
 
 A journey below the earth's surface seems to inspire 
 a feeling akin to dread. I had experienced it goin^ 
 into the mines, where the collier, with a lamp in tho 
 middle of his forehead, recalls the single eye of Cyclop 3 
 and as I entered the intricate alleys of the catacombs, 
 where the early Christians hid from Roman persecution, 
 worshiped and buried as I crossed the saltpetre 
 threshold of the mammoth cave, with its dark river and 
 blind fishes, and gorgeous crystalizations as I de 
 scended the spiral path of Joseph's well in Cairo as I 
 ventured into the dusty aisles of the old Egyptian tomb?, 
 marvelous with paintings and others have told of their 
 
 (5)
 
 6 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 distrust, as they went down amongst the coral colon 
 nades, which, beneath the keels of navies, form the 
 silent cities of the ocean. 
 
 And though our descent was as easy as that to 
 Avernus, and our errand as attractive as that which 
 tempted Orpheus, and our guide as skilful as the shade 
 that directed Dante yet the palpable darkness, scarcely 
 disturbed by our single candle, shining like "a good 
 deed in a naughty world," and the cool dank atmosphere 
 breathing on us, still conveyed the impression of mystery 
 and doubt. Yet down we wandered, by rows of hogs 
 heads, by walls of bottles, by stacks of demijohns, filled 
 with infinite liquors. They were gathered from different 
 markets and distant lands from beyond the oceans 
 and the mountains ; from the pleasant south ; from the 
 icy north ; from the log stills of the prairies ; from the 
 rude presses of the east. There were the treasures of 
 luxurious climates and prodigal soils the juices of 
 delicious fruits ; the essence of corn and cane ; the flavor 
 of peaches, juniper and grapes. There were the " fiery 
 Hollands," West India rum, Bourbon whiskey, and the 
 true Cogniac elements of those ingenious mixtures, 
 which, under the names of "schnapps," "punch" and 
 " smashers," are so prevalent and popular above ground. 
 
 There were wines of various vintages and brands 
 harsh and mellow, sweet and tart, light and heavy ; 
 some as famous as the old Falernian of Horace, as the 
 Samian cup of Anacreon, as Homer's Maronean. 
 
 There were thousands of the Hock which Byron loved 
 tuns of that fine port of Tennyson, "whose father
 
 WINE VAULTS IN LONDON. 7 
 
 grape grew fat on Lusitanian summers;" pipes of that 
 rare Madeira which Holmes says, 
 
 "Shows how delusion comes ;" 
 
 great casks of what Hunt calls " glorious claret ;" un 
 counted baskets of Ainsworth's "cold champagne." 
 Thus surrounded, we were persuaded to investigate 
 those luxuries, which could make the hour delicious with 
 song and laughter; which could transfigure the dim 
 walls of the cellar into some brilliant cave of Arabian 
 story, or the green vault of Dresden, with its diamonds. 
 So, beneath the floating drapery of cobwebs and the 
 fluttering wings of bats, we sat down amidst the trea 
 sures and the altars of the rosy god. We could not 
 then forget how universal is his rule, how potential is 
 the sceptre which he sways. No isothermal lines, no 
 geographical boundaries, no physical prowess, no boasted 
 ciilvizations limit his power. It reaches court and cot, 
 town and district, ship and strand, trade and letters, 
 misfortune and amusement. Everywhere the genial 
 fluid fascinates with its beauty of color, its beaded mo 
 tion, its thrilling taste. It often controls more than 
 reason, is more insinuating than flattery, more exciting 
 than ambition, stronger than love, and sweeter than life. 
 It offers to re-animate the faculties of age, to resist 
 the assaults of disease, to wash away, like Lethe, the 
 poignant memory of disasters. It promises a spur to 
 genius, invocation to charity, to uphold the energies in 
 the harvest and in the battle, to heighten the joys of 
 the feast and the fireside. It pretends to quench thirst, 
 to cool the blood, to expel the biting frost, to give peace 
 to conscience, and repose to care. Did it not make Fal-
 
 8 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 staff witty, and Caliban hospitable ? Did it not sustain 
 the fancy of Sheridan, the logic of Pitt, the song of 
 Burns, the tragic muse of JEschylus, the Latin speech 
 of Sir Thomas More ? 
 
 It has been from immemorial time the pledge of health, 
 of friendship and of faith. We read how libations of 
 wine pleased the nostrils of the gods. That pagans 
 called it the nectar of heaven ; and Christians, the tears 
 of Jesus. That it was the subject of the first miracle, 
 and the last sacrament. That it entered into the mys 
 teries of Eleusis and the banquet of Plato. That Paul 
 suggested its use in sickness, and Seneca, in vigor. 
 That on account of it a Sultan conquered Cyprus. 
 That an ancient custom adorned the drunkard with a 
 crown of gold. That Cyrus deemed himself fitter than 
 his rival for a king, for being a deeper drinker. 
 
 But with all our prepossessions in favor of the gener 
 ous vine juice ; notwithstanding its prescriptive virtues 
 and popular praises when the various specimens of it 
 were brought us for experiment ; when we saw it man 
 tling in the glass ; arrayed in all its enchantments ; 
 flashing with bright hues ; lifting itself like flames we 
 could not but remember the graphic image of Solomon, 
 and the repentant speech of Cassio. We thought how 
 it may have sweetened the apple which cheated Eve ! 
 how it induced the shame of Noah, and the crime of Lot ! 
 how it blasted the life of Poe ! made Swift a lunatic ! 
 Savage a murderer ! Person a brute! How it disgusted 
 Sparta with its victims, and deposed Cleomenes from his 
 throne! 
 
 But when we tasted it, and like Philoxenus, craved a 
 deeper throat to" prolong the sensation ! when we en-
 
 WINE VAULTS IN LONDON. 9 
 
 joyed its delicious contact with the palate ! felt its 
 ravishing warmth permeating through the system ! 
 moving the blood with exhilarated speed ! giving new 
 fancies to the mind, new light to the eye, new tones to 
 the lips ! When we saw its influence reflected in the 
 expression of one another ; unfolding our charities ; 
 warming our sympathies ; drawing us like love together 
 we, too, like many others, began to deem the bowl of 
 Bacchus, no less than the Pierian spring, a well of in 
 spiration. 
 
 It directed our imagination to the upper world. We 
 recalled the scenes of busy life above us. We rang our 
 glasses to the national airs ; we perfumed the beverage 
 with endearing sentiment ; we quaffed to the glory of 
 free rulers ; to the genius of science ; to the spirit of 
 the century ; to the empire of commerce ; to the re 
 public of letters ; to the universal beauty of women ; 
 to the charms of the distant transatlantic. The mute 
 old arches grew resonant with merry jests and volup 
 tuous idyls ; and the twilight gloom disappeared before 
 the flashes of wit and the sparkles of wine. 
 
 What to us were the cellars of Hortensius ; the table 
 of Apicius ; or Macaulay's "sunny halves of peaches, 
 and brains of singing birds ?" We were already realiz 
 ing the Elysium of the senses. We already seemed, like 
 the Persian Temschid, to read in the wine cup the mys 
 teries of the past and future. 
 
 With this hour of subterranean experience, we might 
 no longer wonder at the vast power which lay around 
 us in repose. There was sufficient to stimulate and 
 corrupt the age ; to fill the land with mischief or with 
 mirth. We might well muse upon its marvelous mis-
 
 10 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 sion ; its destined wide spread distribution ; its various 
 ultimate consumers ! What an essential feature it would 
 make in public and private assemblies ! How conspicu 
 ous it would be in historical commemorations ; in the 
 inauguration of enterprises ; in the opening of railroads ; 
 in the launching of vessels ; on the birth days of bene 
 factors ; on the coronation of kings ; on the election of 
 Presidents ! How it wonld contribute to the attractive 
 ceremonies of marriage ; to the funereal vigils of the 
 wake ; to the fantastic movements of the dance ; to the 
 boisterous pomp of parades ! 
 
 How it would magnify and diminish individual for 
 tunes ! What acres and mansions it would accumulate 
 and sweep away ! It would require besides vast labor 
 to fashion wood, clay and metal to receive it thereafter. 
 To make vessels for it, men would be cutting the cedars 
 of Canada ; preparing the tin of Malacca ; smelting 
 the ores of Schuylkill ; washing in the mines of Sacra 
 mento ; diving for the pearls of India ; blowing glass in 
 Venice ; tempering the earth of Staffordshire ; carving 
 the alabaster of Egypt ; moulding the gutta percha of 
 Singapore ; gilding the porcelain of Sevres. In such 
 numerous fabrics, it would be dealt out in various quan 
 tities by myriads of characters, from custom, for favor 
 and for money. Thus scattered abroad, it would be 
 sought as an antidote for pain ; it would be denounced 
 as a fountain of woe ; it would be bowed to as a divinity ; 
 it would be fought against as a devil. It would seduce 
 men to folly, poverty, crime and madness. It would 
 fill streets and homes, day and night, with oaths and 
 blows, and shame. It would supply courts with con 
 tests; jails with convicts; hospitals with patients;
 
 WINE VAULTS IN LONDON. 11 
 
 ccmetries with graves. It would give abundant work 
 to philanthropist and Christian. 
 
 And though the times are better than they were, when 
 the greatest drinker was the greatest man; when the 
 host never left his friend until he saw him under the 
 table; when inscriptions on tankards ordered one " not 
 to leave a drop," and to "drink till he could not stir a 
 foot;" when drinking guilds were all in vogue; when 
 parsons kept the best wine ; when the wassail bowl was 
 the symbol of hospitality. Yet still in spite of ex 
 perience and of lectures; in spite of societies, of 
 churches, of newspapers, of schoolmasters; in spite of 
 laws and politics king alcohol still holds his own, and 
 stands his ground, and will not die.
 
 CHESTER, SOMETIMES CALLED WEST CHES 
 TER, (ENGLAND). 
 
 The country from Liverpool to this place is diversi 
 fied by hills and plains, by cottages and trees, and 
 streams. The fields are inclosed by hedges, and the 
 soil is rich in grain. The rail road banks are gay with 
 clover and garden flowers. 
 
 Chester was called Cestria by the Latins, from cas- 
 tra a camp, once located here. It exhibits an odd 
 arrangement of brick and mortar, and a deal of age, 
 and mold, and dilapidation. It contains a great variety 
 of ruins. They date its origin two hundred and fifty 
 years after the deluge, and claim a grandson of Noah 
 for its founder. They aver that a skeleton, nine feet 
 in length was dug out of one of its streets, which con 
 nects its history with those days when there were giants. 
 It was doubtless a town when London was a wood or 
 morass, and before a Roman keel touched the channel. 
 The twentieth legion of the Empire quartered here after 
 their last battle with Boadicea. They encompassed it 
 with a wall. They constructed elaborate roads through 
 it. They built altars within it to their Gods. The 
 remains of their baths, the weapons of gladiators, 
 statues of divinities, and the coins of Emperors, taken 
 from the soil, are still to be seen. After them the Danes, 
 Welsh, Saxons, and Britons, contended with alternate 
 success for the city. On the river Dee which flows 
 around it, Edgar was once rowed by eight conquered 
 (12)
 
 CHESTER ENGLAND. 13 
 
 Kings. Close by, Harold, after the battle of Hast 
 ings, closed his life in a hermit's cell. Hither the first 
 William came flushed with triumph ; and the second 
 Henry, after his defeat by the Welsh, to receive the 
 homage of Malcolm of Scotland. In the Castle, the 
 Welsh made a final submission to Edward. From the 
 tower Charles the first beheld his defeat by Cromwell's 
 soldiery ; and the building, adorned with a curious stone 
 mantel, is still shown where his son frolicked during 
 the Protectorate. The city was loyal, and the cannon 
 of the Roundheads thundered for half a year against its 
 walls. 
 
 The streets are rectangular, and the old houses pro 
 ject one story over another. The Cathedral is of fine 
 proportions, seven hundred years old. It is remarkable 
 for the elaborate ornaments on the Bishop's throne, the 
 choir, and the Gothic screen, and the bones and effigy 
 of the first Earl of Chester. 
 
 St. John's church is still older, built, they say, where 
 Ethelred saw a white hind. Within it is a sort of gal 
 lery over the pews, where the nuns, unseen, attended 
 worship. 
 
 ^From the new tower, built in the 15th century, and 
 one hundred and thirty feet high, the view is grand. 
 There are the rivers winding around the walls, the 
 antique city, Beeston castle, the sweeping level of green 
 grass, the far off hills of Wales, and the illimitable 
 expanse of the sea. 
 
 2
 
 THE RACES AT ASCOT. 
 
 It was a pleasant holiday when I saw the horses run 
 at Ascot. Other courses perhaps may attract as dense 
 a crowd, but this one enjoys the presence of the Court. 
 Long trains of rail cars ran full. All curious convey 
 ances which extemporaneous necessity contrives, filled 
 the roads. There were carts and gigs of different styles 
 and ages, faded and out of fashion ; huge baskets, rough 
 boxes, and sections of hogheads were mounted on 
 wheels more or less elliptical. There were large horses 
 from the dray and plough, under the saddle and under 
 second hand clothes diminutive donkeys almost con 
 cealed by their riders fancy beasts, variously crippled 
 and colored, which had passed their prime and like 
 some party hacks survived their friends. There were 
 parties on foot picking their way along paths and over 
 stiles equipages brilliant with liveries and heraldry 
 the royal carriages, each drawn by four greys, with 
 postillions and mounted grooms all hastening forward 
 amidst dust, noise and enthusiasm to the field of sport. 
 
 The vast plain of green grass was marked by a course 
 of two miles in circuit. Outside of it, near the winning 
 post, were the long high galleries with seats for hire, 
 and a decorated balcony for Queen Victoria. Acres 
 were crowded with living masses. The hum of conver 
 sation, the loud oaths of the excited fancy men, the 
 
 (14)
 
 THE RACES AT ASCOT. 15 
 
 hoarse cries of hucksters, the constant peals of laugh 
 ter from groups of jovial friends, the frequent strains 
 of military music, the occasional yelp of injured dogs, 
 the neighing of numerous horses, the rumble of infinite 
 wagons, sounded for miles like the roar of the ocean. 
 
 The throng of foreigners and English comprised all 
 classes. The cities and the counties the factories, 
 the fields, the counters, the bar, the pulpit, the press, 
 the gaols, the palaces, the fighting rings, were repre 
 sented. 
 
 Gamblers were tempting the unwary with illusive cards 
 and little j okers. Thieves were industriously abstracting 
 coins and watches. Showmen amused gaping crowds with 
 Punch and Judy. Bogus American serenaders were sing 
 ing Dandy Jim of Caroline. Fair country girls and high 
 born ladies softened the coarse aspect of the scene by 
 their presence and their charms. Lords and diplo 
 matists mingled with the promiscuous multitude and 
 staked large sums upon the success of favorite nags. 
 The Queen, a small woman, with sharp features and 
 half closed lips, attended by the Duke of Cambridge, a 
 foreign prince, her children, and her handsome consort, 
 gave a sort of official encouragement and national 
 character to the day. It was a royal custom in the 
 time of Pindar to patronize the race. The steeds of 
 kings won prizes in the ancient circus. English so 
 vereigns from the reign of James the First, and per 
 haps before, established rules, appointed courses, sanc 
 tioned laws, and entered horses to maintain the credit 
 of the turf. Whatever tends to improve the stock, the 
 speed and endurance of the most useful animal has 
 been deemed worthy of the countenance of govern-
 
 16 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 ments. The Ascot premium was an exquisitely finished 
 silver cup, ornamented with appropriate devices and 
 figures. More than a dozen horses appeared in the con 
 test for it. Although evidently eager for the start, they 
 showed no unruly restlessness, and neither champed the 
 bit nor pranced ambitiously about. They walked with 
 an easy swinging gait. They were thorough bred. 
 Others for the chase, for the charge, for draught, may 
 be alloyed with baser stock, but the racer is the patri 
 cian of his kind. His lineage is carefully recorded, 
 and ascends higher than that of half the aristocracy. 
 His ancestors won wagers before the House of Hanover 
 reached the throne. His blood was unmixed before, 
 perhaps, the Commonwealth perished with Cromwell 
 before the monarchy expired with Charles. Through 
 revolutions and civil wars, in the midst of invasions and 
 expeditions, his line has been preserved for centuries, 
 untainted and unbroken. His derivation is traced to 
 that country where the horse is his master's friend and 
 fortune where he seems to serve from choice, and to be 
 swayed by love where he is never degraded by labor 
 where he is trained for pursuit and flight on the un 
 limited sands, and in the wild air, of the desert where 
 he is compared to the eagle in swiftness, and to the 
 storm in terror. The present stock owes its parentage 
 to the Godolphin Arabian, to the Darley Arabian, or to 
 the White Turk, which last was imported in the time of 
 James. 
 
 Those on the course seemed models of breed and 
 training. They were mostly of a chestnut color, of 
 large size, with high withers, small ears, flat legs, long 
 bodies, and long tails which were cut squarely off at
 
 THE RACES AT ASCOT. 17 
 
 the ends. They had no superfluous flesh, their muscles 
 were hard and as elastic as steel, their soft hairy sides 
 shimmered like velvet, and their large full eyes were 
 bright as light itself. The jockeys were dressed in 
 caps, boots and breeches, and distinguished from one 
 another by jackets of various hues. 
 
 Amidst some confusion, the Judges take the stand, 
 the track is cleared, the signal is given, and the whole 
 troop leap to the exhilarating task. 
 
 They seem to fly as they recede, but turning the dis 
 tant curve, their long springing motion looks like an 
 easy gallop. 
 
 How gloriously they move along the surface, with 
 their brilliant colored riders, and their streaming tails. 
 
 Though they started together, they soon scatter ; 
 some fall far in the rear, others droop near the lead, 
 and only two or three show any hope in the contest. 
 Shouts go up at intervals, when stretching forth their 
 long necks as if they would devour the distance, they 
 press or pass one another. The dust rises like a cloud 
 behind them. Money is transferred from hand to hand 
 as the chances waver. The rapid hoofs resound loudly 
 over the field. They approach the goal for the last time. 
 The jockeys firm upon the seat, bend over the loose 
 reins, cheer with the voice, urge with the whip, and strike 
 the spurs into the steaming flanks. The struggle grows 
 critical, the interest becomes intense, people stand 
 up on the benches, they gaze beneath the shade of their 
 hands, thousand of glasses are pointed, exclamations 
 are heard on all sides. The green jacket is in advance 
 the red is upon his quarter the black suddenly comes 
 up. He shows at once victorious metal his eye balls
 
 18 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 seem ready to burst with rage his red nostrils smoke 
 like fires his body appears now to kiss the ground 
 his legs seem now borne upon wings the air roars as 
 he rushes through it he moves twenty feet at a bound 
 he passes the second horse he is by the side of the 
 foremost he gains on him he is on his shoulder he 
 is even he is ahead he is beyond the winning post 
 the flags fall the race is won. 
 
 Amidst the wildest commotion the track is filled, the 
 winner is surrounded he bears himself proudly he 
 seems to rejoice in his triumph. His steps, his looks 
 are watched and admired. He is regarded with a kind 
 of reverence. He is to the course what the hero is to 
 the field. Speed is the horse's virtue. No wonder that 
 its exhibition is always popular, that it attracts all 
 characters, that states foster it, that it was a pastime of 
 antiquity, that it inspired the epic bards.
 
 LOCH LOMOND AND LOCH KATRINE. 
 
 We glided with the gentle waters of the Leven, on 
 whose bank Smollet was born, into Loch Lomond, the 
 largest lake in Scotland. It is dotted with islands of 
 much natural beauty, and much legendary interest. One 
 contains the fierce Macgregors' graves. Another gave 
 the war cry to the Buchanans. Another is marked by 
 a cave, or the ruins of some grim tower or castle. 
 Nearly all are wooded, elevated like piles of rocks, and 
 haunted by rabbits, deer and goblins, and one, they say, 
 by lunatics. The loch winds amongst them like streams, 
 often narrow, always deep, and so sheltered, that the 
 surface hardly knows a ripple or a wave. Rough, 
 huge, and lofty, Ben Lomond and Ben Voirlich rise on 
 opposite sides. At the water's edge you see the en 
 trance to Rob Roy's cave, one hundred feet in depth. 
 The main shores are red with heather-bells, or bright 
 with streamlets, which flutter like ribbons on the dis 
 tant crags. 
 
 We passed for a few miles on foot by a devious way, 
 between tall ridges, by cot and moor, and moss, by burn 
 and bog, till we beheld Loch Katrine below us, brilliant 
 as a mirror. We sailed it from end to end. The chan 
 nel was circuitous, the hills seemed to close up on our 
 path and in our wake. Birch trees covered the steep 
 slopes with their green and silver, the soaring mountain 
 tops blazed like altars in the setting sun. The inlets 
 
 (19)
 
 20 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 fringed with grass and boughs, the pebbly beach, the 
 varying light of sky and shores, and the dancing 
 shadows on the waters, made 
 
 " It so wondrous wild, the whole might seem 
 The scenery of a fairy dream." 
 
 Its very solitude inspired a belief in unseen creatures. 
 Its silence seemed like the pauses in music. The next 
 instant some magic might transform the sylvan picture, 
 or fill the air with the swell of mysterious voices, or the 
 hum of elfin wings. But Scott's wizard genius has 
 added to the charms of this delicious region. We gaze 
 with new interest on the haunts of chivalry and love. 
 In yonder glen the huntsman left his "matchless steed " 
 to "Highland eagles." Beneath the branching oaks 
 and weeping willows of that oval island, floated the 
 shallop of fair Ellen. There is the beach, where with 
 his minstrel harp, reclined the white-haired Allan-bane. 
 
 There by the glade, the smitten stranger lingered for 
 the maiden's 'mute farewell.' 
 
 There is Benvenue, whence sped the fiery cross rous 
 ing from meadow, bier and altar, Clan Alpine for the 
 battle. 
 
 Thence onward is the Goblin's cave, the Trossachs 
 glen, Loch Achray, the mustering place of Lanrick 
 mead and Coilantogle ford, where guide and guest 
 sealed in blood their courtesies and courage 
 " Then foot, and eye, and point, opposed 
 In dubious strife they darkly closed."
 
 WOMEN. 
 
 The imagination has been exhausted in describing 
 woman. She has been compared to a fair vision, to a 
 lovely flower, to a celestial spirit. She has been called 
 the paragon of creatures, the personification of frailty 
 and of fury. She has been named a belligerent biped 
 trebly armed with tears, tongue and nails ; or a suppli 
 ant being, made to prepare the meals and mend the 
 clothes of man. But she is rather the better, if not 
 the wiser half of human nature, and an exquisite part 
 ner 
 
 "in the ceaseless, changeless, hopeless round 
 
 Of weariness, and heartlessness, and woe, and vanity, that make up 
 man's mortal journey." 
 
 From the first, when it was thought not good for man 
 to be alone, and from his side, nearest the heart, was 
 formed a helpmate meet for him from then till now, 
 through all the vicissitudes of ages, places and opinion, 
 women have consummately answered the object of their 
 original. Their kindness and their charms have been 
 the unfailing fountain of family felicity, the secret of 
 social attachment, refinement and progress. They have 
 subdued the hard nature, the fierce passions, and the 
 rude manners of mankind. They have elicited the 
 softer feelings, the quicker sensibilities; fostered those 
 nicer perceptions, and finer faculties, and purer senti 
 ments, which appreciate and constitute the harmonies 
 
 (21)
 
 22 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 of the soul. Whatever is delicate in expression or 
 thought, or gentle in spirit, or graceful in address, or 
 amiable in intercourse; whatever soothes, consoles or 
 cheers ; stimulates the desire of excellence, invites to 
 offices of charity, or excites the better affections, is 
 founded in female influence or cherished by it. That 
 influence gives rise or exercise to every elegant art to 
 that which ravishes the ear with the discourse of sweet 
 sounds, or which enchants the fancy with ideas of the 
 beautiful, with the blandishments of pleasant visions or 
 embodied forms, or which crowd the heart with emo 
 tions of delight and love. It is she who inspires the 
 dreams of poetry, and the pages of romance ; and flings 
 fascination over all the field of letters, and every de 
 partment of taste. What story ever moved, or pleased, 
 or persuaded, or taught what masterpiece of imagina 
 tive composition has genius ever conceived, or moulded, 
 or portrayed, in which she was not the source of its 
 merit, or the means of its praise ! In her sex were per 
 sonified the muses, and those graces and virtues, which 
 still wait upon her steps and bless her presence. On 
 her was imposed the mission to watch the holy flame of 
 Vesta, to utter the oracles of Apollo, to dictate the 
 laws of Numa, to communicate the Sibyl's leaves to 
 Tarquin. In every leaf of history are her living 
 records. It is her noiseless, social prevailing influence 
 which has created an elegant standard of approbation. 
 She has also mingled in the struggle for literary fame, 
 and been distinguished amongst the gifted and the 
 learned. Her authorship has not wanted either happy 
 style or useful purpose. She has accurately delineated 
 the lively features of scenes, passions and lives. Her
 
 WOMEN. 23 
 
 efforts have tended to meliorate; blended wholesome 
 principle with entertainment; rarely pandered to com 
 mon prejudice, or served the corruptions of the day. 
 She has been the advocate of better things, of human 
 advancement ; holding forth inducements to consistency 
 in morals or in faith; decking truth with flowers ; 
 making goodness to appear bold, and beautiful, and to 
 be desired; entwining the scales of justice with the 
 wreath of mercy; opening the door of relief to the 
 voice of distress ; speaking encouragement to the deso 
 late ; humility to the proud, and peace to those who are 
 at strife. 
 
 We hardly find in the catalogue of writers, one of 
 purer aspirations, who displayed livelier pictures of hu 
 manity, with more of good and less of evil, than she 
 who sang the "Songs of Woman," of "Home," of 
 "The Affections," of "The Hebrew Mother," and 
 "The better Land." There was also Miss Landon 
 who shed new interest on scriptural stories, and the gay 
 period of tournaments, of errant knights and minstrels. 
 And those lovely sisters who strung their harps on the 
 banks of the Saranack, and perished just as the world 
 caught a glimpse of the angel purity and beauty of 
 their lives. And Hannah Moore, whose ingenious logic 
 combatted in England the infidel sophistry of France. 
 And Miss Burney, whose productions first gave a sound 
 morality to fictions in prose, and enchanted the great 
 orator and the great critic of her age. There too are 
 the delicious odes of Sappho, to whose memory Lesbian 
 admiration raised temples and altars. And there are the 
 genius of Madame De Stael, and the scholarship of 
 Lady Jane Grey.
 
 24 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 If we regard woman's capacity for eloquence, what 
 natural advantages of sensibility, and fluency, and 
 fancy ! What richness of metaphor, what ingenuity of 
 persuasion does she display ! Every attribute of her 
 sex, and every quality of her nature the sweetness of 
 her lips, the mild radiance of her eyes, the weakness 
 of her person, and the reserve of her deportment, infi 
 nitely aid her. 
 
 So we read of the successful pleading of the daugh 
 ter of the Lydian king, which caused opposing hosts to 
 ground their weapons, and conclude a long and bitter 
 struggle. And of the Celtic women who saved the na 
 tion on the eve of a civil warfare. And of Hortensia, 
 when she victoriously spoke in behalf of the Roman 
 matrons against the tyranny of the Triumvir. And 
 of Miss Tucker who at the Exeter Assizes, inex 
 perienced and alone, obtained her acquital against the 
 direction of the judge. 
 
 If we regard her efforts for the advancement of 
 science, what grander example than that of Isabel, who 
 aided the adventurous discovery of the new world. Or 
 what more interesting instance of intelligent study than 
 that of Miss Herschel, whose original observations of 
 the heavens were acknowledged by learned associations. 
 
 Her administrative ability has been demonstrat 
 ed by Semiramis, making Babylon the beauty of 
 cities ; and by Elizabeth, establishing the glory o.f 
 England. Women have been also eminent in the field. 
 There was the military maid of Orleans, as beautiful as 
 brave, cased in the rugged gear of war, climbing fore 
 most "the perilous edge of battle when it raged." Or 
 witness the famous Telesilla, whose lyrics gave lustre
 
 WOMEN. 25 
 
 to the city of Argos, and whose brilliant courage saved 
 it from the desolations of a siege. Or that queen of 
 Carsonne, who with shield and lance drove the exulting 
 Saracens from the city gates. Or the wife of the 
 sixth Harry, the heroine of twelve decisive battles. 
 Or the maid of Saragossa, whose intrepidity revived 
 the failing spirits of her countrymen, and repulsed the 
 army of France. Or Boadicea, the Druid queen of 
 Britain, who headed her rude soldiery against the steady 
 legions of Rome. 
 
 But we need not enumerate instances of individual 
 courage, when women have gone to the field in squad 
 rons, moving with measured tread to the sound of "in 
 strumental harmony," and fighting till the "mailed 
 Mars did on his altar sit up to the ears in blood." Thus 
 the Amazonians of Asia, wild as Lapland witches, left 
 their native hills on a distant expedition to meet the 
 army of Attica. And the famous Jane Hachette at 
 the head of a regiment of female voltigeurs, with 
 streaming hair and clothes, yelling and shouting as 
 only women can yell and shout, scared the troops of 
 Burgundy from the town of Beauvais. 
 
 Such examples exhibit the higher capabilities of the 
 sex when emergencies call them forth. But public sen 
 timent considers, that it is 
 
 " Men who must be busy out of doors, must stir 
 The city ; yea make the great world aware 
 That they are in it ! for the mastery of which 
 They race and wrestle." 
 
 And that women best act their part 
 
 " When they do make their ordered houses know them." 
 
 3
 
 26 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 That they are to strive by moral influence and natural 
 graces. 
 
 In her beauty lies a source of power. It is external 
 and therefore is an instant recommendation. It acts 
 like incantation ; reaches the roughest heart that throbs ; 
 dazzles, fascinates and gives immedicable wounds. 
 It has been mightier than the sword, or sceptre, 
 or the gifts of mind. It has ruled states and heroes ; 
 foiled philosophy in the schools ; won the prize from 
 genius in the games ; wrung mercy from the judge ; made 
 the tyrant gentle ; the miser liberal ; the bandit honest. 
 It was beauty which controlled the policy pf Athens in 
 the splendid period of Pericles. It saved the life of 
 Phryne, when the reasoning of Socrates failed. It five 
 times triumphed over the hymns and paeans of Pindar, 
 when Corinna was his rival. It drew out in prodigal 
 profusion the treasure of the French monarch, when 
 the starving populace begged in vain. It stayed the 
 blow of death, when the daughter of a savage chief in 
 terceded for a stranger. It obtained protection from 
 the robber for an outlawed English queen. It turned 
 away the wrath of David, when it pleaded in the coun 
 tenance of Abigal. It saved the scattered Jews from 
 massacre, when Esther besought the king. It carried 
 the poll for Fox, when the Duchess of Devonshire 
 reached the hustings. 
 
 Yet this female beauty is as common as sight. It is 
 peculiar to no nation, and is claimed by no class. It 
 glows in the goddess, and in the peasant girl, and in 
 the Indian squaw. It reigns in the parlor, in the 
 pantry, and in the fish market. It drinks nectar on 
 Olympus, schnapps in Holland, wine in Castile, and
 
 WOMEN. 27 
 
 signs the temperance pledge in Kennett Square. It 
 dances on the stage, prays in the church, swears on the 
 wharf, and smokes in Matamoras. It sings like a 
 nightingale, and screams like a peacock. It scolds on 
 washing day, and gossips at the tea party. It reads 
 novels, and hymn-books, and valentines. It sews, 
 spins, scrubs, cooks, thumps on the piano, and keeps 
 no secrets. 
 
 It is difficult to define the source of that beauty of the 
 face which men are prone to worship. Is it in any cast 
 of complexion ? There have been beauties colorless as 
 air, pale as cream, yellow as gold, or red like crimson, 
 or brown as autumn leaves. "Match me" (says the 
 bard) 
 
 " With Spain's dark glancing daughter-" 
 
 While Helen, whose charms caused strife amongst the 
 gods, had the complexion of smoke. Is it in the glossy 
 appearance of the hair ? Venus has been represented 
 with a head as scarlet as fire. Is it in the regularity of 
 features ? The beauties of ancient Persia were remark 
 able for a nose like an eagle. Is it in 
 
 " the eyes which are the books, the academies, 
 From whence doth spring the true Promethean fire ?" 
 
 Homer considered that they were only beautiful as they 
 were large, and made Juno's the size of an ox's. And 
 the goat feeted belles of China have them no bigger than 
 their beads. 
 
 The standard of taste varies. It requires teeth to be 
 gilded in Japan, painted red in India, blackened in 
 Guzurat. , The skin must be as blue as the sky in 
 Greenland, jet as ebony in Monornotapa. In Peru the
 
 28 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 nostrils are hung with heavy jewelry ; and goitres orna 
 ment the necks of Alpine girls. 
 
 Beauty seems, therefore, dependent for its impres 
 sion on caprice or fashion. It is, however, the element 
 of that attraction and sympathetic desire of hearts, 
 which the world calls love. 
 
 Love requires no teaching. It is prior to precept, 
 independent of rule, defies calculation and description, 
 and engrosses every faculty and feeling. It merges all 
 other considerations into a single impulse, and some 
 times turns men into poets, lunatics and corpses. It is 
 the bond of society, which it pervades like an atmos 
 phere ; which it gilds like sunshine, and blesses like 
 grace. 
 
 In individual instances it exhibits infinite phafees, ac 
 cordingly as occasion or temperament gives it trial. It 
 is coy, tender, serious, ardent and irresistible. It is 
 patient of mockery, difficulty, toil, danger ; unchecked 
 by injury, indifference or doubt. It overlooks the 
 shame, fault or folly of its object ; forgives, excuses, 
 extenuates ; spares when it might punish ; suffers when 
 it might avenge ; still hopes against appearances ; still 
 believes against disappointments ; still confides though 
 betrayed. 
 
 " When the soul dejected lies, 
 Love can raise it to the skies. 
 When in languor sleeps the heart, 
 Love can wake it with his dart." 
 
 Its influence is boundless. It reaches all periods and 
 conditions of existence. It pervades and thrills, with 
 trembling or anticipation or ecstasy, the feeble, the 
 youthful, the old, the homely, the humble, the pretty,
 
 WOMEN. 29 
 
 and the brave. It cannot be concealed, like murder it 
 will out. It feeds upon the damask'd cheek ; speaks in 
 the languid eye ; cautious silence and muttering solilo 
 quy betray it. The swain carves it on the trees, and 
 pipes it on his reeds. It clings to the wanderer as he 
 wears his far off voyage to stranger lands. It is with 
 the soldier on the red field of battle ; with the ambitious 
 in the fierce wrestle for fortune or for power ; with him 
 who bears the sacred vessels of the altar. 
 
 It has affected languages and creeds. It is the theme 
 of the early ballads, and of cultivated verse. It in 
 spired the self sacrifice of Phaon's rejected mistress ; 
 the immortal sonnets of Petrarch ; the letters of Eloisa 
 and Abelard. 
 
 Love was the subject of those prize productions, 
 which were written in gold on the walls of the holiest 
 temple of "Araby the blest." In the palmy days of 
 Grecian letters, when fable crowded the elements with 
 spirits, love was made a god, naked and blind, armed 
 with bow and quiver, and graced with little wings. 
 That little god still doubtless lives, and waves his 
 purple pinions, and hurls his magic arrows into infinite 
 hearts. For love is now as it was of old, mysterious as 
 the future, omnipotent as death, lasting as life, and uni 
 versal as woman. She is its object, and ever present 
 cause. 
 
 " She has the shaft of eyes 
 
 That far the shaft of war out flics." 
 
 And we may presume that tke lustre of every eye, blue,
 
 30 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 black, gray, and hazel, has had its prey, and made its 
 conquest. 
 For 
 
 " The lover very frantic, 
 
 Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of 
 
 Egypt." 
 
 Without the aid of mythology or Calvinism, one might 
 conclude that love is not lottery, but fate. That its 
 silken cords are twisted, and its gilded meshes woven 
 by the fingers of destiny herself. Lovers, like poets, 
 are born. Accident or circumstance only exposes the 
 latent spark, or fans it into flame. So all the tricks of 
 the wooer and the wooed the leer, the ogle, the sighing, 
 the weeping and beseeching, the Christmas present, the 
 studied flattery, "the grave protestation and the graver 
 oath," "the dumb jewels," and the "exhausted ink- 
 horn," "the woful ballad," the moonlight meeting, 
 
 " On hill, on dale, forest or mead 
 
 By paved fountain or by rushing brook, or on the beached inargent 
 of the sea;" 
 
 The billing, the pouting and the quarrel ; all potions, 
 physical or sentimental; all philters of drugs and con 
 jurations, are but the wayward incidents of that true 
 passion "whose course never did run smooth." 
 
 While there is so much that is praiseworthy in 
 woman, it must not be forgotten that an occasional 
 one has failings, delicate and pardonable to be sure, 
 yet sufficient to keep her within the pale of hu 
 manity. Were such a one more taciturn, with less 
 curiosity and vanity, she would be nearly perfect, 
 almost an angel. But these foibles prove her mortal, 
 "of the earth, earthy." .She never would, she never
 
 WOMEN. 31 
 
 will believe, though inspiration penned, and mira 
 cles attested it, that when she is unadorned, she is 
 adorned the most. Tell her anything but that, and she 
 is as credulous as a child. She will believe in dreams 
 as sweet as any morning ever marred ; in fables as wild 
 as the vagaries of a mind overthrown. She will believe 
 with the schoolman, that Adam and Eve talked High 
 Dutch in paradise ; with the story teller, that three wise 
 men of Gotham, went to sea in a bowl ; with Joe Night- 
 head, that the mummies of Egypt, with their leathern 
 lips drank brandy cobblers ; with gam Johnson, that 
 ghosts have a commonwealth in purgatory. She will 
 believe the metempsychosian, who tells her the soul of 
 Lucretia gazes from her eyes ; the gipsey, who prophe 
 sies that she will marry an Earl, and never grow old ; 
 the suitor, who swears she is sweeter than honey, and 
 fairer than Hebe. But she never will believe that the 
 ornaments of fashion are not the " sovereignest things 
 on earth." 
 
 But in pursuing this subject, one feels like the hunter, 
 when as he climbs the style, he sees a notice "All per 
 sons are forbid trespassing on these premises." Let us 
 then go softly towards the mysterious precincts of the 
 toilette, and with fear and trembling enter that curious 
 arsenal, where maidenhood arms itself for the battle of 
 love. 
 
 There hangs the list of wounded gallants ; some anti 
 dotes for ennui ; the last dance ; the last music ; the 
 last novel. There are cosmetics by the drawer full ; 
 rouge labeled in French, made of Connecticut brick- 
 dust and warranted to blush in every climate. There 
 is lily whiteness, in a paste composed of chalk ; a row
 
 32 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 of holiday teeth ; nippers to lengthen the eye lashes ; 
 oils to lubricate the hair, and tongs to undulate it. 
 There are extracts from bugs and flowers, to sweeten 
 the breath, and the gloves with perfume ; and essences 
 and drugs for sudden spells of fainting and hysterics. 
 There is the mirror to tell how to place the straggling 
 curl, and hide the naughty mole, and display the laugh 
 ing dimple, and 
 
 " To look delightfully with all the might." 
 
 There is the lady's own book, complete without a 
 teacher showing how the waist should be boddiced ; 
 the parasol handled ; the statuary attitudes ; the Pari 
 sian curtsy ; the prettiest toss of the head, and swing 
 of the train. There are gems for the fingers, and gold 
 for the neck. There are ruflles and ribbons, and laces, 
 and fringes, and flounces, and feathers, and boards, and 
 cords, and cotton, about which we realize the poet's 
 solace, that "ignorance is bliss." 
 
 Yet perhaps they would themselves pardon and favor 
 the opposite precept. 
 
 For we find now and then a woman troubled with 
 the desire to know ! What is most forbidden, she 
 is most anxious to find out. Her curiosity rises 
 and falls in proportion to the secrecy of the object 
 which excites it. The sentence of prohibition re 
 commends the trespass. She risks the dreadful pen 
 alty to taste the fair apples, from which alone she 
 was commanded to abstain. She would not forbear, 
 though it should turn her into salt, from looking behind 
 her on the guilty city. She longed to raise the lid of 
 Pandora's fearful box ; and to lift the silver veil of the
 
 WOMEN. 33 
 
 mysterious prophet of Khorassan. She crossed terri 
 tories to see the wisest of men, and try with him the 
 dazzling foil of wit. She was the first to inquire about 
 stat nominis umbra ; and the author of the papers of 
 Boz. 
 
 She wants to know the latest stranger, and the fresh 
 est news 
 
 " Who's dead, who's broke, who's run away ?" 
 
 Who has just been married, and how they are going to 
 live. She wonders what they are doing at her neigh 
 bor's ; whether the man with the moustache is widowed 
 or wedded, or engaged ; who was at last night's party ; 
 and what will happen next. She would like to know if 
 it is going to rain, and hopes it will not thunder. 
 She would like 
 
 " To know what's what, and that's as high 
 As metaphysic wit can fly." 
 
 All this gives employment to " That delightful engine 
 of her thoughts" that little speaking instrument, which 
 sometimes aids her charms and always her ambition. 
 So with some, loquacity becomes a habit and a nature, 
 which no influence can control. They will suffer per 
 secution they will die at the stake before that small 
 member shall cease and remain quiescent. Though 
 public opinion, though the church command, and one 
 rise from the dead and cry, * silence ' yet on it goes 
 from 
 
 " Morn till noon, irom noon till dewy eve," 
 
 and perhaps through the small hours of the drowsy 
 night.
 
 34 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 In vain have laws been passed against such for bab 
 bling ; and common scolds been placed under the pump. 
 They demand the widest liberty of speech ; they must 
 talk or perish. Perhaps it is this propensity which 
 makes marriage so attractive to some, and unsatisfac 
 tory to others ; which makes it 
 
 " Such a rabble rout, 
 That those who are out, would fain get in, 
 And those who are in, would fain get out." 
 
 But there are, always, serious questions in the matri 
 monial catechism. It would require some ingenuity to 
 calculate the cost of that institution ; to enter into the 
 statistics of marriageable conditions, the metaphysics 
 of choice, the economy of domestic medicine, market 
 ing and furniture. While experience is so various, who 
 will decide ; whether disparity in age, in temper, in 
 worldly means, in social position, in external appear 
 ance, or in substantial merit, is to be regarded or de 
 spised? It is enough, perhaps, that the apostle says, 
 without qualification, that marriage is honorable in all. 
 The wedding brings the novelty of change, and displays 
 to hope interesting pictures of home, fireside and do 
 mestic blessings. But there is the sober fact that dis 
 appointment cannot be cured, and repentance will not 
 redeem. There is the vision of an occasional digression 
 from intra-mural peace, and nightly lectures behind the 
 curtain, where 
 
 " The spouse with skill vibrates her eternal tongue, 
 Forever most divinely in the wrong." 
 
 There is the household burthen a half a score of in 
 fant geniuses, with as many mouths, voracious and vocal.
 
 WOMEN. 35 
 
 There is every Monday, the rush and wrangle of " the 
 red armed washers," who riot in all the hubbub of drabs 
 and starch, and suds, and steam, and tubs, and pots, 
 and fire. There is the milliner's weekly charges ; the 
 butcher's weekly dues ; the doctor's lengthy bill for 
 whooping cough and measles; and perchance, the 
 bailiff's lugubrious shadow periodically darkens the 
 happy husband's door. 
 
 But such connubial experience perhaps chastens the 
 spirit. 
 
 And while there have been Caudles and Xantippes, 
 there have been others " who open the mouth with 
 wisdom, and in whose tongue is the law of kindness." 
 Such was the consort of the learned Budaeus, who 
 shared his studies, revived his energies and stimulated 
 his zeal. Others have shown unshrinking attachment 
 in perilous emergencies, like her 
 
 " Who in his dark prison house, 
 In the terrific face of armed law, 
 Yea, on the scaffold as it needs must be, 
 Never did forsake him." 
 
 Others have illustrated various virtues. 
 
 We see her friendship in the beautiful intercourse of 
 Naomi and Ruth. Her love of country, when the exiled 
 Jewish daughters wept for Zion, and when Volumnia's 
 prayers saved Rome. Her charity, in the gifts and the 
 ministering hand of Dorcas. Her humility, when 
 Mary washed the feet of Christ and wiped them with 
 her hair. Her faith, when Damaris believed Paul on the 
 Areopagus, teaching the Athenians the unknown God. 
 And great was the faith of her who prayed merely for 
 the crumbs of the master's table ; and of her who
 
 36 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 deemed the hem of the Saviour's garment hallowed with 
 healing virtue. And admirable is the conduct of those, 
 who now, bless by their service or their means, the 
 righteous defence of free institutions. Thus, in all cir 
 cumstances, have the sex proved themselves adapted 
 to their position, and fulfilled the great purpose of 
 their mission. 
 
 " Then honor to woman entwining and braiding, 
 Life's garland with roses forever, unfading."
 
 ABBOTSFORD* AND MELROSE. 
 
 Scott has made these localities familiar and famous. 
 We seem to know every crag and moor, every burn and 
 ruin to realize at once his descriptions, tales and his 
 tories. His imagination, like the mirror of the al 
 chemist, makes the past return and the unreal to appear. 
 We witness again the fairy revels, the gory feuds, the 
 harper's lay, the wizard's spells. Here again is the 
 ancient Rymer who Wooed the Elfin queen. Here is 
 the magician whose body casts no shadow, whose word 
 cleft the hills and stayed the flood ; into whose mighty 
 book mortal durst not gaze. The cliffs are again ablaze 
 with beacon fires ; the glens echo with the slogan of the 
 clans, with the tramp of troopers, and the twang of 
 archers' bows. From the broken walls of abbeys come 
 the toll of vesper bells, and the chaunt of beaded friars. 
 The palmer " who has kissed the blessed tomb," wanders 
 again from shrine to shrine, with his scallop shell and 
 faded branch. The old castle hall resounds with pibroch 
 and ballad, and the bold Barons feast on peacock and 
 wild boar. The warder's challenge is shouted from the 
 tower. The heralds post their champions and assert 
 their cause. The dwarf, the page, the palfry with its 
 bells, the maiden with her flowing wimple and her petted 
 hawk, all pass before us. 
 
 (37) 4
 
 38 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 But here, also, all the personal associations of the 
 poet are revived. Beneath yon firs, by the green banks 
 of the silver Tweed, up those devious paths, with staff 
 and hound, he often strayed. There are the heather 
 hills he loved so well. This was his delectable moun 
 tain, from which he glanced over Smailholme tower, 
 Teviotdale and Ettrick shaws, and Yarrow braes, and 
 Gala water. There is the shattered heap of Melrose, 
 with its foliaged window and florid dome, " so sad and 
 fair," which his fancy, like the pale moonlight, has 
 gilded with its silver touch. Amidst the spreading 
 grove stands Abbotsford, his Baronial hall. A quaint 
 odd pile of tower, and battlement, and balcony with 
 old mottoes on the gables, old busts built in the walls, 
 arches and carvings copied from ruins, and heraldic 
 paintings on the windows. A piece of architecture as 
 various, as picturesque and romantic as his genius. 
 
 Within are rare relics from the Ganges, frow New 
 Zealand ; of the days of Alfred, of Wallace ; the pistols 
 of Claverhouse, the gun of Rob Roy, the hunting bottle 
 of James the First, the portraits of Charles the Twelfth 
 of Sweden, and of Cromwell ; ebony chairs from George 
 the Fourth, wall paper painted in China. The library 
 is large. His study contains his armchair, covered with 
 black leather, his writing desk, his canes, his hatchet, 
 his checkered trowsers, his heavy shoes articles more 
 attractive than any which he gathered. 
 
 " But hush'd is the harp, the minstrel gone." 
 
 The rooms are vacant which witnessed his tall form, 
 his cordial cheer, his keen wit, his free laugh, his fond 
 guests, his devoted dogs.
 
 ABBOTSFORD AND MELROSE. 89 
 
 The grounds seem dull and drear. The green trees, 
 the blowing roses, the soft air, suggest nothing but his 
 absence. 
 
 " Call it not vain they do not err 
 Who say that when the poet dies, 
 Mute nature mourns her worshippers, 
 And celebrates his obsequies.',
 
 LORD BROUGHAM. 
 
 The first time I saw Lord Brougham, he was engaged 
 in hearing an appeal. He wore a black frock coat, buff 
 waistcoat, and plaid pantaloons. His appearance re 
 sembled somewhat that of the senior Mr. C. J. Ingersoll, 
 of Philadelphia. His features were stern, and expres 
 sive of confidence, his eyes gray, his mouth large, and 
 he had a peculiar twitch of the muscle at the end of his 
 nose. He was what they call fidgety. He frequently 
 crossed his legs, folded his arms, and changed his 
 position. He often interrupted Dr. Adams, who was 
 arguing a marriage question, and suggested his doabts 
 in a very amusing manner. 
 
 On another occasion, with a card of admission from 
 Mr. Bancroft, I went to the House of Lords. 
 
 This hall is almost a hundred feet long, and half as 
 wide, and half as high. Two rows of red morocco 
 sofas, for the Peers, rise from an aisle in the centre 
 towards the opposite sides. A narrow balcony above is 
 railed in with brass, and supported by elaborately wrought 
 corbels. The walls are wainscoted with ornamented 
 oak. Appropriate paintings fill the lofty windows and 
 compartments. The floor is covered with a luxurious 
 carpet of blue and roses. The paneled roof is exqui 
 sitely carved and colored. The throne is bright with 
 gold, crystal and velvet. The brazen candelabras fling 
 
 (40)
 
 LORD BROUGHAM. 41 
 
 the splendor of a hundred lights over infinite illustrations 
 of the heraldry, the heroism and the glory of England. 
 
 The attendance was full, and the Peers, as usual, sat 
 with their hats on. The French occupancy of Rome 
 was to be discussed. Having reinstated the Papal gov 
 ernment, France still occupied that capital with her 
 troops. This excited the suspicion of other powers. 
 Lord Brougham denounced it. His voice was not musi 
 cal, but full, flexible and strong. He spoke with a 
 fluency not usual amongst Englishmen, who generally, 
 like Lords Palmerston and Russell, hesitate as if for a 
 word or an idea. His manner was natural, and he 
 "suited the action to the word." He had not the dra 
 matic grace of Everett, whose gestures seem to follow 
 his imagination up the shining steps of his golden 
 climax. Nor the trembling fervor of Choate, who 
 appeared to wrestle with the inspiring angel of his 
 nature. Nor the persuasive style of Prentiss, as he 
 touched those sweet notes which, like the heavenly 
 bird's in Swedish fable, made one forget the hours. 
 But his gesticulations were defiant, as if he dared denial 
 or menacing, as if he would force conviction or 
 derisive, as if he disdained dispute. 
 
 Sometimes he pointed with his finger ; sometimes 
 he brought .both hands down in parallel lines, swaying 
 his body forward. He was often very witty, and set 
 the house in a roar. He was generally sarcastic and 
 vehement. He commenced rather abruptly. He ad 
 vanced a step, and elevated his arm as if about to strike 
 a slashing blow with his fist. His voice rose to the 
 loudest pitch, and seemed to shake the fixtures. His 
 sentences poured forth full, round, and rapid as grape
 
 42 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 shot. His countenance, not handsome, became, as it 
 were, grand with rage. He concentrated all eyes stead 
 fastly upon him ; stern old warriors looked as if stirred 
 by a trumpet ; beautiful women leaning over the ban 
 nister, quivered with emotion ; foreigners, who did not 
 understand the language, were excited by his earnest 
 ness ; some reflected in their features every impulse of 
 N the moment, every feeling he uttered, 
 
 " Breathed his passion, echoed his scorn;" 
 
 Some seemed to shrink from him as in fear ; some 
 glowed with admiration. Every person, in one way or 
 another, paid an unconscious tribute to the force and 
 fascination of his eloquence. It was an effort not un 
 worthy of one of the first characters of his time. 
 
 And however much men may call his genius eccentric, 
 because it invades so many departments of knowledge ; 
 and his information superficial, because it is so univer 
 sal ; and depreciate his papers on science, his criticisms 
 in literature, his decisions as chancellor yet none can 
 fairly deny his excellence in what Quintillian describes 
 as true oratory. m>
 
 " Auld Ayr, wham ne'er a town surpasses 
 For honest men and bonnie lasses." 
 
 The appearance of Ayr is not prepossessing. Many 
 of its houses are of stone or clay, one story high, and 
 roofed with straw. The river divides the town, but the 
 streets are not clean. The ocean is at hand, but the 
 air is not sweet. Women drive carts, push wheel 
 barrows, and have yellow hair. People are generally 
 polite, talk with a broad accent, grow tall, incline to 
 believe in ghosts and fairies, and drink hot whiskey 
 punch after dinner. 
 
 The scenery is not grand. The hills are small, the 
 streams narrow, and the sea view is obstructed by the 
 island of Arran. The place is nevertheless attractive. 
 
 Near by, in a small cottage, about twelve by fifteen 
 feet in size, an old woman sells ale, and shows the re 
 cess where, in 1759, Burns was born. His portrait on 
 wood, and the walls, and chairs, and tables, are scrib 
 bled over with pilgrims' names. 
 
 In sight, is " Alloways auld haunted kirk," small 
 and low, with a bell still swinging on one of the steep 
 gables. It has no roof, a plane tree grows within it, 
 the walls are covered with ivy, and pierced with three 
 windows and a door. 
 
 A grave digger, quaint as Hamlet's, pointed out where 
 the mare "Maggie stood right sair astonished," and 
 forward, where Tarn O'Shanter himself was bewildered 
 
 (43)
 
 44 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 at the boisterous frolic of the witches, the roaring storm, 
 the blazing coffins, the bloody banquet, and auld nick, 
 in shape of beast, blowing with might and main, the 
 infernal music. A stone's throw off, is the narrow brig 
 of Doon, now grass grown, over which Tarn fled from the 
 hellish legion, after he expressed his admiration for 
 cutty sark ; and whose key stone cut short her pursuit, 
 his adventure, and Maggie's tail. 
 
 The Burns monument is near, containing his bible, 
 and the inimitable group of Tarn and souter Johnny, 
 by Thorn. 
 
 It was here, by the straying waters, by the haunted 
 ruins, in the harvest, in the market, in the ale house, 
 at the cottar's hearth, by glen and brae, on rock and 
 heather, the bard wooed the muses and the lasses. His 
 humor and pathos, his sense and genius, his sufferings 
 .and his follies, have alone given an enduring interest to 
 the neighborhood of Ayr.
 
 MISAPPLIED INDUSTRY. 
 
 Labor, wisely directed, is the true object of life, and 
 the whole duty of man. 
 
 This is the spirit of the Divine ordinance to which 
 rest is a wholesome exception, and of which sloth is a 
 pernicious infringement. 
 
 The motives to action are as universal as the con 
 ditions and periods, as the senses and faculties of exis 
 tence. Men act from the love of business; to ex 
 tinguish a rooted sorrow, or corroding care ; to avoid 
 the perils of accident or contrivance ; to meet the ne 
 cessities or caprices of life ; to acquire political interest 
 or lasting fame ; to satisfy the cravings of avarice, of 
 vanity, revenge, or pride ; to discharge the grateful 
 offices of charity or faith. 
 
 While every field is occupied, every effort has an in 
 fluence. Nothing, indeed seems too high or mean, or 
 difficult, or doubtful, or dangerous for human endeavor 
 and impression. There is hardly a measure for man's 
 industrial faculty. It creates incumbrances, or sur 
 mounts, or removes them. It achieves, or applies, or 
 destroys results. It strengthens or despoils itself; it 
 fulfills or ruins the purposes of life. 
 
 But it is known only by its exercise, and to be ap 
 proved, it must be employed for salutary ends. The 
 ability which has been perverted, the energies which 
 
 (45)
 
 46 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 mankind have misapplied, might have made the earth 
 as lovely as Eden. History, then, might have been 
 spared the recital of melancholy truths. The world 
 would not have been such a scene of suffering and 
 shame, nor human nature shown such examples of folly. 
 There would not have been witnessed the alternate or 
 combined ascendancy of delusion and discord ; nor the 
 the ceaseless oscillations of opinion, shifting the charac 
 ter of merit, and unfixing the standards of civil obli 
 gation and social order ; nor the terrific ebullitions of 
 public passion, overturning or shaking the organiza 
 tions of force or reason, and scattering abroad corrup 
 tion and disaster. 
 
 If wisdom had always guided the operations of power, 
 its means would have been multiplied, and its results 
 blessed. Man's condition would have been elevated, his 
 happiness promoted ; the blood of armies and the 
 wealth of nations would not have been spent in desper 
 ate struggles in the cause of fanaticism, of rapine or 
 revenge. Gorgeous dwellings would not have been 
 constructed for idol deities, or vain-glorious kings. 
 Monuments would not have been piled up to infamous 
 or obscure names. Costly inclosures would not have 
 been formed for whatever is brutal or trivial, in human 
 exhibition. Garlands, pageants, and protection would not 
 have been prepared for successful tyrants, or fortunate 
 fools. Wild and imaginary theories would not have 
 been pursued without regard to the analogies of nature, 
 or the utilities of life. Learned inquiries would not 
 have been made about phenomena which existed only 
 in dreams; or about futile distinctions of arbitrary 
 signs, and uncertain shadows. If folly had never ruled,
 
 MISAPPLIED INDUSTRY. 47 
 
 vanity would have had no column, no trophies, no vic 
 tims ; superstition would have had no temples ; ambition 
 would have filled no thrones, established no forts, waged 
 no wars. Neither the son of Darius, nor the son of 
 Philip would have crossed the Hellespont ; the one to 
 return like a fugitive, the other to perish in the blaze 
 of an eastern debauch. Athens would have saved the 
 the blood she lavished in the engagements of the Pelo 
 ponnesus. The Punic chieftain would not have accom 
 plished a vengeful oath ; and the invaders would have 
 spared the ancient mistress of the seas. The renown 
 of Mithridates would not have been owing to the num 
 ber of cities he besieged, or dimmed by the overthrow 
 he suffered. Marius would not have turned a parricidal 
 hand against his country, nor repined her wandering 
 exile amidst the desolations of Carthage. Caesar 
 would not have carried terror amongst the tribes of 
 Gaul, nor passed the Rubicon, nor fallen in the capitol. 
 The barbarian hordes would not have swept with fire 
 the fair fields of Italy, nor the streets of the imperial 
 city. 
 
 The wild chief of the Tartars would not have raised 
 a pyramid of human skulls to immortalize his infamy. 
 The Corsican would not have channeled Europe with 
 his camps, to grace his shoulders with the purple, and 
 lift his family up to thrones. 
 
 England would not have turned her cannon against 
 the feeble or the barbarous, to enlarge her possessions, 
 and multiply her markets. The political heresy of 
 secession would not have risen, like a fiend from the 
 stygian vale, with bloody tongue and flaming brand, to
 
 48 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 war against the peace and progress of the great Re 
 public. 
 
 And see what intellect has been engrossed and wasted 
 by schools of sophistry and mystery. When the arts of 
 magic and astrology were cultivated by a class of jug- 
 lers in Chaldea ; whose boasted astronomical observa 
 tions proved the earth the shape of a ship, sailing in 
 an ocean of air. When Zoroaster and his disciples 
 taught flagrant follies, and inculcated the worship of 
 perpetual fire in the Persian temples. When the Gym- 
 nosophists on the Ganges ranked indolence and absti 
 nence the chief duties of life, and the chief virtues of 
 religion. When the learning of the Egyptian and 
 Ethiopian priesthoods was concealed in the mystery of 
 hieroglyphical symbols, and confined to speculations on 
 the spiritual merits of crocodiles and cows. When the 
 Celtic race of Druids veiled their knowledge in the 
 seclusion of caverns and groves, to sustain their mystic 
 order, and their horrid ritual of human sacrifice. 
 
 When reverence was paid to that imposing system of 
 Caballa in the sacred nation, founded on the oriental 
 superstition of emanations from the Deity. When per 
 manence was given to those divisions of the faithful 
 of the Sadducees on the one hand, who insisted on the 
 identity of soul and body, and the mortality of both ; 
 and the Pharisees on the other, who swayed the San 
 hedrim and the Synagogue with the traditionary cor 
 ruptions of the text, and the plausible hypocrisy of 
 forms. When the early Christian fathers mingled spec 
 ulative dogmas with the epistles of apostles and visions 
 of prophets ; or sanctioned absurd fictions ; or the prac 
 tice of allegorical interpretations, or ascetic rules and
 
 MISAPPLIED INDUSTRY. 49 
 
 habits, thus shaking the authority, and confusing the 
 simplicity of the truth revealed. 
 
 And see what labor was lost in those few centuries of 
 darkness, when almost the universal mind seemed in 
 volved in sleep, so profound that it scarcely gave the 
 slightest evidence of its powers. When the written 
 tenets could not always be understood, or read by those 
 ordained to teach them. When the grossest license 
 was granted to the worst propensities ; and the meanest 
 merit disgraced the highest station. When the narrow 
 summary of the trivium and quadrivium was the essence 
 of scholarship ; and the treasures of literature were 
 buried in the dust and cloisters of abbeys ; or burned 
 in the flames which bigotry or barbarism kindled. 
 When the ignorance of Boeotia, and the corruption of 
 Corinth cursed the largest portion of the Christian 
 church. 
 
 And see what ingenuity was misapplied in that later 
 period, when occasional lights glimmered like stars in 
 the gray dusk of morning. When the mind showed 
 signs of awakening consciousness, but seemed laboring 
 under the influence of lingering dreams. When reason 
 resumed her post, but not her office; justified her 
 strength, but not her usefulness ; and was employed in 
 sterile logomachies about a system of scholastic subtle 
 ties. A system which started in the Lyceum of the 
 Peripatetics, was kept alive by the zeal of the rational 
 Mussulmans to defend the authority of the Prophet, and 
 the absurdities of the Koran ; and transmitted, at last, 
 through devious channels, and in an altered guise, to a 
 new order of metaphysical fanatics.
 
 50 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 These, like the erudite devils of Milton, 
 
 ''reasoned high 
 
 Of Providence, foreknowledge, will and fate, 
 Fixed fate, free will, foreknowledge absolute, 
 And found no end in wandering mazes lost." 
 
 Like the Mirror of knighthood, 
 
 " They knew the seat of Paradise, 
 
 Could tell on what degree it lies ; 
 
 *** 
 
 They could reduce all things to acts, 
 And knew their nature by abstracts." 
 
 They waged fierce contests about degrees, properties 
 and forms, the significance and construction of verbiage, 
 the condition and quality of essences, the duration of 
 infinity, the virtue of numbers, the impossibility of mo 
 tion, the contemporaneous and separate existence of 
 individuals and universals, the malleability of music, 
 and the substances of angels and ideas. 
 
 Some seizing hold of irresistible difficulties of human 
 belief, applied them, as a principle of skepticism ; to as 
 sail the foundation of all knowledge. Others, enthusi 
 astically eager to exhibit the intensity of their faith, 
 and mistaking the true mission of the scriptures, re 
 garded them too fondly as the only source and com 
 pendium of universal science. Others, loading the 
 sacred writings with philosophical scholia, made a sys 
 tem of theology which seemed neither human nor divine. 
 Others, rejecting the proprieties of sense and reason, 
 devised schemes which implied their possession of super 
 natural virtues, and named themselves the illuminated 
 of God. And yet all were so imbued with reverence for 
 prescriptive names, that the dogmas of ancient sects 
 predominated in the schools; the Stagirite was more
 
 MISAPPLIED INDUSTRY. 51 
 
 potent than the apostle, and the sacred assemblies often 
 listened to the ethics of Aristotle, instead of the epistles 
 of Paul. 
 
 Thus salutary innovation was checked by those who 
 obtained a catalogue of transcendant titles, and the 
 tribute of posthumous honors, for corrupting language, 
 contriving fallacies, and obscuring truth. They la 
 bored, but, like the athletes, for exhibition. They dis 
 played ability, but accomplished no end. They dis 
 puted, they criticised, they abridged, they compiled, 
 but they did not instruct. They produced books, but 
 not knowledge. They invented theories, but discovered 
 no truths. They sowed the field of intellect, but with 
 mischievous seed. They had a harvest, but it was of 
 thorns and thistles. No useful growth appeared, no 
 flowers bloomed, no fruitage ripened. 
 
 Such instances of misdirected talents are only to be 
 regarded, that they may be avoided. They who would 
 dedicate themselves to worthy purposes, must recognize 
 other standards, and imitate other models. They must 
 not be seduced by the glare of false lights ; nor dis 
 couraged by the failure of false efforts. Every guide is 
 to be shunned, whose rules teach nothing but display ; 
 whose example illustrates everything but virtue ; whose 
 achievements have engendered mischief, or left no mark. 
 
 Every principle is to be discarded which narrows the 
 circle of the sympathies ; which promotes the selfish 
 inclination of the passions ; which militates against the 
 natural evidence of the senses, or the natural sugges 
 tions of the conscience. 
 
 But that is a proper course to pursue which tends to 
 dissipate error, to diminish the force of temptation, to
 
 52 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 increase the attractions and influence of merit, to diffuse 
 the blessings, and enlarge the capacity of rational en 
 joyment. 
 
 Those labors are laudable which promise to explain 
 some phenomena ; apply, develop or improve some use 
 ful principle or agent ; which supersede vicious in 
 dulgence by intellectual productions ; which organize 
 what was scattered or discordant in politics or in morals, 
 giving to both the facilities of system, to concentrate 
 their means and extend their advantage ; which faith 
 fully discharge the salutary requirements of public in 
 terest and responsibility ; which illustrate life by con 
 sistency and benevolence. 
 
 Those characters are to be emulated who, having bene 
 ficially applied great energies, stand prominent and 
 conspicuous the foreground figures in the panorama 
 of the world. They are the aristocracy of history. 
 
 Whatever merit the race can boast of, whatever ad 
 vancement it has made, whatever hopes it may cherish, 
 next to heaven, they are the source and authority of 
 them all. Theirs is the earnest oratory which has 
 gushed from the rostra, the tribune and the pulpit ; the 
 rapturous melody which has dropped like honey from 
 the lips of sweetest bards ; the streams of wisdom which 
 have flowed from the closet and the grove ; the revela 
 tions which have issued from the laboratory, the ob 
 servatory and the cabinet ; the interesting features of 
 the past which graphic pens have delineated ; the faith 
 ful representations embodied on the painter's canvas ; 
 the life-mocking creations of the sculptor ; the glory 
 which wise counsels have shed over communities and 
 nations ; the garland of honor which encircles the heroic
 
 MISAPPLIED INDUSTRY. 53 
 
 patriot's forehead ; the blessings which follow the steps 
 of the philanthropist from hearts his alms have glad 
 dened. 
 
 He who desires to act well his part, must observe 
 such exemplary results ; but he must do more ; he 
 must look behind them, and see how they are evolved. 
 He must go to nature. She has her libraries, her 
 lyceums, her academies. She has no useless volumes, 
 no false professors. Her language is plain, her dogmas 
 orthodox. No incongruities mar the harmony of her 
 system ; no absurdities alloy the value of her precepts. 
 She yields her stores and attractions without reserve or 
 limit. She directs her votaries to her works to the 
 universal evidence of life ; to the infinite combination 
 of materials ; the diversity of forms ; the mingling of 
 colors ; the diapason of sounds ; the variety of relations ; 
 the re-invigorating principle of change. 
 
 She exhibits the marvelous union of flesh and spirit ; 
 their distinct spheres and characters ; their separate 
 capacities of pleasure, and pain, and usefulness ; their 
 different standards of merit and reward ; their adverse 
 and opposite inclinations ; their disproportionate influ 
 ence and destiny. How the one is enduring and un 
 seen ; the other transient and visible. How the one acts 
 by contact; the other without it. How the one ranges 
 over the past, the distant and the future ; and the other 
 is restricted to the present and the near. And how 
 they yet co-exist, and are mutually dependent and rer 
 ciprocal. How the mind secures the impressions which 
 the sense presents; abstracts, compares, and represents 
 them in imaginary forms and clusters. How the pas 
 sions and the reason struggle, and then harmonize; con-
 
 54 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 trol the conduct ; shed lights and shadows, gay scenes 
 and sad, over the pathway of life. 
 
 Nature points from these, from time and its relations, 
 to her great first cause and author. 
 
 Let the student docile listen to His words. They 
 teach what oracles could not tell, what philosophy 
 could not prove mortal origin and destiny. They 
 promise what has no other source wisdom undefiled. 
 
 That wisdom is adapted to every era and locality, 
 and every stage of existence. But it is especially ap 
 propriate to that early period, which preceeds the draw 
 ing nigh of evil days ; when the nature is pliahle and 
 plastic, and the affections fresh and warm; when the 
 spirits briskly flow, and the blood dances in its chan 
 nels ; when the thoughts are unshackled by the chains 
 of habit, and the heart is unhardened by accummula- 
 ted sin ; before the memory is stuffed with loathsome re 
 collections, and the attention is deadened to impressions 
 by the multiplicity of cares ; before disappointment has 
 chilled the ardor of hope, and injuries roused the vin- 
 dictiveness of passion ; before misfortune's bitter chalice 
 has been tasted, and the frame and faculties droop with 
 the debilities of age ; before the day is far spent ; be 
 fore the morning dews are dried, and the bloom is wilted 
 by tl}e heat of noon learn then that wisdom to which 
 all otfyer things shall be added. It can mould the early 
 attributes toward good, ar^d counteract the besetting 
 solicitations, and easy opportunities of evil. It smooths 
 the rough, and enlightens the dark places of life. It is 
 a friend that sticketh closer than a brother. It avails
 
 MISAPPLIED INDUSTRY. 55 
 
 more than human learning. It is dearer than rubies, 
 stronger than the sword, fairer than flowers. It is 
 lasting. But faith shall be absorbed in sight, prophe 
 cies fail, laurels wither, power decay, earth fade, death 
 shall gather his last harvest, and "the dissolution of all 
 things shall ripen." But the wisdom which cometh 
 from above, shall endure in more radiant regions the 
 source of sweeter pleasures, and holier raptures than 
 the eye hath seen, or the ear heard, or the heart dreamed. 
 
 He who has studied the past, the real and the pure 
 with diligence who has strayed "by the flowery brooks 
 that wash the hallowed feet of Zion," has made no un 
 worthy preparation for the eventful age we live in. An 
 age in which peace and war alike, shall, have their vic 
 tories. 
 
 Some great transitional period, some culminating 
 point in secular history, or prophetical development 
 seems to be at hand. Extraordinary indications ; signs 
 in the heavens ; the expectations of the church, sug 
 gest such an opinion. Distrust, discontent, and impa- 
 patience of restraint pervade society. There is a ten 
 dency to social and political disorganization. There is 
 the threatened disruption of empires and republics. 
 There is the passionate inclination for the sword the 
 gathering of armies and navies the occasional roar of 
 battle, and the steady preparation for universal war. 
 Such opportunities, such incentives to good and evil, 
 were never before offered to ambition. 
 
 But whoever would discharge his duty, must have a 
 proper estimate of his powers must exercise unflagging
 
 56 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 patience and absorbing energy must remember that 
 devotion to country and to freedom, are cardinal obliga 
 tions that the cause of truth must ultimately triumph 
 that the temple of Virtue is always the vestibule to 
 the temple of Glory.
 
 A TRIP IN IRELAND. 
 
 Having landed in Belfast, we passed through a fine 
 district, mostly level, sometimes rough and rocky, 
 through Drogheda, with its tall towers and frowning 
 gateway ; across the Boyne, once stained by battle ; 
 along the sea shore to Dublin. Here is one of the 
 finest streets in the world, wide, straight, and lined 
 with elegant houses. At one end is Nelson's pillar, at 
 the other, across the Liffey, College Green. 
 
 The way was crowded there were ragged men, bare 
 footed women, dirty boys, servants and constables in 
 livery, gentlemen mounted, carriages and windows filled 
 with handsome ladies, flags flying from house tops, 
 arches gilded with beautiful devices and brave words ; 
 and the noise of the surging throng was like the roar 
 of a distant storm. A small woman, with a sharp, 
 ruddy face, sat in a vehicle, bowing on both sides as 
 she passed. It was the British Queen, leaving the city 
 amidst the curiosity and the acclamations of the Irish. 
 
 We spent many pleasant days in this interesting cap 
 ital, teeming with wit and beauty. 
 
 "A Christian before baggage," said the conductor, 
 as he cleared me a seat in the car. We passed through 
 a valley stretching towards the horizon, vast and even 
 as a prairie. The harvest was ripe for the sickle. 
 The oats waved their luxuriant tops for miles. The 
 
 (57)
 
 58 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 barley, with its streaming beard, flashed like silk in 
 the sun. The reapers were already "filling their 
 bosoms" with the wheat, and here and there, it was 
 heaped together like stacks of gold. The meadows, 
 fresh with living grass, were feeding armies of cattle. 
 The air was pure and sweet as morning. Every thing 
 was beautiful and joyous. One felt glad and grateful, 
 and was ready to cry out 
 
 " Oh ! Christ ! it is a goodly sight to see, 
 
 What heaven hath done for this delicious land !" 
 
 But the panorama moves on, and the picture fades 
 gradually away. The scene is changed to a dreary flat, 
 black as pitch, as if it had been charred by a storm of 
 fire. It is painfully sterile, without a bush or weed in 
 view. It is one of the bog fields with its treasures of 
 peat, the grave of forests older, as my Irish neighbor 
 said, than creation. Trees have been taken out ten 
 and twelve feet beneath the surface, hard and tough as 
 metal. But the soil itself is fuel, and is cut with 
 knives in the shape of bricks, which are piled in pyra 
 mids to dry. Huts are occasionally seen in the form 
 of mud ovens, some with, and some without windows ; 
 with no floor but the ground, and no chimney but the 
 door. In such places, diseased, destitute and desperate, 
 many wretched creatures live and die. Some of them 
 imputed their misfortune to that terrible visitation of 
 eighteen forty-six, which (said an eye witness) lined 
 the road sides with the carrion of the starved. A 
 woman, coming over the rugged plain in her fluttering 
 rags, seemed like the very genius of poverty. She had 
 no shoes, no bonnet, and her hair streamed like a pen-
 
 A TRIP IN IRELAND. 59 
 
 nant ; her tall figure was scarcely half clad ; her voice 
 was plaintive as misery itself, as she asked us "A 
 ha-penny for the love of God;" and blessed us with a 
 beggar's prayer. 
 
 Every stopping place in the south and west was 
 crowded by clamorous mendicants crippled, blind, de 
 formed and sick. There was a mother with an infant, 
 whose face was shriveled as if by age a man without 
 legs, walking on his hands a girl disfigured and dis 
 gusting as a leper. All were brown with accumulated 
 filth, and patched with rags, various in kind and color, 
 hanging about them loose as leaves. 
 
 It was both pitiable and picturesque, and affected the 
 imagination and the heart. One was entertained by 
 the diversity of tatters, features and condition; but it 
 was impossible not to feel the conviction of want, and 
 the necessity of alms. 
 
 Our course came at last to a still wilder country, as 
 we approached the sea. 
 
 Hills rose up, covered with plantations of firs, or bare 
 with rocks, or crowned with the ivied walls of old feudal 
 castles. Here and there was an old abbey on the 
 plain ; or a " round tower" eighty feet high, distracting 
 the learned with the mystery of its origin and purpose. 
 We went through a little village, a few hovels were on 
 the wayside. The children were playing in the pud 
 dles ; the doors were open ; and the pig walked in and 
 out with the authority of a proprietor or partner, 
 "switching his tail, as a gentleman switches his cane." 
 He has the freedom of the cot, as other benefactors 
 have the freedom of a city.
 
 60 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 The cholera, raging violently in Cork, prevented an 
 extended stay in that city, celebrated for its harbor and 
 its markets, 
 
 And its bells of Shandon, 
 That sound so grand on - 
 The pleasant waters 
 
 Of the river Lee." 
 
 Kinsale is one of the old towns, with narrow streets, 
 a Spanish ruin, and a battle field. Cork was once de 
 scribed as being near to it. The description is now 
 reversed. 
 
 The first Lord Kinsale gave his name to the place. 
 It is said that in a trial of strength, he drew the sabre 
 of his adversary from the log, and buried his own so 
 deep, that no one but himself could remove it. 
 
 He was then, as the King's champion, authorized to 
 make any three demands. Accordingly he was allowed 
 to wear his hat in the King's presence to have a plate 
 and stool placed for him every day at the King's table 
 to have in fee all the land he could, in one day, ride 
 over on horseback. He, however, traversed only five 
 or six miles, as some of his enemies got him intoxicated 
 at Ballanspittle, which fixed at once, the limits of his 
 excursion and estate. 
 
 Not far from the town, are the mansions of J. Red 
 mond Barry and J. B. Gibbons, Esquires, whose houses, 
 like "Marathon, look on the sea." They were most hos 
 pitable, and declared : " that during the famine, the Ches 
 ter county donation of meal was the best which came 
 to Ireland, and that it saved a thousand lives." The 
 destitution had been frightful ; there was neither food 
 nor money ; the people were terror stricken, and these
 
 A TRIP IN IRELAND. 61 
 
 provisions arrived at the very crisis of the calamity. 
 For this timely succor, the Irish of Ballanspittle will 
 ever gratefully remember the county of Chester. 
 
 Those gentlemen, years ago, had been extremely kind, 
 when the good ship, Albion, was wrecked upon their 
 coast. They showed me the scene of that disaster ; 
 and the rock from which my father, the only cabin 
 passenger saved, was hoisted to the bank. It is a peri 
 lous place, even in fair weather ; the waves wash over 
 it ; and the iron sides of the shore, bare and precipitous 
 to a prodigious depth, make it fearful, 
 
 " And dizzy * to cast one's eyes so low."
 
 SHAM SMUGGLER 
 
 The following incident which happened to Mr. B., as 
 he arrived in London, illustrates some of the tricks of 
 swindlers. 
 
 He was gazing about the Tower, musing on the histori 
 cal crimes and sufferings, of which that London Bastile 
 had been the scene. A person dressed like a sailor, 
 came up, saying : " Excuse me sir, would you like to buy 
 some real Havana segars ?" Such applications had been 
 disregarded before ; but as he mentioned the word dol 
 lars, and asserted himself an American from Bangor ; 
 B., with a throb of patriotism, and an appetite in the 
 premises, went with him. They crossed several streets, 
 through by-ways, and a dingy court, and a sort of bar 
 room, into a small private chamber, furnished with a red 
 bench and table. The establishment was the resort of 
 the lowest order of society. 
 
 Having bought a handful of segars, he was about leav 
 ing, when the other called in a comrade with a sinister 
 eye, rough red hair, and the complexion of a convict. 
 This individual represented that he had lately landed 
 from China, after a long voyage ; that he had spent his 
 funds ; owed for board ; and desired therefore to sell a 
 soft white cashmere shawl, which, with other things, he 
 had purchased in Canton for his sister. On account of 
 his importunities, and as he would certainly refuse such 
 
 (62)
 
 SHAM SMUGGLERS. 63 
 
 a trifle, B., offered him two pounds for it. Considering 
 that he asked fifteen, the former was astonished at the 
 alacrity with which he sacrificed the difference. They 
 then entered, by a crooked alley, another place which 
 seemed like a depot, ^for stolen goods ; where getting 
 silver for a note B. paid him. The other then immedi 
 ately wanted to sell for the same sum, a similar shawl, 
 a dozen linen handkerchiefs, a silk vest pattern, and a 
 gold chain wrapt in a rag. Without examining the 
 articles ; without any use for them ; with a growing 
 suspicion that the fellow was a smuggler ; with some 
 sympathy for his well acted distress, and much impati 
 ence to get away; B. paid the price, crammed them 
 in his hat and pockets, and resolutely left. When he 
 was ruminating in his lodgings on the fatuity with which 
 he had been decoyed into quarters not very safe, and into 
 a purchase of doubtful propriety ; he noticed that the rag 
 around the watch guard was stained with blood. He 
 was confounded by the discovery by the horrible asso 
 ciation of blood and gold by the predicament in which 
 it placed him. Every circumstance which he could re 
 call, confirmed the worst conjectures. That mean ruffian 
 face, those vile haunts, the rich stuffs, the paltry price, 
 the absurd story, came up like witnesses of crime. Some 
 cruel murder must have made those fatal stains. These 
 pretended sailors must be some obdurate villains, who 
 had slain and plundered. These articles were the spoils 
 of guilt. This unwitnessed purchase relieved them, and 
 imposed on him the responsibility of possession. He 
 felt instantly that he was burthened with all the conse 
 quences of the transaction. He alone perhaps, had the 
 evidence of some vile deed.
 
 64 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 It was a miserable secret. Like the Spartan's fox, it 
 could not be exposed without shame, nor concealed 
 without distress. Silence would make him a wilful ac 
 complice publication might cause him to be accused as 
 one. w 
 
 He had no friend to consult. He could not trust a 
 stranger. A magistrate could not be informed without 
 detaining him as a prisoner or a witness. Yet the of 
 fence must soon be discovered ; the parties perhaps 
 arrested. He would then be implicated, described, 
 advertised as a criminal, pursued by the police. 
 
 Embarrassed by these reflections, he searched the 
 newspapers for some clue to the mystery. For days he 
 did not venture into the street, lest he might be recog 
 nized. He feared every ring of the bell, and every sound 
 on the stairs. 
 
 At one time he intended to communicate the affair to 
 the Times, but weeks might elapse without an answer. 
 At last he inclosed the articles with an anonymous note 
 to a bailiff, and at dusk went cautiously out to mail them. 
 But the scheme failed, the package was too large to be 
 admitted into the post box ; and disappointed he returned 
 to a restless pillow and to evil dreams. Nearly a week had 
 been lost. Anxiety had preyed upon his spirits, and 
 disturbed his health. On another evening however, 
 after the usual hour of rest, he arranged the package 
 under his coat, and wandered forth to throw it into some 
 basement window or balcony. He envied as he passed 
 numerous parties, who yet lingered, laughing and chat 
 ting beneath the bright gas and stars. Weary and nervous, 
 searching for a spot where he could deposit the bundle 
 unseen, he went on for squares. He had reached a
 
 SHAM SMUGGLERS. 65 
 
 building with an iron inclosure in front ; and as no one 
 was in sight, he was about to toss the package behind 
 it. Just then a person stepped suddenly around the 
 corner, and gazed on him carefully. He had observed 
 the same one soon after he started out ; he was manifest 
 ly a policeman in plain clothes, who had been attracted 
 by his manner, ot the distended appearance of his coat. 
 Hurrying forward he knew not whither, through lanes 
 and cross streets, perspiring with exercise and emotion, 
 he came at length to an unfrequented place on the out 
 skirts of the city. He breathed more freely, he was 
 congratulating himself on success, rebuking himself for 
 idle fears ; when hearing steps behind, he turned, and 
 beheld, with increased alarm, the same person. 
 
 He immediately determined to return to his lodgings. 
 Taking a circuitous direction, he hastened along without 
 stopping, faint and weary, for a mile or more. It was 
 midnight ; and avoiding as much as possible the regular 
 watchmen, he chose the most dimly lighted streets. 
 The silence was only broken by his own foot-fall, echoing 
 loud enough, it seemed to wake the city. He was 
 ignorant of his bearings, until he found himself before 
 the frowning walls of Newgate prison. The grated 
 windows and dull gray stones almost made him shudder, 
 as they appeared to look down with a kind of ominous 
 triumph. 
 
 Turning aside again into the first alley, he was soon 
 crossing a deep trench, lately dug for a sewer. The 
 distant lantern shed a dull twilight over it. Tempted 
 by this fortunate opportunity, he was hesitating again, 
 when the shadow of some one attracted his notice. His 
 pursuer had stopped near the light, and cast a menacing
 
 66 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 look upon him as he passed. He followed him then 
 directly ; was always near him ; sometimes behind, some 
 times before him ; halted when he did ; walked slow and 
 fast as he did ; and eyed him with insolence. Self respect 
 could endure no more ; and B. then turned and advanced 
 upon him with resolution and defiance. The watcher 
 retired, believed himself mistaken and disappeared. B, 
 got back to his room, unmolested but unsuccessful. 
 His last adventure was dangerous indeed. Had he 
 been seen throwing away that package, his worst fears 
 would have been realized. It would have been impos 
 sible to have satisfied the witness of his innocence ; 
 and for that night at least, perhaps for many others, 
 he must have endured a prison. 
 
 Though exhausted and prostrated, he retired with some 
 satisfaction, for having escaped the consequence of this 
 blundering excursion. 
 
 Another morning still found him in possession of the 
 cursed purchase, which seemed to cleave to him like the 
 fabled gift of Nessus. Defeated in all his plans, his 
 distress noticed by his landlord, he on inquiry divulged 
 to him at once all the facts. Having called his wife, 
 they looked at the articles, asked the cost, and to his 
 surprise and relief, burst out a laughing. These shawls 
 were made in Manchester, and the price is seven shil 
 lings these handkerchiefs are cotton this vesting is 
 not silk this light chain is galvanized brass this rag is 
 stained on purpose. 
 
 Those men were the agents of swindling shops ; they 
 take such methods to make an impression that their 
 articles are cheap. It seems they study human nature 
 closely. They play upon the imagination. They invest
 
 SHAM SMUGGLERS. 67 
 
 their dealings with a degree of mystery, to excite an 
 interest. They assume to be sailors in order to avail 
 themselves of the attractions of that character. They 
 trust to the natural sympathy of landsmen for those who 
 brave the seas. They rely on the universal love of ro 
 mance ; on that fascination which attaches to a reckless 
 heroism, by which the smuggler's offence is overshadowed 
 by his courage and his perils. They elicit one's con 
 fidence by silently depending on his honor. They make 
 him a customer by adroitly enlisting his sensibilities. 
 Thus was he beguiled. He was yet glad to know that 
 none had been injured but himself. That fact lifted a 
 burthen from his conscience. It was like the cheerful 
 daylight dispelling a dreadful dream.
 
 PARIS. 
 
 Some years ago, while in Paris, my window fronted 
 on the Boulevards. That street is an entertaining show. 
 The throng pours incessantly along, exhaustless as a 
 river, promiscuous as a world. On they move far up, 
 far down all day, all night fast and slow crossing, 
 turning, passing interminable as a circle a proces 
 sion without a van, and without a rear. All classes and 
 characters infants and women, dotards and cripples, 
 traders and travellers, rogues and Christians, mingled 
 together, on foot, on horses, in vehicles laughing, 
 talking, dreaming ; seeking pleasure, money, knowledge, 
 mischief, fame. The policeman with blue uniform, 
 white buttons, moustache, cocked hat, sword and the 
 conscious air of office. Soldiers in different garbs, 
 colored like the spirits in the play, marching in bat 
 talions, or strolling in couples, listless as children. 
 Political aspirants, speculating on place and suffrage, 
 on times and seasons. Legitimists, praying for the day 
 which should crown the lineal Bourbon. Socialists, 
 panting for the triumph of the blouses and the barri 
 cades. Orleanists, scheming to re-build the constitu 
 tional throne. Bonapartists, anticipating the restora 
 tion of the Empire. True Republicans, fearing, with 
 good reason, that those liberty trees at the corners 
 would bear no fruit, that "their roots would wither, 
 
 (68)
 
 PARIS. 69 
 
 and their blossoms go up as dust." There is the flower 
 girl with her gipsey hat and olive face, singing and 
 selling her fragrant wares. 
 
 There goes the Englishman, stout and ruddy from 
 ale and beefsteak, with his guide book and um 
 brella, essential as his clothes. The American, all 
 in black, with segar and cane still vain of his 
 own Republic. The German, with heavy brow and 
 beard, perhaps a fugitive scholar from Bonn or Hei 
 delberg. The Jew, still unfairly described as faith 
 ful to his Sabbath and to Mammon, ready to bargain 
 with kings or thieves. The solemn Moslem, in his tur 
 ban and flowing robes. The negro, with tangled hair 
 and "trimly dressed," perhaps a colonial representative 
 of France. The Priest, in dark gown and upturned 
 chapeau the sister, with her beads and silver cross 
 the student, in his semi-military coat the seamstress, 
 without a bonnet the hackman, with a gilded band 
 upon his hat the porter, with a medal the postman, 
 with leathern sack and crimson collar the laborer, in 
 blue shirt the dandy, in white vest the mourner, in 
 her weeds. 
 
 They are wending in all directions, on the wide pave 
 ment, beneath the arching trees, by the tall white 
 houses, by the shop windows brilliant with jewelry 
 and glass ; by stalls filled with pictures of the Empire 
 and Napoleon ; by restaurants and cafes, where women 
 are clerks, and both sexes feed on scientific soups, or 
 indulge in smoke, coffee and cogniac ; by the monu 
 mental gates of Saint Martin and Saint Denis, asso 
 ciated with foreign victories and the barricades ; by the 
 classic columns of La Madeline, designed for glory and
 
 70 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 appropriated to religion. Towards the Place Vendome, 
 and its shaft of captured cannon, pictured with battles, 
 and crowned with a colossal figure of the Emperor in 
 his favorite costume ; towards the Place de la Concorde, 
 once stained with royal blood, now adorned with exotic 
 flowers, with lanterns and fountains, and a monolith 
 from Thebes ; towards the Champs Elysees, animated 
 with spectacles, and games, and music, and merry as a 
 fair. To the marble arc of triumph, sculptured with the 
 martial history of the nation ; to the Champs de Mars, 
 the scene of political festivals, and the sham-fights and 
 reviews of armies ; to the Hospital of Invalids, where 
 the scarred veterans guard the dust of their great cap 
 tain ; to the National Assembly, to hear the historian 
 of the consulate, or a greater, the historian of the 
 Gironde. To the Bourse, within whose half a hundred 
 Corinthian columns, blind fortune turns her delusive 
 wheel ; to the Palaces, with their sumptuous furniture 
 and innumerable decorations of art and curiosity ; to 
 the Court, where M. Berryer enchains his listeners with 
 rare eloquence ; to the Conciergerie, whose gloomy 
 gates closed on Marie Antoinette, and whose tocsin 
 sounded the fatal eve of St. Bartholomew ; to the Pan 
 theon, suggested by a woman, sacred to the great, con 
 taining the tombs of Lannes, of Rousseau, of Voltaire ; 
 to Notre Dame, where the captive Pope crowned the 
 soldier of fortune. To the Hotel de Ville, where Robe 
 spierre held his councils where poor Louis assumed 
 the red cap where La Fayette presented the Duke of 
 Orleans to the people where Lamartine with words of 
 inspiration exorcised the fury of the mob. To the eques 
 trian statue of the great Henry, on the spot where
 
 PARIS. 71 
 
 templars were burned for sorcery ; to the remains of 
 the Temple, once a stronghold of crusaders, and the last 
 prison of Louis the Sixteenth ; to the Garden of Plants, 
 enriched by Buffon, Cuvier, and others, with specimens 
 from every department of natural history ; to the metal 
 column of July, over the site of the Bastile, and the 
 bones of its destroyers ; to La Morgue, to see the last 
 corpse found in the street, or in the Seine ; to the news 
 room, to read the last page of history. 

 
 JUDGE STORY. 
 
 Omnes ex omni cetate, qui in Jiac civitate intelligentiam 
 juris habuerunt, si unum in locum conferantur, cum eo 
 non sunt comparandi. Cic. 
 
 .Judge Story was of moderate height, with regular 
 features, and an amiable expression of countenance. 
 His forehead was broad and high, and increased by his 
 baldness. His nose was slightly aquiline, his cheeks 
 neither lank nor full, his mouth handsome ; the little 
 hair on his temples was of a sandy color, and his com 
 plexion of a sanguine hue. His head was compact and 
 symmetrical. He was very active. His step was quick 
 he drove fast he was always in a hurry, and yet 
 always unaffectedly courteous. His presence inspired 
 cheerfulness, and you could see gratification in every 
 face, the moment he appeared. He was extremely fas 
 cinating to young men. He met them with a sweet 
 smile and a kind voice. He grasped both their hands, 
 with a warm pressure. Sometimes he would lay his 
 arm on one's shoulder. 
 
 He was an incomparable law lecturer ; all the variety 
 of an intellectual entertainment he shed over that dry 
 subject. He scarcely got seated before he commenced ; 
 and without notes, continued in a delightful, flowing 
 manner, retaining universal attention till he closed. 
 
 (72)
 
 JUDGE STORY. 73 
 
 His discourse teemed with humorous anecdotes, and 
 literature. When something recalled to his mind an 
 incident at the the bar, or a peculiarity of a great charac 
 ter, he would describe a scene or a speech, or repeat a 
 sentence or a gesture, with enthusiasm. Sometimes 
 becoming excited by the course of his thoughts, he 
 grew theatrical, gesticulated with vehemence, partly 
 rose from his seat, and spoke with wonderful rapidity 
 and eloquence. 
 
 Devoted to the law, he was fond of light reading. 
 
 He referred to himself (which he seldom did) as hav 
 ing written verses, when he was young, but no poetry. 
 He excused himself once for not being punctual, by 
 saying ; that he was unconsciously delayed by an inter 
 esting article in Blackwood. He told, with some proper 
 pride, that, when in the Massachusetts Legislature, he 
 was instrumental in increasing the salary of Chief Jus 
 tice Parsons, whose judicial ability he could hardly 
 sufficiently praise. 
 
 And he assumed reasonable credit for having done 
 his duty, in deciding the first cause before him, against 
 the influence of the government, which placed him at 
 thirty-three years of age, on the Supreme Bench of the 
 United States. 
 
 One day, when interrupted in his lecture by the 
 passing of a volunteer company, with a band of music, 
 he good humoredly said from Cicero " Silent leges in 
 ter arma." He frequently referred, with admiration, 
 to the gigantic mind of Jeremiah Mason ; of whom 
 Webster said, dig as deep as you will, Jerry will dig 
 deeper. He lamented the death, at an early age, of 
 Hugh Legare, of South Carolina, whom he considered 
 
 7
 
 74 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 a ripe scholar, and the best civil lawyer at the American 
 bar. 
 
 He remarked that a lawyer's first duty was to his 
 God, the next to the law, the next to his client. 
 
 He said Luther Martin distinguished himself in the 
 trial of Judge Chase, before the Senate. That when 
 he came to reply to John Randolph, a splendid orator, 
 but no lawyer, and who was chief manager of the im 
 peachment for the House of Representatives ; he utterly 
 scattered and demolished all his positions. And so the 
 lawyers, succeeded then just as Mr. Law and others did 
 in the trial of Hastings. Judge Story said he studied 
 law under Chief Justice Sewall, who told him that 
 whenever he had a cause of importance, he commenced 
 his investigations with Blackstone. 
 
 He said of William Pinckney, of Maryland ; that he 
 was very attentive to dress, generally carried a switch, 
 wore tights and gloves, and came in that style into 
 Court. That he appeared anxious to avoid the reputa 
 tion of having studied ; and on the evening before he 
 had a cause to argue, generally contrived to attend, for 
 a while, some entertainment ; and afterwards devoted 
 the rest of the night to his preparation. But yet to a 
 friend who expostulated with him on his injurious atten 
 tion to business, he replied; that " it was only by great 
 labor he had won his position at the Bar that it was 
 dearer to him than life, and ; "By G-d ! he would die to 
 maintain it." 
 
 Pinckney was but a boy when Judge Chase took him 
 into his office ; and when he was sent by Washington 
 as Commissioner to England, he attended the Courts of 
 Westminster for six years. On one occasion, in com-
 
 JUDGE STORY. 75 
 
 pany, and not knowing Greek, he was quite confounded 
 by an argument respecting a passage in Euripides. 
 From that time he studied the classics. He had a won 
 derful memory, and mastered every subject he touched. 
 He was learned in every branch of the law. He had a 
 guttural voice, but the most beautiful and peculiarly 
 expressive diction. 
 
 He was an honest lawyer to the court, the law and 
 his client. Chief Justice Marshall remarked to him 
 (Story) that Pinckney was the most powerful reasoner 
 he ever met. 
 
 One day Judge Story said of Judge Chase, that he 
 was a large, broad, six foot man, for all the world like 
 Dr. Johnson ; gruff and impatient of long arguments. 
 A lawyer once said to him, "I am going to make five 
 points." "Good G-d !" exclaimed Judge Chase, "five 
 points!" After hearing them, he said, "they are good 
 for nothing," and would allow only two of them to be 
 discussed. Another time*, he dismissed all the points, 
 and decided in favor of the counsel on a ground he had 
 not noticed. Once Luther Martin convinced him of an 
 error. He had a far reaching perception, and saw con 
 clusions at a glance. At Washington, when I (Judge 
 Story) was a young man, I boarded with him. On 
 leaving, he took hold of my hands and said : " I would 
 that I had seen more of you, or had never seen you," 
 and burst into tears. 
 
 Another time, Judge Story described Chief Justice 
 Parsons, of Massachusetts, as one of the greatest 
 judges ; he was at home in the sciences ; had a famous 
 wit, which enlightened, but never scorched ; and was 
 fond of ladies' company, who admired him, though he
 
 76 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 was by no means handsome. Like Chief Justice Mar 
 shall, who was the closest reasoner I (Judge Story) ever 
 met; he loved novels, and found as much pleasure in the 
 law as in a romance, and as much pleasure in a romance 
 as in the law. 
 
 Another day, Judge Story speaking of the Girard 
 case, in which he had delivered the judgment of the 
 Court, said: " Mr. H. Binney was perfect master of the 
 subject. He had been, perhaps, studying it for a year; 
 had long before given an opinion in favor of the validity 
 of the will. He came to the task incited, no doubt, by 
 the desire of sustaining his former conclusion ; and by 
 the fact of having to contend against one of the first 
 minds of the age in the highest tribunal of the land." 
 Mr. Webster represented the heirs. The Judge, in 
 illustration of Mr. Binney 's thoroughness of preparation, 
 said he himself had discovered certain reports of cases 
 very pertinent to the gist of the cause ; and which he 
 thought no one but himself had noticed, and took them 
 to his room to look over. Mr. Binney, however, in 
 quired of the Librarian for the book, who directed him 
 to Judge Story, as most likely to have any stray 
 volume. The reading of these reports took Mr. Web 
 ster by surprise. Both Mr. Binney and Mr. Webster, 
 he said, made great speeches, worthy of Westminster 
 Hall in her best days. But Mr. Binney delivered the 
 law argument ; which answered all the requirements of 
 criticism, satisfied the highest legal taste, and influenced 
 the result. While part of it, which lasted for about a 
 half of an hour, was so finished and beautiful, so sub 
 dued and powerful, that the Judges, after he concluded 
 it, looked at one another and smiled. He added, that
 
 JUDGE STORY. 77 
 
 it must have certainly been written and committed to 
 memory. 
 
 Judge Story, at another time, alluded to Alexander 
 Hamilton as an extraordinary man ; one of the great 
 intellects in history ; capable of resolving the most 
 important questions, and happily qualified for the in 
 auguration of a new government. When General 
 Washington had some scruples as to the constitution 
 ality of a United States Bank, he applied to Hamilton 
 to remove them. The President then lived in Phila 
 delphia, and his Secretary went to the house of William 
 Lewis, an eminent lawyer in the height of his fame. 
 Having stated the object of his visit, they stepped out 
 to Mr. Lewis' garden, and in a peripatetic consultation, 
 enduring the afternoon, weighed the question in all its 
 possible relations. Hamilton then returned home, ask 
 ed his wife for a cup of strong coffee, as he intended to 
 sit up all night. The next morning, he handed the 
 President a written argument, sustaining the constitu 
 tionality of the Bank, which was satisfactory. There 
 has been, continued the Judge, nothing since said or 
 written on that subject ; on the bench, or at the bar, in 
 Congress, or in newspapers, which is not contained in 
 that narcotic and nocturnal paper of Alexander Hamil 
 ton. 
 
 The Judge once spoke of the elder John Adams as a 
 lawyer ; who, when Vice President, was appealed to for 
 his opinion on the force of the "common law" in this 
 country. He at once declared that it existed of neces 
 sity. That as far as consistent with our condition, it 
 was operative of course, for it was assumed as the basis 
 of our legislation.
 
 78 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 On another occasion the Judge referred to the Dart 
 mouth College case, which excited very general interest. 
 Mr. Webster, said he, who wields the club of Hercules 
 entwined with flowers ; appeared then for the first time 
 in the Supreme Court. His fame preceded him. Wil 
 liam Wirt was his opponent, "arcades ambo." The 
 Court room was filled with the aristocracy of office, 
 talent, beauty and gallantry, such as the Capital of the 
 country could furnish soldiers who had been in battle 
 Ambassadors from Europe members of the Cabinet 
 members of Congress and elegant women who crowded 
 around the sitting Judges, and almost allured them from 
 their dignity and their chairs. When Mr. Webster 
 rose, he began in a low tone, and said ; that he appeared 
 in behalf of a poor Indian School ; to repay the debt of 
 gratitude imposed upon his youth ; and to use in defence 
 of his Alma Mater the arms she gave him. He then 
 went on, gradually increasing in energy and eloquence ; 
 his voice growing clearer and deeper ; his gestures be 
 coming more animated ; his face more expressive ; his 
 language more passionate. The veins upon his forehead 
 swelled like cords ; his eyes flashed fire ; his whole body 
 seemed possessed by his awakened genius ; his spirit 
 pervaded the hall like a superior influence ; and he car 
 ried away the Judges, the Bar and the crowd ; left nearly 
 every eye in tears ; while one military man blubbered 
 right out. Mr. Wirt had attempted to take notes, but 
 his susceptibilities were overcome ; he repeatedly threw 
 the pen down, and at last in despair, lifting up his head 
 towards the speaker ; resigned himself to the irresistible 
 spell, When he came to reply ; he confessed that he 
 had some points in the cause, some plan of discourse, but
 
 JUDGE STORY. 79 
 
 that the gentleman's eloquence had thrown him into 
 confusion. After this handsome tribute he made a 
 glorious argument himself.
 
 SWITZERLAND. 
 
 Basle, with intricate streets and pleasant fountains, 
 and ancient gateways, looks down upon the Rhine. 
 The inhabitants once had scriptural texts over their 
 doors ; were compelled to dress in black on Sunday ; 
 and had their clocks one hour in advance of all others. 
 They speak French and German, live in houses with 
 garrets of four and five stories high ; show the auto 
 graph of Luther, the dwelling of Erasmus, and the pic 
 tures of Holbein. 
 
 Our route lay hence along the river, by pear and ap 
 ple orchards, and fields of sprouting grain by timbered 
 mountains, colored like tapestry, with autumn leaves. 
 Thence by plains, where men drove huge cows, hitched 
 by ropes, to wooden harrows, and to ploughs with 
 wheels. By vine clad slopes, animated with the labors 
 of the vintage. Women, in bare arms and red hoods, 
 gathered the grapes in deep baskets, strapped, like 
 knapsacks, to their shoulders ; and wagons, laden with 
 the purple harvest, were hauled, amidst songs and shout 
 ing, to the wine press. Farther on, the landscape em 
 braced new features. There was a cultivated valley 
 three winding rivers pouring their waters into one the 
 town of Brugg, with its lofty walls and conical towers 
 the Abbey of Koenigsfeld, with its enclosure, like a 
 city the ruined castle of the first of the Habsburgs 
 
 (80)
 
 SWITZERLAND. 81 
 
 and girding them all, high as the clouds, far around as 
 half the horizon, crowned with ice, and glittering like a 
 silver zone in the sunset, rose the eternal Alps. We 
 watched the enkindling scene till it disappeared with 
 the day. 
 
 The next afternoon we were climbing, amongst va 
 grant cows and courteous citizens, the steep, crooked, 
 narrow streets of Zurich. The eaves of the tall houses 
 overhang like porticos. Spires abound, painted and 
 sharp as spears. Promenades extend along the ancient 
 ramparts. The lake, the river, and the mountains 
 gratify the eye. Zwingle, the hero and scholar, began 
 here the Reformation. Here Lavater, the physiogno 
 mist, and the two Gessners, the naturalist and the poet, 
 were born. The arsenal is full of curious weapons of 
 old Swiss wars. It contains a cross-bow, of wood and 
 iron, with which, they say, Tell shot the apple from 
 the head of his son. 
 
 Traveling through drifting clouds, an elevation of 
 two thousand feet, cultivated to its summit, we de 
 scended, by roadside crosses of wood and iron, to Lu 
 cerne. It lies between the heights of the Righi and 
 Pilatus ; and on the shores of that lake, which is for 
 ever associated with the progress of liberty, and the 
 epic history of the heroic Swiss. There are numerous 
 bridges in the town, spanning turbulent rapids, and 
 adorned with paintings. 
 
 In the suburbs, is a monument to the Swiss defenders 
 of the Tuilleries, designed by Thorwaldsen. Carved 
 out of the solid rock, with a limpid pool of water be 
 neath it, lies a colossal lion ; which, fatally pierced by a 
 spear, holds, with dying strength, the Bourbon shield
 
 82 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 in its paws. It wears an expression of pain and courage, 
 of fidelity to duty, and resignation to fate passionate, 
 spiritual, and natural. One instantly feels, how beauti 
 fully genius has wrought this metaphor in stone ; and 
 how fitly, the king of the forest illustrates human virtue. 
 
 A two days' journey brought us to Berne. It is 
 seated on a lofty platform of rock, surrounded at the 
 base by the river Aar, more than one hundred feet be 
 low it. Snow covered mountains are in the distance, 
 and fruitful valleys near. The houses are built of stone ; 
 and massive arcades shelter the sidewalks. The women, 
 with wide sleeves, flapping like wings, and white linen 
 vests and colored skirts, seem as though their toilet was 
 unfinished. 
 
 Berne seems as fond of bears as Rome was of geese. 
 The image is on its coins, and on its shield. Its effigies, 
 in stone, mount the barriers, and crown the fountains. 
 A clock in the street, sets in motion, when it strikes, a 
 company of bears. Some on horseback, furnished with 
 the mail, spurs and lance of cavaliers ; and some on 
 their hind legs, bearing swords and flags, march around 
 in military order. In a sort of cellar, on the edge of 
 the town, at any time of day, may be seen the animal 
 himself; corpulent and indolent, sitting on his tail, and 
 holding up his arms like a beggar, to boys and strangers, 
 for apple cores and chestnuts. The city, however, lib 
 erally supports the beast, from which it derives its name, 
 and whose bloodshed consecrated its foundations. 
 
 We passed Freyburg, with its feudal watch towers, 
 and its wonderful gorge, crossed by the longest and the 
 highest bridges in the world. Then through Lausanne
 
 SWITZERLAND. 83 
 
 and its shaded walks, where Gibbon completed his his 
 tory. 
 
 We next reached Geneva, renowned for watches, re 
 formers, refugees and poets. Thither went John Knox, 
 fleeing from Britain. There rested John Calvin, driven 
 from Italy. It has been the resort of royalists, from 
 France ; regicides, from London ; and plain rogues from 
 all places. It was the birth place of Rousseau. Near 
 it, Byron wrote some of his cantos. .Near it, Voltaire 
 passed his latter days. It is built in a charming valley, 
 partially encompassed with a double line of fortifica 
 tions ; forming a promenade, from which you look up to 
 the loftiest mountain, and down on one of the loveliest 
 lakes in Europe. The place seems in everything but 
 location, a French town. You find French waiters in 
 the hotels. You read French newspapers in the cafes. 
 You see French signs over the shops. You hear French 
 all through the streets. You pay your bill in French 
 coins. You ride away in a French diligence. You can 
 hardly distinguish a native from a Frenchman. 
 
 But the Swiss have a national character, and in gene 
 ral are honest, polite and penurious. And as their 
 country is rugged and mountainous, circumscribed in 
 extent, with small towns and few factories ; without 
 seaports, or navigable rivers, or railroads; they can 
 never be a great people. But as they are industrious, 
 they cannot be poor. And as they are brave, they will 
 always be free.
 
 JOE. 
 
 Joe is a character. Nature has done something for 
 him, and promises more. That he will be taller, heavier, 
 and older, if he lives, may be confidently asserted. We 
 cannot as easily aver that he will be scientific, poetical, 
 or wealthy. 
 
 He is not a prodigy for a boy of fourteen, like Pascal. 
 He may not become as admirable as Crichton ; or as 
 handsome as Absalom. He does not read or write out 
 of his vernacular ; and uses the gift of speech with ap 
 parent reluctance. It is unlikely that he will ever move 
 masses by his tongue, or be as eloquent as Belial, or 
 Ulysess. He will not supply the lost works of Livy, or 
 restore the lost arts. 
 
 His mathematical information is limited. He is sat 
 isfied that a hoop forms a circle, and that the globe 
 is round, like a marble. He will never calculate the 
 inclination of an asymptote, nor invent a theorem, like 
 Maclaurin's. He has no tendency to astronomy. He 
 seldom looks up, unless he is under a fruit tree. He 
 would not have regarded the falling apple in the same 
 point of view as Newton. He has not inhaled that 
 divine afflatus, which inspires spondees and dactyls ; 
 though his drowsy disposition gives him the dreamy 
 look of some of the poets. 
 
 (84)
 
 JOE. 85 
 
 The colossal fortunes which industry and economy have 
 raised ; the transient but irresistible fascination of po 
 litical eclat ; the hazardous but brilliant game of 
 soldier, may never be connected with his name. 
 
 He ignores the maxim about the early bird getting 
 the worm. Most probably he will never run for office. 
 He is not without pluck or patriotism, but his sympa 
 thies are statu quo ante bellum. 
 
 That activity which never tires, and is aptly com 
 pared to the ceaseless motions in nature ; that energy 
 which overleaps difficulties, crushes opposition, and 
 wrenches success from defeat and despair ; he cannot be 
 said to illustrate. 
 
 His phrenological features display a well balanced 
 mind, such as Everett, calls genius. His impulses are 
 not violent, nor is he liable to explosions of wrath, 
 surprise or mirth. He is not facetious, nor profound, 
 nor plausible, nor presuming. 
 
 He is peculiarly and pre-eminently slow. A quality 
 which is, however, not without merit or friends. The 
 precession of the equinoxes is slow. Justice is slow, 
 and moves in leaden shoes. A slow punishment gives 
 a chance for repentance. "Be slow to anger," says the 
 scripture. A slow match often saves life. A slow 
 foot, like that of the tortoise, sometimes wins a race. 
 A slow soldier, like Fabius, often throws a foe off his 
 guard. A slow coach has charms for nervous women ; 
 and a slow note, for a poor man. A slow cure promises 
 most health. A slow growth, like the persimmon's, con 
 duces to vigor. A slow process of making money is 
 apt to be successful. A slow dog, like the beagle, is 
 likely to worry down the game. A slow fire, like a
 
 86 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 burning knot, is certain to last. A slow rain pene 
 trates the earth. A slow eater gets fat. A slow life is 
 mostly a long one. And slow people are said to be 
 sure. They are not in a hurry to go or stop. They do 
 not break anything in order to see a balloon or a circus. 
 They are content "to wait for the wagon," or themillen- 
 ium. They are rarely alarmed ; they seldom get 
 hurt ; they are not choked ; they are not cheated. They 
 do not get lost ; they do not abscond. They are seri 
 ous, they are doubters ; sometimes skeptics, never en 
 thusiasts. They are often melancholy, never frantic ; 
 though apt to make others so, who depend on their 
 motions. 
 
 Therefore nothing is more intolerable than a slow 
 cook to the hungry ; or a slow priest to the bride ; or 
 a slow express with returns, to the politician. Nor in 
 any such capacity ought Joe ever to be employed. 
 
 Indeed, it is difficult to say when, he will be the right 
 person in the right place. He has hardly sufficient 
 momentum to be mischievous or meritorious. He has 
 not zeal enough for a parson ; and yet too much humil 
 ity for the Bar. He is not positive enough for the 
 Bench ; he is not systematic enough for a physician, and 
 he is too conservative for a quack. 
 
 His local attachment must prevent him from going 
 much abroad. His reserve would, besides, make him 
 rather insipid, as a traveling companion. In a two 
 day's excursion, a horse-trough, like one at home, elicit 
 ed the only remark he made. 
 
 His habits are sedentary. He would be eminent as a 
 tailor, if it were not for the laborious motion of the 
 arms ; as an errand boy, if it were not for the constant
 
 JOE. 87 
 
 draught upon the legs ; as a nurse, if vigilance were 
 unnecessary ; and a good lad generally, if he had 
 nothing to do. 
 
 His innocent face evinces no emotion, and excites 
 none. He does not seem to be thinking of anything 
 that ever occurred ; or expecting that anything would 
 happen again. 
 
 He fully, illustrates that expression of repose which 
 is so characteristic of Egyptian art. If the ancient 
 mythology prevailed, he might be employed as a model 
 for that immovable deity, which was planted on boun 
 dary lines, and called the god Terminus. For this pur 
 pose, had he not been so slow in being born, he would, 
 two thousand years ago, have been useful in the world.
 
 THE SIMPLON PASS OVER THE ALPS. 
 
 In a diligence we passed over meadows, where shep 
 herd girls, in razeed hats and roundabouts,* watched 
 browsing cattle ; through villages with streets of mire, 
 and houses roofed by overjutting rocks, the abodes of 
 Cretins and goitred women ; amongst ravines filled with 
 firs, and the wrecks of avalanches, till we struck the 
 Simplon. 
 
 This road was the work of Napoleon. It required 
 six years for its construction, and often the labor of 
 thirty thousand men. Its length is nearly fifty miles; 
 it pierces the granite mountain in a dozen places ; spans 
 gorges with more than five hundred bridges ; and with 
 a width of twenty-five feet, and a grade of an inch to 
 the foot, ascends more than a mile above the sea. 
 
 We entered the pass before dawn. There was no 
 moon, but the outline of things was dimly shown by the 
 glittering constellations. There was no noise, but the 
 occasional splash of water, and the creaking wheels. 
 There was no traveler but myself; and I walked with 
 slow and easy steps, up this solitude, so infinite and 
 wild. 
 
 Great masses in front appeared to obstruct the way. 
 Great gulfs, abrupt, and wide, and invisibly deep, 
 yawned around. Vast shadows loomed from the rugged 
 steps, vague as monsters. Shapeless heaps rose high 
 
 (88)
 
 THE SIMPLON PASS OVER THE ALPS. 89 
 
 and distant as the stars, which seemed to crown them. 
 The whole might resemble the anarchy of nature as 
 if Hercules in his burning rage ; or Milton's angels in 
 their war, had strewed here the fragments of unseated 
 woods and "upturned mountains." 
 
 Day broke at length, and the sun flashed from point 
 to point, and lighted up the grandeur of the scene. 
 Heights, depths and distances were disclosed. Rocks, 
 huge as hills, were poised like missiles. Cliffs, like 
 pyramids or towers, were roofed with snow, or pinnacled 
 with ice. Trees, old and tall, swung from the sides of 
 fearful chasms. Torrents rushed overhead or underfoot, 
 thundering in their fall, and flinging up their spray in 
 rainbows. Dark tunnels, long galleries, lofty arches, 
 and huts of refuge were passed, and the summit gained. 
 All there was barren and cold as winter. The daisies 
 had disappeared, the grasses failed, the firs and birches 
 took no root. Glaciers, and granite, and desolation 
 reigned around. 
 
 The descent was hence by a narrow defile, called the 
 gorge of Gondo, whose perpendicular sides reach up a 
 thousand feet above the road. We traversed this wind 
 ing avenue, cut through solid stone, a two hours journey, 
 to its end. 
 
 It opened into a plain, where miles of level land were 
 beautifully green; where vines were trailed over countless 
 arbours ; and slopes were decked with pretty villas ; 
 and gardens glowed with fruit and flowers ; where the 
 air was full of life and song, and the sky bright as pearl. 
 This was Italy.
 
 A RIDE ON THE PRAIRIES. 
 
 Years ago, when railroads were scarce in the great 
 west, I crossed the muddy Mississippi, from St. Louis, 
 and started in a Troy built stage, on a journey through 
 Illinois. I was the only passenger ; and as the driver 
 ostentatiously gathered up the "ribbons," and gave 
 his whip the dexterous flourish of his craft, and the 
 four horses sprang forward in a gallop, and the coach 
 danced on its leathern springs, I seemed confidentially 
 vain of my importance. 
 
 On we went, the dust rolled away like smoke behind 
 us ; houses and fields in constant succession disappear 
 ed ; long miles were made ; and the day was well nigh 
 spent, when we halted at an Inn, whose sign was a pic 
 ture of our own conveyance. 
 
 The next morning, we were again on the road, through 
 acres of corn, which prevailed over the wide land ; 
 sometimes through a wooden village built on cord sticks, 
 with a small office, used by turns for church, court and 
 school. Our arrival in such a place, heralded by the 
 rattle of hoofs and wheels, and a blast from the stage 
 horn, brought out the chief citizens. There was the 
 man who had been east, the justice of the peace, the 
 Methodist brother, and those unofficial loafers, who 
 claim to be the people. 
 
 (90)
 
 A RIDE ON THE PRAIRIES. 91 
 
 Sometimes, for great distances, there were no signs 
 of cultivation ; no roof of shelter, no growth of grain, no 
 fenced ground, no single tree was to be seen. The vast 
 level expanded in all directions to the horizon; sublime 
 in its uniformity, its solitude, and silence. The long 
 grass rippled like water in the breeze ; brilliant with 
 gay flowers, and that delicious green, which only virgin 
 soils and prairie suns produce. 
 
 Again we went by clumps of wood, thick with bushes, 
 whither the deer retreat from the heat and the flies. 
 The prairie chickens, in flocks, flushed suddenly before 
 us, or sailed lazily over the road. The rattlesnake, 
 now and then, trailed swiftly through the dust, or 
 coiled up in the way, struck defiantly, and vainly at the 
 wheels. 
 
 No person met us on the route ; but some cattle stood, 
 like pictures, against the sky, as we approached the 
 " Traveler's rest." We remained a while at this iso 
 lated tavern to shoot game. It was built of frame, 
 painted red, and leaned far out of plumb. The bar 
 room was decorated with wagon gear and chains ; with 
 two long flint lock guns, and two huge powder horns ; 
 with several whiskey jugs and tins ; with doors which 
 had neither bolts nor locks. The "Sucker" landlord 
 smiled inquisitively, and soon asked: "whar I came 
 from." The children wondered at my wristbands, and 
 said they were "mighty white." The wife prepared a 
 supper more wholesome than fashionable. 
 
 Having slept on the floor, and gunned around the 
 house, and eaten a prairie hen, I left, next day, in the 
 stage.
 
 92 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 At night fall, when we stopped for water, an unknown 
 person took a seat beside me. Being able only to see 
 that his figure was tall, I indulged in some fancies about 
 brigands. But weary of loneliness and silence, his 
 society was a relief, and we chatted for a time pleasantly 
 together. His misuse of sounding words, however, 
 made an impression that he was silly or eccentric. 
 
 Soon the sky grew darker with gathering clouds ; the 
 stars became obscured ; and the breeze augmented to 
 a gale. Having been silent for a while, my companion 
 suddenly said "Stranger did you ever know the king 
 of the Spanish dominions ? he is a great man I cor 
 respond with him he is my Brother do you know 
 him?" Raising his voice, he proceeded: "He has 
 soldiers, and spirits, and devils he is the man in the 
 moon !" Startled and alarmed at thus finding myself 
 alone, at such a time and place, with a crazy man, I 
 involuntarily seized the door, and nervously answered, 
 no. "Not know him;" he said more loudly "Not 
 know him how I pity you you shall know him I'll 
 take you to him I'll introduce you we'll go to night 
 hurrah to night !" In the midst of his cries, the 
 storm increased the blast redoubled its fury the rain 
 beat upon us like a flood. Then, with an abrupt lunge, 
 we were borne forward with new speed ; the horses were 
 running away the coach rocked from side to side, as 
 if it would overturn. We were thrown against one 
 another, backward and forwards, while on we dashed 
 down in the gullies over the sluices up the hillocks 
 now clattering across a rickety bridge on into thick 
 darkness, made more fearful by the gleam of lightings, 
 and the crash of thunder bolts.
 
 A RIDE ON THE PRAIRIES. 93 
 
 While amidst this confusion ; arose the frantic yells 
 of the lunatic, to aggravate the dread and the danger- 
 It seemed, indeed, as if the spirits he spoke of, were 
 present, and his promise of our destination would be 
 fulfilled. A thousand thoughts flew through the mind, 
 of the past, the distant, of home, and kin, and sin, and 
 death. Nothing but a catastrophe seemed likely to stop 
 us. All at once; we were hurled violently, head 
 foremost, to the front of the stage, and stunned, for a 
 time, by the shock. A few minutes afterwards, we 
 crawled out to find that we had lost a wheel, and were 
 lodged in a marsh. 
 
 As I recovered, and stood in the drenching rain, the 
 lunatic ran off with wild speed, shouting more wildly 
 " Hurrah Spanish dominions dominions hurrah," 
 till his voice, broken and diminished, in the distance, 
 "grew fainter and then ceased." 
 
 A cottage happened to be near, and the storm lulling, 
 the hospitable squatter, with a lantern, assisted us to 
 restore the wheel, and lash it fast by a hickory withe. 
 The driver then, to an inquiry about our late passenger, 
 said ; that he had become deranged for the loss of his 
 brother on the coast of Spain ; and that usually quiet, 
 he had been roused to fury by the tempest. 
 
 We then went softly on our way, with all possible 
 caution, without delaying the United States mail, for 
 the erratic correspondent of the King of the Spanish 
 dominions.
 
 FROM THE ALPS TO PISA. 
 
 Leaving the Alps, we saw peasant girls with large 
 throats, red bordered skirts, red turbans and dark 
 surtouts ; carrying leaves along the road ; or picking 
 them amongst the perilous rocks, like those who gathered 
 samphire on the cliffs of Dover. 
 
 We entered the luxurious vallies which had so often 
 allured invaders ; passed villages, diversified with the 
 painted walls of houses ; the yellow legs of lazaroni, the 
 flow of dirty waters, and women with olive cheeks and 
 raven curls. We followed the sinuous shores of Lake 
 Maggiore, whose islands, small or populous, resembled 
 floating cities, or ships of flowers. We reached Milan, 
 where the officers of customs looked narrowly amongst 
 our baggage for pamphlets and pistols, and a gang of 
 porters, acquired by degrees, our smaller coins. 
 
 Milan was prosperous when Rome declined ; was 
 wasted by rivals and barbarians ; was famous for its steel, 
 and gave a name to Milliners. The streets are paved 
 with a double line of flat stones ; over which carriages 
 roll as smoothly as on a floor. Prints and paintings are 
 tacked upon dead walls. Cauldrons of large chestnuts 
 are roasting over charcoal fires, and huckster men ladle 
 out a handful for a "sous." Beggars are sitting con 
 tentedly at the corners ; rattling moneyboxes, as the 
 dice players do for luck. Women are passing with black 
 
 [94]
 
 FROM THE ALPS TO PISA. 95 
 
 embroidered veils on their heads, in lieu of bonnets. 
 Balconies are hanging from the windows. An ancient 
 colonnade stands desolate in the streets. Tall bell 
 towers are near the churches. 
 
 The Duomo is considered the most beautiful of 
 Cathedrals. It is all marble, once entirely white, now 
 somewhat tinged with the yellow hue of time. It is 
 nearly five hundred feet in length ; and more than three 
 hundred and fifty from the pavement to the apex. The 
 walls are relieved with buttresses, richly wrought, and 
 Roman windows, and painted glass, and niches filled 
 with figures. Pinnacles rise on every side each sur 
 mounted by a statue. Above them all, the spire ascends 
 with winding steps, and sculptured balusters ; like a 
 stairway to the clouds. On its very summit shines an 
 effigy of the Madonna. 
 
 The interior of the edifice is also imposing. The 
 elegant doors open on a floor of tri-colored mosaic. Rows 
 of colossal columns eighty feet in height, support the 
 fretted arches of the roof. Splendid monuments to saints 
 and cardinals, and handsome altars are by the walls. 
 Large pictures are along the corridors. Pulpits of bronze, 
 with symbolic images, are near the choir ; and in a golden 
 shrine, arrayed in gorgeous robes, lies the shriveled 
 mummy of San Carlo. 
 
 From Milan, our road led over a flat country ; dotted 
 with poplars, oaks and willows ; by men in knee-breeches, 
 and women with wooden heels ; by white castles, and 
 poor towns ; over bridges of boats, where at night each 
 drowsy passenger in the diligence was roused to pay his 
 river fare ; across the battle fields of Hannibal and Na 
 poleon ; down the mountain side to Genoa.
 
 96 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 This city is seated on a crescent shore. The Ap- 
 penines behind it are beautiful with vines and villas ; its 
 spires are numerous ; its shops and palaces and churches 
 are rich in gold and marble. All the streets but one are 
 narrow ; all the women wear white veils ; and it has been 
 called the city of Kings. 
 
 Hence a steamer landed us amidst the cries of boat 
 men and clouds of dust, on the wide flag pavements of 
 Leghorn, which has given a name to hats. 
 
 The traveler is impressed here with the division of 
 labor, which is so well adapted to diminish his resources. 
 One porter hands the baggage to another ; a third unloads, 
 and a fourth carries it in to the hotel. Neither the driver 
 nor waiter is allowed to interfere, although all the six 
 must be paid. 
 
 A rail car bore us hence to Pisa. The leaning tower 
 is circular, of white marble, with eight colonnades 
 around it, one above the other. It is fifty feet in di 
 ameter, and one hundred and eighty feet high. It has 
 stood six hundred years, leaning thirteen feet from the 
 perpendicular. The inclination was caused by a yield 
 ing soil. It was counterbalanced, by varying the length 
 of the columns, during its construction, and afterwards, 
 by the bells. The largest bell weighs twelve thousand 
 pounds ; and is so hung as to keep the centre of gravity 
 within the base. 
 
 From every position ; from the street ; from the top ; 
 at a distance, or near, the tower appears as if it was 
 just going to fall. To one on the summit, it seems 
 sinking down ; but he is at once attracted by the inter 
 esting and extensive view around him. Below is the 
 Cathedral, with the long horizontal lines, and elevated
 
 FROM THE ALPS TO PISA. 97 
 
 platform of a Grecian temple ; a monument of pious 
 gratitude for victory over the infidels. Near by, is the 
 " Holy Field" inclosed, and covered with soil from 
 Calvary ; decorated with frescoes and sarcophagi. And 
 there is the city and the winding river the meadows 
 with herds of cattle, white as the Cretan bull villages 
 on the mountain sides and the sails of gallant vessels 
 flashing on the distant sea. 
 
 9
 
 THE DOG BOZ. 
 
 On the morning after the great Macaulay was lowered 
 amongst the illustrious bones of Westminster, the best 
 of dogs was found stark and senseless on the sleeted 
 snow. Old Boz is dead ; like Hiawatha, he has gone 
 
 " To the regions of the home wind, 
 
 * * * 
 
 To'the kingdom of Ponemah." 
 
 Dogs, like Indians, look perchance beyond this vale of 
 tears to a paradise of game. The theory has been sug 
 gested by men of science, like Peter H. Browne, and 
 by men of the world, like Samuel Weller. So we read 
 of one's ghost, which haunted Peel castle, and deprived 
 of speech whoever addressed it. If their treatment 
 here has not corresponded with their conduct, it is 
 reasonable to expect for them a compensating future. 
 
 They were the first animals subdued, and their use 
 fulness has been most various. They have been devoted 
 to the security, the amusement, and luxury of men. 
 Some ancients and some moderns have deemed their 
 flesh delicious food. Hippocrates compared it to pork. 
 The Chinaman prefers it to veal. Dog's blood was once 
 considered an antidote for poison. His hide has been 
 used for slippers, and his hair for beds and robes. His 
 instinct taught us our resort to emetics. 
 
 (98)
 
 THE DOG BOZ. 99 
 
 His habits adapt themselves to all phases of society. 
 He hunts with the savage, and the sportsman ; through 
 the forest and the prairie. He watches the flocks, 
 while the shepherd studies the stars and the house of 
 the burgher, while he dreams on his couch. He drags 
 the rude sledge of the Esquimaux over the ocean of ice ; 
 and the truck wagon of the Boor along the highways 
 of Holland. He invades the ambush of the wild beast 
 and the assassin. He goes with the conscript over the 
 perilous "ridges of battle." 
 
 He displays qualities such as men delight to boast of. 
 He has had more applause than the clown, for his tricks 
 in the circus. He has tracked, with the keenness of a 
 sheriff, stolen goods and felons, through crowds, and 
 darkness, and for weeks-^-torn the money from the 
 pocket and the shoes led a friend to the hidden corpse 
 sprang at the murderer's throat. He attended the 
 wounded with the same charity as the heroine of Scutari. 
 He guided the blind beggar after alms. He gathered 
 food for the starving saved the helpless from the preci 
 pice, the flood and the fire. He served with equal 
 fidelity the powerful and the poor nor forgot his 
 master abroad nor forsook him in the prison nor at 
 the scaffold nor at the tomb. 
 
 He recognized Telemachus, long absent, 
 
 ' And fawning at his feet confessed his joy." 
 
 Homer again makes his faithfulness excite the tears of 
 Ulysses ; and Southey, the grief of Rhoderick ; and 
 Cowper compares his love to religion. He watched by 
 the sick bed of Peter Bold. He mourned over the head-
 
 100 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 less body of Mary, Queen of Scots. He wandered over 
 the field of Dresden, seeking the slain Moreau. He 
 followed alone the pauper's hearse, as .they 
 " Rattled his bones over the stones." 
 
 He threw himself on the funeral pile of royal Lysi- 
 machus. He perished of grief and despair at the grave 
 of Jason. 
 
 But all the associations of the species are not agree 
 able. He is wild and ferocious on the flats of Congo. 
 He snarls all day and night in the Eastern cities. To 
 quarrel is his privilege. 
 
 " Let dogs delight 
 To bark and bite," 
 
 is one of the earliest lessons. The Mosaic figure over 
 the " cave canem" at Pompeii, is but a symbol of 
 anger. The rage of Hecuba changed her into a dog. 
 He is a beast and, therefore, sensual. He is liable to 
 madness, and hence to be suspected. He is carnivorous, 
 and may be cruel. He is servile, and may be deceitful. 
 His voice, though a hint to rascals, and once sweet as 
 music to the tired and plundered Syntax, is a foe to re 
 pose. He prowls amongst garbage, and does not al 
 ways smell like a thousand flowers. 
 
 His name was sometimes given to the Furies. It re 
 presented the spirit of war and havoc. It has been a 
 term of scorn. His service was ignominious. His 
 price was unclean, and not fit for the altar. He lap 
 ped up the blood of Ahab ; ate the flesh of Jezebel, and 
 devoured the Christians in the Roman circus. Job, in 
 bitterness, only preferred him to his enemy. The 
 preacher, in charity, only preferred him to a dead lior.
 
 THE DOG BOZ. 101 
 
 Moses abhorred him, when he made him silent against 
 Israel and the Philistine, when he railed at the 
 weapons of David Hazacl, when he scouted at the 
 crimes predicted by the prophet and the inhabitants 
 of Sygaros, who would not allow him to approach their 
 abodes. 
 
 He was compared to whatever was greedy, dumb, un- 
 circumcised, incorrigible, or worked evil. He was com 
 pared to those without the pale of grace. Before him, 
 the holy things were not to be cast. To him, the chil 
 dren's bread was not to be given. He returned to the 
 filth he rejected. He licked the sores of Lazarus. 
 ^Eschylus illustrated, by his moan, the sleeping harpies. 
 Dean Swift likened to him the baseness of Titus Gates. 
 The mythologist personified horror in the triple-headed 
 Cerberus, who kept the gates of Pluto and Byron, in 
 constancy, in his own dog at the gates of Newstead. 
 His vileness suggested Curran's sarcasm on Lord Clare; 
 and Shy lock' s taunt 
 
 " Is it possible a cur can lend three thousand ducats ;" 
 
 and occasioned the bitten courtier to exclaim, " God 
 bless your Majesty, but not your dogs." 
 
 A bankrupt, according to the proverb, has gone to 
 the dogs. It is said of successful rascals, that every 
 dog must have his day. The crowd is most desperate 
 and dangerous, when through the town they cry, mad 
 dog. The invalid, when most forlorn, complains of 
 being sick as a dog. The loafer is always as tired as a 
 dog. The worst type of constable was Dogberry. The 
 coarsest of philosophers were called dogs, or Cynics. 
 The most oppressive part of the year are the dog days.
 
 102 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 The meanest of dead languages is dog Latin. The 
 vilest poetry is doggerel. The most worthless article 
 is dog cheap. A crafty fellow is a sly dog. A low 
 fellow is a dirty dog. A selfish, heartless, unscrupu 
 lous fellow is usually reproached with being his rela 
 tion. 
 
 Thus the prejudice of centuries, and the customs of 
 communities have disparaged the brute. His body has 
 been crucified along the Roman ways, and burnt upon 
 the heathen altars. He has been made the target of 
 satires and of stones. They have tortured and worried 
 him, for experiment and mischief. Poisoned him, to 
 test drugs and gases exhibited his misery for amuse 
 ment made it no larceny to steal him set a reward 
 upon his head shot him as a nuisance chained him 
 like a culprit cropped his ears for fashion shortened 
 his tail for a joke. 
 
 Thus subject to untoward fortune, he has yet not 
 been without favor and protection. Mohammedans 
 place food and water for him in the streets. The 
 Japanese have a hospital for him in sickness, and make 
 his destruction a capital offence. Dr. Norman pro- 
 fe.ssed to cure his diseases, at Fox court, London. An 
 annual exhibition is held in England to improve his 
 breed. And a sort of poor house has been founded 
 for him there, when he is astray or starving. 
 
 Men treat him with more familiarity than all other 
 animals. Alciphron invited both his friend and his 
 dog to a feast. The dog of Alcibiades divided with his 
 master, the attention of Athens. Evander had a pair 
 of dogs by his side, when he went to meet ^Eneas. 
 The famous Blue Beard was always attended by his
 
 THE DOG BOZ. 103 
 
 pack. The Queen Henrietta risked her life to save her 
 lap dog. The poet said of the merry Charles, that 
 
 " His very dog, at council board, 
 Sits grave and wise as any lord." 
 
 Selwyn, the wit, and Walpole, the gossip, spoke of 
 their spaniels, as admiringly as they did of the fair 
 Miss Gunnings. John Randolph kept his two hounds 
 with him on the floor of Congress. Willis fondled one 
 at Idlewild, who had smelt the "open sea." Voiture 
 speaks of ladies, "whose eyes weep for dogs, and mur 
 der men." A spinster is said to have feared that her 
 whiffet would get sick from biting her guest. Mrs. 
 Barbauld calls the mastiff 
 
 " A safe companion, and almost a friend." 
 
 Most persons are fond of a similar pet, who goes with 
 them in their walks, their toils, their sports ; excites 
 their attachment ; enlists their care, and whose death 
 recalls his peculiar virtues. 
 
 Boz was neither 
 
 " Mongrel, puppy, whelp, nor hound, 
 Nor cur^of low degree." 
 
 He was called after the popular pen of Dickens, and 
 born a setter. A breed more ancient than the poet 
 Surry, to whom some attribute their training. But to 
 tell his genealogy would be as difficult, as 
 
 " To trace the Kilmansegg pedigree, 
 To the very root of the family tree." 
 
 His line runs back to the heroic age of hunters, when 
 wants were simple and law was scarce ; when there were 
 no lectures on the " social forces," and no actions of 
 trespass in the Common Pleas. 
 
 His ancestors may have set quails in the thickets of
 
 104 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 Thessaly, at the "to-ho" of Diana or with mistaken 
 instinct, pursued and devoured imprudent Actseon or 
 coursed along the banks of rivers with mighty Nimrod 
 or yelped in the pack of Cyrus who, says Xenophon, 
 was devoted to the chase or caught for Cleopatra the 
 wild boars, with which she feasted Anthony or followed 
 the bugles of St. Eustace or led the hunt of mediaeval 
 Bishops over the sedges of Hainault, and the hills of 
 Jura. 
 
 He had all the marks of gentle blood. He had the 
 fine fluctuating ears which the Carthaginian Bard de 
 scribed. His form was handsome his limbs and 
 features, perfect and harmonious. His color was of 
 mingled white and brown, like the leaves and frost of 
 autumn. His hair was flowing, and soft as the fleece of 
 Cashmere as any the caterpillar spins, or Jacquard's 
 loom can weave. His eyes were lustrous and sad, like 
 a thoughtful woman's, or a poet's. He smiled, not like 
 Cassius, but with a subdued and persuasive air ; and he 
 almost wept with human tears. 
 
 His attitudes and movements were so full of grace and 
 and nature, that he must have allured Europa from the 
 spell of Taurus ; presented a tempting model to the 
 artists attracted the pencil of Landseer, and the gentle 
 muse of Somerville. 
 
 He was docile and intelligent. He knew his duty and 
 discharged it better than many bipeds. He could not 
 like the spaniel of the Medicean noble, wait at table, 
 and pour out wine nor did he, like the one which 
 haunted the Paris Opera, love music ; though he howled 
 a sorry second to the church bell. Nor like the one 
 which ran with London engines, did he enjoy the ex-
 
 THE DOG BOZ. 105 
 
 citement of a house on fire. He had not the piety which 
 the Ettrick Shepherd claimed for his, who sat in the 
 pew alone and kept awake. Nor the wit of Walter 
 Scott's, who understood his stories. Nor the faculty of 
 speech like the cur of Leibnitz ; nor the gift of prophecy 
 like Achilles' horse, or Balaam's ass. 
 
 He was swift. But he would not have equaled those 
 
 who won the Pentland hills for Sir W. St. Clair, from 
 
 King Robert Bruce. Merkin would have beat him who 
 
 went a mile in four minutes ; and Thanet's hound who 
 
 ran one hundred and twenty miles in a day ; and those 
 
 " Two dogs of black St. Hubert's breed, 
 
 Unmatched for courage, breath and speed." 
 
 His smell was keen. Vermin never escaped his sense 
 and seldom his jaws. He swallowed his captives with 
 the voracity of Cyclops. He reveled in the open field, 
 and in the marsh. He winded from bush to tussuc, with 
 untiring zeal, and unerring instinct to the cover, where 
 the birds nestled, or the rabbit squat. He stopped in 
 full gallop, and rigid as marble, 
 
 " Pointed with his instructive nose, upon 
 The trembling prey." 
 
 The crack of the gun gave scope to his boisterous joy. 
 He was content with the honor without the profit of 
 victory. He was social. He kissed the horse in har 
 ness, and played with pups and children, with all the 
 foolishness of age. 
 
 He was not selfish, like the dog in the manger. Nor 
 mischievous, like the smuggler's, who aided his fraud ; 
 or the boot-black's who brushed his muddy tail on 
 strangers' feet. He was modest as worth is. He never 
 entered the house ; was patient of neglect ; dainty in
 
 106 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 diet ; tolerant of injury ; grateful for caresses. Yet 
 amongst his fellows, he was like Wolsey 
 
 " Lofty an J sour to those that loved him not, 
 
 But, to those dogs that sought him, sweet as summer." 
 
 He was a Northerner ; fearless but not savage ; and 
 bit when he barked. With a prejudice for freedom, he 
 was loyal to restraint. But he did not like the cur in 
 the fable, or the minion of party, deem the muzzle or 
 chain an object of pride. 
 
 He was a representative character, and might have 
 been a subject for the essays of Emerson. He was true 
 to his mission, and Carlyle might have placed him in his 
 Pantheon of heroes. He was conservative, and like 
 Burn's, Luath and Caesar, who, 
 
 " When up they got and shook their lugs, 
 Rejoiced they were na men but dogs." 
 
 He was faithful. Politicians might dodge, friends be 
 tray, women change; but, 
 
 " He was true as the northern star." 
 
 He was not idle. In the dark and daylight hours, he 
 went his rounds like some ancient warder, questioning 
 all comers following the suspicious scowling at vag 
 rants fighting the thieves, like the Bagman's dog in 
 Ingoldsby ; until he fell at last, a victim to his vigilance 
 and courage. This last act of Boz evinced particular 
 merit. 
 
 " Nothing in his life so became him, 
 As the leaving it." 
 
 It recalled the daring of those ancient dogs, who 
 fought in regiments for the people of Colophon. Of 
 those who defended the chattels of the routed Cimbri.
 
 THE DOG BOZ. 107 
 
 Of that one in the arena, who defeated the elephant to 
 amuse the sanguinary taste of Alexander. Of that one, 
 which in the reign of the eighth Louis, on the trial by 
 duel, (fit ordeal for dogs,) conquered the Chevalier 
 Macaire. And of that one, which fell fighting at the 
 feet, and for the life of Cselius, the senator. 
 
 Boz's death was in its kind, as glorious as any in the 
 Iliad. Martyrdoms like his, have made men's names 
 immortal. Patriots bleed for their country, in the hope 
 of posthumous honor, saints burn for their religion for 
 the sake of heaven. Boz made the fatal struggle, per 
 haps unconscious of the future ; reckless of advantage ; 
 to save from larceny half a ton of coal, whose use he 
 never knew, and never could enjoy. 
 
 So died he ; who had whatever traits could enhance 
 the value of his kind. Nature had been liberal to him. 
 With keen instincts and vigorous powers, he had skill 
 and prudence, from education and experience. 
 
 " His life was gentle, and the elements so mixed in him, 
 That all the world could stand up and say, 
 This was a dog." 
 
 No marble shaft, to be sure, may be placed upon his 
 ashes, such as a Welsh Prince reared over his grey 
 hound, Gelert. But we may say, he adds another, to 
 those who have given consideration to his race. He 
 was one of those, who have made dogs the object of 
 eulogy, monuments and worship the subject of a trea 
 tise by Caius of poetry by Nemesianus of painting 
 by Protogenes of sculpture by Miron of history by 
 Pliny of anecdotes by ^Elian of fables by ^)sop of 
 miracles by Julius Obsequens.
 
 108 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 Such merits as his have made dogs everywhere the 
 emblems of fidelity the legal attendants of gentlemen 
 in times of chivalry fixed their effigy over the tomb 
 of Diogenes, and at the feet of Silence installed them 
 as Kings in the interior of Africa consecrated them 
 as Gods in Egypt and given their name to islands, to 
 rivers, to oracles, to seasons, to cities, and to stars.
 
 ROME. 
 
 After much annoyance from delays, charges and pass 
 ports ; from the police, porters, boatmen, and beggars, 
 who would have disturbed the composure of a stoic ; 
 having bribed two of the posterity of the Caesars, who 
 sat for the receipt of customs, we entered Rome, saying ; 
 with the Numidian King, as he left it ; " this city is to 
 be sold." It was dark, the lamps were few and flicker 
 ing ; no loiterers were in the streets ; no revelers were 
 abroad ; the sons of Belial went not forth ; it was as 
 silent as it seemed forsaken ; solemn as solitude. 
 
 Daylight, rest, and an Italian breakfast, of cake and 
 coffee, fitted us to wander amongst its labyrinthine 
 thoroughfares, and promiscuous population. We went 
 along the Corso ; famous for the sports of the carnival, 
 the races of the horses, the war of sugar plums, the fan 
 tastic masks, and more fantastic tricks. 
 
 There are churches with pillared fronts, and gilded 
 roofs, and illustrated walls ; with chapels, rich as offer 
 ing of pilgrim and penitent could make them with 
 shrines of priests, and popes, costly as thrones ; and 
 mitred skeletons, in silk and silver with hangings of 
 gold and crimson with holy images, endowed with 
 miraculous powers with relics consecrated by age, 
 accident or tradition ; secured in iron closets, before 
 which tapers perpetually burn with nails which pierced 
 
 (109) 10
 
 110 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 the Saviour's hands ; the lance which was thrust into 
 his side ; the sponge which was filled with vinegar ; 
 portion of the cross on which he hung ; his vestment, 
 which had no seam ; the purple rohe, and prickles from 
 the crown of thorns ; the virgin's veil, and Joseph's 
 staff, and Peter's hair, and the tooth of Paul. 
 
 There are shop windows, filled with pictures in oil, 
 ink, bronze, stone and shell ; cameos and medallions ; 
 minature ruins ; temples reduced to mantel ornaments ; 
 triumphal arches of the size of models; monumental 
 columns, as long as candles ; sarcophagi small enough 
 for fairies; chariots which crickets might sit in and 
 drive ; heads of pearl and hone, strung on hemp or gold ; 
 precious stones in rings and bracelets ; canes in bundles, 
 like fasces or faggots ; mosaics perfect as paintings and 
 brilliant as jewels ; rusty coins found or fabricated, 
 and for sale as antique ; lamps which may have lighted 
 Oataline or Garibaldi ; vases from Etrurian ruins, or 
 modern potteries. Such things make up the commerce 
 of the Eternal city. 
 
 Branching off, and picking our way through the filth, 
 cautiously as cats, and holding up our skirts, like 
 women ; breathing an air which was not fresh, and 
 smelling odors which were not sweet; we passed curves, 
 and corners, and alleys, which seemed like sewers ; vast 
 palaces with grated windows, strong as prisons, where 
 decayed Italian nobles lived ; old arcades, incrusted 
 with ordure, and alive with vermin and vagabonds ; 
 crowds of children, who had never been washed ; an 
 infinite variety of cripples, in distress ; mountaineers 
 clad in skins and canvas, picturesque as poetry could
 
 ROME. Ill 
 
 wish, playing their shrill pipes, such perhaps as Virgil 
 heard, when he sang their pastoral amours. 
 
 We climbed the Pincian hill, now, as of old, the re 
 sort of wealth and fashion ; and alive with whips, and 
 canes, and feet, and wheels. The Sabine hills were 
 white with snow. Roses were blooming in the palace 
 yards. The winter of forty-nine was the most rigorous 
 there for twenty years. The termagant hucksters in 
 their stalls, and the multitudinous beggars on their 
 beats, were seen warming over their earthen urns, filled 
 with hot coals and ashes, the only Italian stoves ; cry 
 ing, in the meanwhile, their misfortunes, and their 
 merchandise. 
 
 We stood upon the capital tower; whence the eye 
 sweeping over the circuit of a few miles, could read the 
 eventful history of the Empire, and its thousand years 
 duration. The old piles of brick and marble, the single 
 columns which, here and there, still stand like time's 
 own sentinels; the soil which bore such monuments, and 
 yet bears such ruins, are more eloquent than tongues or 
 books. They are witnesses of a nation's power and 
 refinement, errors and disasters ; of a people, grand in 
 genius, imperfect in ethics, foolish in faith; whose 
 policy was war; whose justice was victory; whose vir 
 tue was courage ; whose religion was romance. 
 
 There are fragments of temples, dedicated to ideal 
 creations, to passions, and to chance. 
 
 There, fire was kept in perpetual flame ; and there, 
 augurs watched for omens. There, triumphal arcs still 
 span the ways, and commemorate the desolation of towns 
 and provinces. There, vast walls inclose the arena, in 
 which brutal combats were displayed, and chariots raced,
 
 112 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 and Christians were torn by beasts. There, are the very 
 pavements of those great roads, over which passed all the 
 imperial pomp and power. There, are the dreary dun 
 geons, where kings and conspirators Jugurtha and 
 Cethegus were starved and strangled ; and where they 
 say Paul and Peter baptized their jailers, from that 
 miraculous spring, which still bubbles from the floor. 
 
 Stupendous acqueducts stretch across the Campagna, 
 with infinite arches, over which the water flowed to the 
 ancient fountains. The great sewer, through which a 
 loaded wain can pass, still drains, as it did two thousand 
 years ago, the offal of the city. Outside the walls, 
 amongst dilapidated tombs, a grand sepulchral castle 
 frowns over Metella's grave. The waters of Juturna, 
 clear as air, flow where the twin gods, with welcome 
 tidings from the shores of lake Regillus, refreshed 
 their foaming steeds and vanished. The yellow Tiber 
 winds amongst the old foundations, washing the foot of 
 Aventine ; and over the last buttress of that bridge, 
 where Codes, with his single valor, kept the day against 
 Porsenna's army. 
 
 There is Adrain's mole, built for the Emperor's ashes 
 once the castle of the Barons, and the prison of 
 Beatrice Cenci, whose mournful loveliness, Guide's 
 pencil has preserved. The Egerian grotto, mantled 
 with dripping fern, recalls the beautiful story of the 
 enamored goddess, and her mortal lover. Other re 
 mains of better days, and nobler men are seen at every 
 turn. They have been built over modern dwellings ; 
 they lie loose along the sidewalks ; hang feebly to 
 gether ; lean against later walls ; and are overgrown 
 with laurel, as if nature were wreathing them a garland.
 
 ROME. 113 
 
 There are fields of fragments. Shafts, capitals and 
 cornices are strewn about beneath the feet of traveler, 
 tradesman, and beast. Buffalos, introduced from the 
 east, by Lorenzo, the magnificent of Florence, feed in 
 the Forum. Oranges hang, like Hesperian apples, from 
 the steep Tarpeian rock, whence aspiring Manlius was 
 hurled. Cabbages are growing over half the palaces of 
 the Caesars. On the arches of Nero's golden house ; 
 once adorned with a thousand columns, with halls of 
 pearl and gold, and refreshed with artificial gales 
 troops of cattle browse on garlic. Horses are groomed 
 in the mansion of Pilate. Two hundred and sixty dif 
 ferent plants bloom on the walls of the Colosseum. 
 The baths of Diocletian, in which poets recited, and 
 philosophers discussed, are stored with hay. Indul 
 gence is written over the entrance to the Pantheon, the 
 ancient temple to all the gods. The columns of the 
 Emperors are crowned with effigies of saints. A rope 
 walk stretches through the Basilica of Constantine. 
 The mausoleum of Augustus is a modern circus. The 
 gardens of Sallust are over grown with reeds. Vines 
 are trailed over the accursed field, in which the fallen 
 Vestals were interred alive. 
 
 There is no longer the glory and awe of empire. 
 Fasces and games, Muses and legions, and people have 
 been displaced. A new Rome has risen on the seven 
 hills. With a wiser worship, but of little secular influ 
 ence, the present capital is among the last, as the old, 
 was the first of sovereignties. And though without 
 trade, or army ; its traditions, its remains, its master 
 pieces of the arts ; and its Christian temples, worthy of 
 ancient enterprise, still make it the Eternal city.
 
 114 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 There, on the site of Nero's circus, where the mar 
 tyrs perished, as if springing from their blood, rises St. 
 Peters. It is constructed on a scale becoming the cap 
 ital of Christendom ; from such resources as a power 
 deemed to hold the keys of heaven could command ; by 
 the labor of more than three hundred years. It was 
 designed by the ablest artists ; who were stimulated 
 by ambition and devotion, to build for posterity, and 
 eternity, a house for the Deity, which should contain 
 the pilgrim population of the world. Its dome, soar 
 ing gracefully towards the firmament ; is seen for scores 
 of miles, from the mountains, and the shores. Its 
 lofty colonnades, in front, crowned with two hundred 
 and eighty statues, sweep around an area, in which an 
 army can mancevure. 
 
 Its elegant symmetry conceals its extent. The col 
 umns of the facade, though colossal ; and the pillars 
 within, though large as chapels, seem of ordinary size. 
 The figures of the cherubs, apparently so small, are 
 huge as giants. The letters on the walls are legible, 
 though long as spears. Study its details. Go around 
 its inside limits it is a walk of half a mile. Survey 
 its vast variegated floor it is measured by acres. Be 
 hold its bright ceiling, spreading above like a canopy 
 of gold it is higher than the forest trees. Stand near 
 the high altar, and the Apostle's tomb the centre of 
 the loftiest arch is nearly four hundred feet overhead. 
 
 These distances and proportions are as harmonious 
 as they are immense ; as beautiful in part, as sublime 
 in combination. One is no less charmed by the deco 
 rations ; the eternal pictures in mosaic, and the'finished 
 groups in marble, than astonished at the magnitude of
 
 ROME. 115 
 
 this structure the grandest ever raised to God, or man, 
 or idol. ^ 
 
 Close at hand is the Vatican, with aisles, saloons and 
 chambers ; itself a city, populous with paintings and 
 statues. There is the Apollo, beaming with super 
 natural beauty love and light, and victory, deified in 
 stone ! 
 
 There is the Laocoon, with pity and horror disfigur 
 ing the same face ; torture and affection racking the 
 same bosom ; father and sons in one peril, and in one 
 passion ; despairing and dying, in the same monstrous 
 folds. 
 
 There is the Saviour transfigured, faultless and first 
 of pictures ; and the Sistine chapel, adorned with the 
 last judgment of mankind, by the pencil of Buonarotti.
 
 A VISIT TO THE POPE, 
 
 Driven by the revolution from Rome, Pope Pius, the 
 Ninth, sought protection and hospitality beneath the 
 flag of Naples. And though the Republic of Garibaldi 
 had been overturned by the Republic of Cavaignac ; 
 and his successor kept twenty thousand soldiers in the 
 imperial city to maintain the pontifical rule yet his 
 Holiness, in the early part of 1850, was still domiciled 
 at the palace of Portici. 
 
 There, not far from the buried theatre of Hercu- 
 laneum ; near the most magnificent bay in the world ; 
 and at the base of burning Vesuvius, he held his royal 
 court. Sometimes he might be met in the highway, 
 with his confidential cardinal, in a splendid coach ; ac 
 companied by outriders, and troops of soldiers, enjoy 
 ing the winter air. 
 
 Having a letter from Dr. Cullen, now Primate of 
 Ireland, to Monseigneur De Medici, the Pope's Cham 
 berlain, I went to see him. Passing through two sets 
 of guards, up a wide stairway, and along a dreary cor 
 ridor, I was shown into a kind of ofiice, where, in black 
 priestly robes, were M. de Medici, and his secretaries. 
 He received me with much kindness. When about to 
 leave, he gave me, unsolicited, a note, of which the fol 
 lowing is a translation : 
 
 (116)
 
 A VISIT TO THE POPE. 117 
 
 ROYAL PALACE or POETICI, Jan. 22, 1850. 
 
 The undersigned, Chamberlain to his Holiness, advises Sig. Ever- 
 hart, of America, that his Holiness will give him an audience on 
 Wednesday, the 23d inst., at 10 A. M. 
 
 The Chamberlain to his Holiness, Ds MEDICI. 
 
 Concluding to avail myself of the opportunity ; and 
 inquiring of him what costume would be appropriate, 
 he, good humoredly, said : "Wear the best black dress 
 suit you have, a white cravat, and no gloves." 
 
 On the appointed day, in a very unostentatious two 
 horse hack, I returned to the Palace. Arrived at the 
 gates, I was conducted, by an official, past the senti 
 nels, and up the steps to a small waiting room. While 
 a sort of military looking gentleman, with a sword, was 
 asking about my impressions of Italy ; Mons. De 
 Medici, in purple robes, and his secretary in black 
 silk, entered ; and greeted me politely, but did not 
 shake hands. I accompanied the Chamberlain through 
 a large room, hung with red damask drapery, where 
 several officers, in various uniforms, were standing be 
 fore an old fashioned, open, wood fire-place. We 
 passed on through a similar room, which was entirely 
 vacant. 
 
 The Chamberlain then advanced into a smaller cham 
 ber, not more than ten or twelve feet square, whose 
 walls were lined with yellow satin. Presently, he took 
 me by the hand, and presented me, by mentioning my 
 name and country ; and retired. I was then left alone 
 with the Pope. He was very plainly attired in a long 
 gown of white cloth, and a scull cap, and seated at a 
 writing table. As I approached him, bowing cere 
 moniously three times, he inclined towards me with a
 
 118 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 smile. His figure was full, tending to corpulency, but 
 did not seem to be tall. He had a beautiful face, full 
 of intelligence, and almost womanly in its expression of 
 mildness. It was not furrowed by time, nor saddened 
 by misfortune. 
 
 He spoke fluently, in French ; his voice was gentle, 
 his manner cheerful. He inquired about the health of 
 Dr. Cullen, what countries I had visited, and which I 
 preferred; the object of my travels; how far I should ex 
 tend them ; and if I were alone. I merely responded. 
 He said the prosperous condition of the Church in 
 America was of great consolation to him in his afflic 
 tion. The interview having occupied about ten minutes ; 
 he handed me a souvenir, as he termed it. It was a 
 small red case containing a medal, with his own effigy 
 on one side, and the Virgin's on the other ; around 
 which was written, Icetitice nostrce causa. He then bow 
 ed, as a signal for leaving, .and keeping my face towards 
 him, I retired as formally as I entered.
 
 NAPLES. 
 
 In the winter of 1850 I was in Naples. Part of the 
 time a blazing fire of olive sticks was necessary. Yet 
 many trees were then green with leaves ; flowers were 
 blooming ; the limes hung ripe and yellow ; and hun 
 dreds of indigenous plants shed beauty and fragrance 
 along the pleasant promenades. The scenery is re 
 markable. The circling hills, the clear heaven, the 
 fertile earth, the boundless sea, the burning mountain, 
 have made the seat of Naples famous from immemorial 
 time. Its origin is lost in fable. Before Rome rose or 
 Troy fell, Parthenope, the ancient city, looked upon this 
 lovely bay. 
 
 The neighboring soil, so often rocked by earthquakes, 
 and still smouldering with hidden fires, is strewed with 
 the wrecks of classic fanes and villas. There were the 
 haunts of the Sibyls and Cimmerians, of Circe and the 
 Syrens. There were the Elysian fields, and Tartarus ; 
 the Stygian lake, and the "infernal" rivers. There 
 the ancient gallants had every recreation for their sum 
 mer hours luxurious baths, gymnastic games, and 
 festal shows, and Grecian art delicious fishes, rich 
 Falernian wine, and oysters from the Lucrine lake. 
 There are boiling fountains ; old tunnels, quarried 
 through hills of rock ; grottos, extending through 
 
 darkness and water, none knows wither. Fields, 
 
 (119)
 
 120 NAPLES. 
 
 sprinkled with alum and sulphur, which echo to the 
 tread like vaults, or quiver with the roar of internal 
 wind or fire. Caverns, emitting mephitic gases which 
 give dogs convulsions. Hills, which have risen, and 
 shores which have appeared, since the crusades. Lakes, 
 over which no bird can fly ; and Vesuvius with its white 
 crown of smoke, and in the evenings, magnificent with 
 flames, and red hot stones, and streams of burning lava. 
 
 The citizens of Naples live in a single story of large 
 houses, whose entrance door admits a carriage. Hotels 
 embrace only one floor. Barons and laborers occupy 
 different flats, under the same roof; and shops are in 
 the basement of palaces. Coral and lava ornaments, 
 olives and oil are staples of trade. Food and clothing 
 are cheap, though the nominal prices are extravagant. 
 Gold is scarce, because the Jews, they say, melt it 
 down for trinkets. Servants wear cocked hats and 
 swords. 
 
 Begging is not peculiar to the poor, or the maimed. 
 The man who sells you boots, the idler who directs your 
 way, the sister from the convent, who goes veiled ; as 
 well as the waiter in the cafe, and the driver of the cab, 
 ask you for a present. Lazaroni, unclean and lazy, 
 lie, like snakes or negroes, on the sunny sides of streets, 
 redolent of garlic. The wives of fishers sit knitting 
 nets outside of the doors. Vagabonds are seen search 
 ing one another's heads with a fidelity they exhibit in 
 no other pursuit. 
 
 The donkeys are as small as dogs, and carry every 
 imaginable commodity barrels, dry goods, manure, 
 stones, wood, vegetables, furniture and haystacks. 
 They are often without halters, but always with crup-
 
 NAPLES. 121 
 
 pers ; and the driver, when he rides on the load, uses 
 the tail for a bridle. 
 
 The Galesso, a vehicle with two high wheels, is drawn 
 by one horse ; whose gears, and a weathercock over the 
 saddle, glitter with brass nails. The shafts are raised 
 nearly a foot above the horse's back. It has a seat for 
 two persons, but it carries a mob. The capuchin in 
 his cowl, the priest in black robe, women in red shawls 
 and wooden shoes, porters and hawkers of nuts and 
 fruits, and others, nearly a score, pay a penny a-piece ; 
 and hang to the springs,, the seat, the stirrups, and the 
 axle, as it rushes headlong through the streets. 
 
 The San Carlos opera house is unequaled for size. 
 On the King's birth night, it was bright with gold and 
 candles. The King, a large young man, with a dull, 
 unpleasant countenance, wore a military coat, and bow 
 ed distrustfully to the applause which greeted him. 
 His queen and his mother were present ; and their hair, 
 their arms, and their busts blazed with diamonds. The 
 audience were in full dress. White cravats and gloves, 
 military feathers and epaulettes, lace and flowers, re 
 presented all the aristocracies of profession, rank and 
 beauty; and the rarest music of orchestra and. actors, 
 charmed away the hours. 
 
 One day an officer's funeral passed the Hotel. The 
 corpse, in uniform and uncovered, was borne on mens' 
 shoulders. It was escorted by two priests in black, 
 and several monks completely masked in white, except 
 the eyes ; one of whom held up the cross. A proces 
 sion, with religious banners, followed, all bearing 
 torches in their hands, and chanting as they marched. 
 
 .OHUit^'fifi; :f^W \ II M - I': 
 
 11
 
 VESUVIUS AND POMPEII. 
 
 From Resina, a small village, we started on horseback 
 for the top of Vesuvius. There were then evident signs 
 of an imminent eruption. With a fellow hanging to 
 each pony's tail ; passing through groups of children and 
 mendicants ; by vines and mulberries ; round curves and 
 over stones ; racing and shouting, we reached the hermi 
 tage. The air was pleasant, the view vast and splendid ; 
 the wine sweet, and piously recommended as " the tears 
 of Christ." 
 
 Passing hence over waves of lava, which seemed to 
 have frozen as they heaved ; we gained the base of a 
 declivity, which no beast could climb. We dismounted, 
 and up the long slippery steep ; over pumice rocks ; 
 ankle deep in ashes ; leaning on sticks ; clutching at 
 loose cinders ; sliping over patches of snow ; amidst the 
 importunities of beggars, guides and hucksters, we 
 toiled ; perspired, and stopped. Refreshed with rest and 
 lunch ; after many falls and bruises ; red in the face ; 
 panting and exhausted, we stood on the old crater. 
 
 It extended around like a plain, the surface was 
 broken by small elevations, and deep glowing fissures. 
 Having ascended higher, we glanced down into the huge 
 volcanic furnace. This crater was vast in its circuit, 
 high above the sea, indefinitely deep. The blaze, the 
 roar, the missiles, and the quivering crust were appalling. 
 
 (122)
 
 VESUVIUS AND POMPEII. 123 
 
 Explosions broke forth with the noise of a thousand 
 gnns. The whole mountain trembled. Sulphurous 
 smoke issued out in clouds. Flames of red and blue 
 surged against the sloping sides. The molten lava 
 heaved up and overflowed, threatening the vineyards and 
 villages below. Vollies of stones shot up like rockets, 
 and came rattling back, burning as they fell. One 
 person was struck in the face ; another one on the hand ; 
 and that night, another was fatally injured. Far below 
 us were seen the shores so often desolated by former 
 eruptions. 
 
 We descended, and visited the theatre of Herculaneum, 
 beneath the surface of the ground ; gloomy but well 
 preserved. We wandered through Pompeii, along the 
 lava paved streets ; across which a man could leap, 
 and which still show the ruts of chariot wheels. The 
 houses are generally of brick, and small ; some with 
 mosaic floors, with baths, and courts, and fountains, and 
 painted walls. The Forum abounds with temples and 
 columns, in various stages of decay. The theatres with 
 stone seats, with entrances, and aisles seem almost 
 uninjured. 
 
 But all was silent and empty. For eighteen hundred 
 years these buildings have had no occupants ; these 
 sidewalks have been untrodden ; this town has had no 
 hum of voices, and no sound of busy life. No idle crowds 
 go greeting through the market. No devotees climb the 
 steps of marble fanes. No fires consume upon the al 
 tars. No sentinel, " helmed and tall," stands by the 
 gateway. No combat stains the arena. The clatter of 
 hoofs, the voice of eloquence, the song of joy, the wail of 
 woe, the strife of trade, the pomp of festivals, have disap-
 
 124 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 peared. Orator and augur, athlete and author, toga 
 and stola, Lares and Penates, pageant and people have 
 passed away. Snakes and foxes have their dens in this 
 once pleasant city of the Classic Empire. 
 
 In the museum at Naples, are collected some of the 
 relics of the buried towns. The sculpture which adorned 
 their porticos. Pictured vases and articles in stone, 
 and the precious metals, which furnished their parlors. 
 Bottles in which they preserved their tears. The urns 
 which held their dust. The silver mirrors of their toi 
 lettes. Papyrus on which they wrote. Gold rings and 
 bracelets of the women. Necklaces of their nobles. A 
 chariot of iron and leather. Their bronze lamps and 
 oil. The metal spoons, and plate of their table. The 
 wine and bread of which they ate and drank. 
 
 These have been taken from the ruins caused by the 
 first eruption of the mountain, in A. D. 79. Previously, 
 all the neighboring slopes and shores were remarkable 
 for their culture and population. Virgil, in the Geor- 
 gics, speaks of the fitness of Vesuvius for olives and 
 vines. Strabo describes it in the same way, except the 
 summit, which was barren. Martial celebrates it as the 
 haunt of Bacchus, and where temples stood to Venus, 
 and to Hercules. Tacitus also tells how its beauty was 
 marred by the ravages of volcanic fire. Pliny alludes 
 to the numerous towns and villas that were overwhelmed, 
 by the eruption which he witnessed. 
 
 In a letter to Tacitus, he says ; that a curious cloud of 
 smoke, in the shape of a pine tree, rose over the mountain. 
 That his uncle hastened, with the fleet- under his com 
 mand, to rescue the people, who were flying terror 
 stricken, in all directions. That great black hot rocks
 
 VESUVIUS AND NAPLES. 125 
 
 rolled down to the water, and showers of burning ashes 
 fell upon the vessels. That having landed at Stabiae, 
 they were obliged to abandon the falling houses, and 
 resort to the fields ; with pillows on their heads, to 
 protect them from the pelting stones. That returning 
 to the coast, the violence of the waves prevented their 
 embarkation. That a sulphurous vapour prevailed, 
 which they avoided by lying on their faces, with wet 
 napkins to their mouths. That his uncle rising, fell 
 down suffocated. That three or four days passed in 
 darkness, with no light but the occasional flames from 
 the volcano, and the moving torches of distracted people.
 
 THE ESCURIAL. 
 
 This mass of masonry is not far from Madrid, and 
 represents a convent, sepulchre, and palace. It was 
 designed for the honor of a saint ; on whose day a victory 
 was won ; and according to the plan of a gridiron, on 
 which he died a martyr. It was built by the first archi 
 tect, under the most potent Prince, and in the palmiest 
 time of Spain. 
 
 It is a huge pile of dark gray granite like the hills 
 behind it ; with plain rectangular walls unusually thick ; 
 pierced with little prison windows ; and covers an area 
 nearly equal to the base of the largest pyramid. It has 
 four square towers, tapering into slender spires ; an 
 oblong addition to one side, representing the feet and 
 handle of the model ; three stone belfries rising from 
 the centre ; and two rows of Doric columns over the 
 front entrance. Its extent, height, and sombre hue 
 make it an imposing feature in the landscape. 
 
 In the interior are numerous courts, with fountains, 
 and statues, and alleys paved, or sanded. Grand stair 
 ways and corridors, wide enough for coaches to pass, are 
 arched over, and adorned with pictures, in fresco and on 
 canvas. The chambers of the monks are plain and 
 small. The saloons of the monarch are floored with 
 costly wood and marble, and lined with tapestry and 
 satin. The vaults vie with those of Thebes, in splendor, 
 
 (126)
 
 THE ESCURIAL. 127 
 
 but not in size ; precious stones flash light from the 
 walls ; and elaborate urns contain the jeweled sculls of 
 Kings. Jasper columns, lofty domes, and tesselated 
 pavements adorn the chapel. Few worshipers are seen ; 
 occasionally, a woman wearing a mantilla veil, kneels be 
 fore the virgin. The Priests slip along in soft sandals to 
 perform the morning mass. 
 
 The loneliness is oppressive. The Monks have passed 
 away, and Royalty returns no more. The long cloisters 
 hardly yield a sound, except the footfall of the stranger. 
 The shady pebbled walks are overgrown ; and fragrant 
 plants waste their sweetness, like the desert flowers. 
 Behind are barren mountains ; before, are barren plains, 
 and all around are signs of decay. Capacious houses 
 are near ; many were never finished ; some are in ruins ; 
 most are deserted. Weeds cling upon the walls ; bats 
 and lizards peer from the crevices ; storks beat their 
 wings upon the chimines ; lean black pigs root along the 
 alleys ; goats browse in the grassy streets, and dogs and 
 shepherds keep watch from the empty doorways.
 
 A BULL FIGHT IN MADRID. 
 
 A bull fight reminds us of those exhibitions of the 
 Colosseum, to which the populace crowded, on the holi 
 days of Rome. The city of Madrid was unusually 
 animated, on the afternoon when we witnessed that 
 cruel sport. The streets were filled with a confused 
 throng, driving, riding, and on foot. 
 
 Some were in carriages, with arms and coronets on 
 the panels, and liveried lackeys behind. In little 
 gigs, painted like tea boxes, with a seat for one, con 
 taining five ; and the driver running by the side. In 
 cabs, with calico tops, and seats and bottoms made of 
 matting. In omnibuses, drawn by mules shaved like 
 Moslem heads, and covered with red tassels and brass 
 bells. On horses, with long flowing tails, stepping with 
 the grace of true Cordovian barbs. On donkeys, wag 
 ging their long ears over their innocent noses and de 
 jected eyes ; humble as politicians broken down. 
 
 Pedestrians in various costumes ; mingling silk and 
 rags ; breathing garlic and cologne. Lovely senoritas, 
 with round warm faces, with mantillas instead of bon 
 nets, and fans for parasols. Men in cloaks and shawls, 
 with hats in the shape of turbans, embroidered jackets, 
 leathern gaiters, and sashes of red or yellow. Some 
 merely in shirts, and muslin breeches reaching to the 
 knees. Some gaily dressed with straps and eye-glass, 
 
 (128)
 
 A BULL FIGHT IN MADRID. 129 
 
 like the last pictures in the tailor shops. Little boys, 
 and little girls, running loose, or carried in the arms. 
 Old people, without teeth ; beggars and cripples, with 
 their sores and filth. Water carriers, with tin cases 
 and clay jars ; street dancers, with castanets ; street 
 sweepers and their brooms. Mule barbers, with shears 
 in their girdles. Shepherds in sheepskins, from the 
 mountains ; policemen, with feathered hats ; blind harp 
 ers ; distracted strangers ; brigands in disguise. 
 
 All were passing onward, through the many sultry 
 avenues, out the city gates, to the scene of blood and 
 danger ; to applaud or hiss a poor dumb beast, or more 
 pitiable man. The seats around the enclosure, rising 
 like stairs, were soon filled. Thirteen thousand heads 
 were piled one above another ; moving as many tongues 
 in shouts and laughter ; and twice as many eyes, for 
 curiosity or conquest. There were opera curls and 
 opera glasses ; white gloves and white cravats ; the 
 waving of colored paper fans ; and the smoke of paper 
 segars ; and the cries of hucksters, vending fire, oranges 
 and water. There was the royal box, with rich cur 
 tains ; unoccupied, for the Queen was indisposed. 
 Next to it, sat the Governor of the town and his 
 council. All along were deputies, ministers, high mili 
 tary officers, noblemen, and ambassadors the blood 
 and distinction of the city. 
 
 The sand was sprinkled, soon to be stained. Now 
 a trumpet sounds. A dozen men enter some on foot, 
 richly clad in silk and gold, with colored mantles on 
 their arms three mounted, with their legs in iron 
 greaves, and blunt lances, made to wound, not kill. A
 
 130 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 subordinate, in short black cloak and ostrich plumes, 
 receives a key from the Acalde. 
 
 Another trumpet and the bull bounds from his dark 
 den into the arena. He quivers at first with fear ; or 
 is bewildered by the sudden light, and the uproar of 
 the scene. Provoked by the matadores, who close 
 around him their dazzling shawls, he lashes his sides ; 
 paws the dust ; his red eyes glare defiance, and with a 
 terrific roar, he rushes headlong amongst his foes. But 
 in vain. 
 
 They leap out of his course ; or on his back ; or over 
 the barrier ; or throw a cloak on his head. More furi 
 ous from vexation, he plunges towards a horseman 
 nor stops for the lance which pierces his shoulder nor 
 turns aside for the cunning mantle, until he buries his 
 huge horns in the warm body of the steed ; tossing him 
 and his rider, like toys, upon the ground. 
 
 Then ensues a sight which makes one sick at heart. 
 The wounded beast is remounted, and urged on afresh. 
 The blood is flowing audibly from his gored chest ; or 
 still worse, his ragged bowels hang dripping from his 
 side ; or trail along the sand, until torn away by the 
 tramp of his own hoofs and he falls a shocking, 
 mangled mass ; besmearing the rider and the ring with 
 his reeking corpse. 
 
 The bull is diverted to an opposite quarter, and at 
 tacks another horse. He throws him backward on his 
 haunches ; or breaks his leg ; or rips the hide half off 
 his breast ; or gives him a mortal thrust ; that he rears, 
 springs, and dies. Thus he may have killed a fourth 
 or fifth ; when weary and weak ; with bleeding neck 
 and lolling tongue ; familiar with the game ; content
 
 A BULL FIGHT IN MADRID. 131 
 
 with triumph, he stands at bay ; and awaits, but does 
 not court the combat. 
 
 The crowd become impatient, and the trumpet sounds. 
 Bearded darts, in painted papers, are daringly and dex 
 terously planted in his shoulders. These, charged with 
 percussion powder, instantly explode, but still cling to 
 the hide, and sting him to madness. He jumps ; tosses 
 his head ; bellows with rage and pain ; strikes against 
 the barrier ; leaps on or over it, and stamps amongst 
 the carcasses around him, till he is almost exhausted. 
 
 Again, there is a signal. The matadore bowing to 
 the Director, pale with excitement; or flush with con 
 fidence, like an ambitious player, approaches to per 
 form the closing act. A successful blow may win a 
 mistress, a fortune, or a name. A blunder may cause 
 his death ; will provoke the hooting of the mob, and 
 throw confusion on his hopes. 
 
 Long he shakes his crimson shawl, and points his 
 glittering spear, and often strikes in vain. The wary 
 brute becomes aggressive, and sometimes nearly victor. 
 But in an instant, the steel point appears beneath the 
 shoulder it is not fatal another weapon is sheathed in 
 his body yet he still carries them, and still stands un- 
 conquered, though failing from half a hundred wounds. 
 
 Another blow and the last. The blood spouts from 
 his nostrils he groans he reels he stumbles he 
 falls! The matadore bows the people shout ladies 
 wave their handkerchiefs and mules, with flags and 
 ribbons, haul away the carcasses, amidst the lively 
 strains of martial music.
 
 132 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 Thus battle after battle proceeds. Perhaps a dozen 
 horses, and half as many bulls are slain, before the sun 
 goes down on this barbarian sport ; and the burning of 
 the paper fans, and the final blast of the bugle, tell 
 when the satiated crowd retire.
 
 
 THE ORIENT. 
 
 A fascination has always been connected with the 
 East. It is the " morning land," where Aurora with her 
 rosy fingers opens the gates of day. Whence the light 
 of knowledge and religion first beamed upon the world. 
 Where the human race was cradled society formed 
 government organized the ground first tilled property 
 acquired labor paid nature studied truth adored. 
 
 Towards it, commerce has ever been seeking new 
 routes. To it, military ambition has always tended for 
 glory and dominion. It is endeared to us by the story 
 books of childhood ; by the delicious coloring of ro 
 mance ; by the honest claims of history ; by the miracles 
 of God. 
 
 It has been described as a land of songs and birds, of 
 bards and seers, of love and indolence where the skies 
 are pearl, the waters nectar, the forests perfume, the 
 winds music 
 
 " Where the virgins are lovely as the roses they twine, 
 And all, save the spirit of man is divine." 
 
 The traveler realizes a different picture. He finds 
 desolation as well as abundance ; a luxurious climate, 
 but a wretched civilization ; dark, dull countenances, 
 and strange customs which never alter. Every thing 
 tends to surprise him. There, boys and girls of twelve 
 years old marry without love ; and the dead are buried 
 
 (133) 12
 
 134 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 without coffins. The people sit on their ancles, sleep in 
 their clothes ; and carry their bed on their arm. They 
 have no prejudice against color, and none against dirt. 
 They dig the earth with their hands, and wash clothes 
 with their feet. Many of them have only one eye, and 
 only nine fingers. The servant runs ahead of the mas 
 ter, and the donkey is driven by the tail. The cur 
 rency is in specie, the lowest coin is worth one fifth of 
 a cent ; and the laborer is paid a sixpence a day. 
 
 They keep their head covered, but take off their slip 
 pers, when they enter a house. Children are carried on 
 the shoulders, and not in the arms ; and mourners go 
 about in white. The poor run barefoot ; and trades are 
 transmitted with the blood. The butter is made of 
 goat's milk the bottles of goat's skin. The officials 
 all take bribes ; and the law puts a price on crime. 
 Spectacles and umbrellas, are rarely seen ; and wheel 
 barrows are unknown. 
 
 The shops have no signs ; the streets no sidewalks ; 
 the houses no carpets ; the fields no fences. The violin 
 has only two strings ; and the fiddler, elsewhere, would 
 attract the stones of the streets, but not like Orpheus. 
 They hang pieces of their garments on trees, to cure 
 their maladies. Constables carry whips instead of pis 
 tols the horses wear bells and beads. The bridle bit 
 is shaped like a cross the stirrups resemble coal 
 shovels the shoe like a ring covers all the foot, but the 
 frog. The khans, or taverns furnish nothing but 
 chambers and vermin the guest finds his own couch, 
 and cooks his own meals. He must bargain with the 
 thieves, and pay one, to protect him from the others.
 
 THE ORIENT. 135 
 
 The men wear a sort of petticoat and turbans, instead 
 of hats. The women wear a sort of trowsers, and veils 
 instead of bonnets. The latter dye their nails and eyes, 
 to make them handsome. The former shave their heads, 
 to make them cool. Both sexes smoke neither chews, 
 tobacco. Everybody likes ottar of roses, and everybody 
 smells of garlic. 
 
 The windows are seldom glazed with glass. They 
 thresh grain by driving a sled over the sheaves. They 
 grind flour, by hand, in a mortar. The carpenter holds 
 the board which he saws, by his toes. Nobody is in 
 dustrious, but the flies and the fleas. None are inde 
 pendent, but the dogs. None are useful, but the camels 
 and asses.
 
 ORATION ON THE 22d FEBRUARY, 1848. 
 
 It is not without diffidence, that one rises in so large 
 and enlightened a presence blest with gallantry and 
 beauty, gay colors, and sweet music gathered from no 
 compulsory influence ; from no motive of sectional in 
 terest, or sectarian prejudice, or party policy, or per 
 sonal advantage. But met from the spontaneous im 
 pulse of hearts, exhilirated with patriotic associations ; 
 to commemorate the noblest example of humanity which 
 the world ever displayed. 
 
 Admiration for whatever is great and good, is a 
 prominent attribute of the human mind. Pure in its 
 source, and salutary in its influence, it gives a redeem 
 ing charm to man's fallen nature, and measurably 
 counteracts his continual proclivity to evil and error. 
 It is as universal as reflection. It is witnessed in every 
 period of social progress, and every stage of individual 
 development. It glows like ' a flame in the buoyant 
 breast of youth, and warms with enthusiasm the failing 
 faculties of age. Communities and countries feel its 
 control, and acknowledge it, by manifestations the most 
 signal, and conspicuous. 
 
 This holiday proclaims and illustrates the principle. 
 It is living evidence, and will be through coming years, 
 of national regard for virtue. Its observance gives a 
 perpetual promise to worth, and an incessant spur to 
 
 (136)
 
 ORATION. 137 
 
 duty. It teaches, with an authority more potent than 
 the schools, with an eloquence more magical than man's, 
 the true philosophy of life. It addresses every sense ; 
 arrests the usual course of thought ; revives or creates 
 impressions of brilliant events ; recalls for contempla 
 tion a character, which has wrung fame from the mis 
 anthrope and the cynic ; which has received unanimous 
 and unqualified applause, and formed an era, and re 
 mains a model, in the history of the race. 
 
 Great qualities had been observed before. Great 
 achievements had been accomplished in every field of 
 human energy and devotion, and the earth was dotted 
 with monuments to great names. There had been 
 patriotism which immolated the heart that cherished it 
 courage, which sought danger as the wassailer seeks 
 the revel and the bowl virtue, which passed like the 
 prophet, in triumph, through the flames genius, which 
 seemed to survey the intellectual world, as with the 
 vision of an angel. Yet, these were isolated traits, or 
 mixed with wrong, or cursed with baser passions. 
 
 But here, was an unalloyed concentration of the use 
 ful elements of human nature. Such as men had 
 imagined, yet of whose reality they had never been 
 assured. The past is sought in vain wherever occasion 
 had required or exhibited great powers the grove, the 
 portico, the agora, the temple, the games, the triumph, 
 the palace, the senate ; even ancient Olympus itself, 
 trembling with the innumerable thrones of mortals 
 deified, yielded no type nor fellow. 
 
 Heroes before had flourished and perished. Some had 
 written their deeds in blood ; forged their names in fire ; 
 cast down great empires. Some had framed wise rules
 
 138 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 of civil action, to unite and preserve communities. 
 Some had charmed mankind by beautiful embodiments 
 of imagination, and thrilling descriptions of feelings, 
 thoughts and truths. Some had lifted the veil from 
 physical mysteries, and displayed the sublime theology 
 of nature. But no other, than our own national father 
 had been so proved in emergency ; in peril ; in toil ; in 
 temptation had done such precious service had accom 
 plished so much, so well. 
 
 Positive and pre-eminent in his merits, he appeared 
 to unite all the charms and graces with which the muse 
 loves to adorn her creations. In him, were illustrated 
 the wisest maxims of the teachers, and the purest pre 
 cepts of the books. Faults in man to be expected, in 
 him, had no place. Traits of excellence, rare alone, 
 were in him, combined ; and their rays happily blend 
 ing in one radiant glow, shone like a miracle, attesting 
 the mission he was charged with. He was, indeed, a 
 living revelation ; and the seals of his authority were 
 with him ; impressed upon his life by the very auto 
 graph of God. 
 
 He was to be an example at which reproach could 
 not point its finger ; which envy could not depreciate ; 
 by which ambition might learn the lesson of benevo 
 lence ; pride, the merit of humility ; and truth be jus 
 tified of her offspring. He was to harmonize discordant 
 sentiments ; direct wayward sympathies to a single 
 object; inspire capability with faith in itself ; unite in 
 a common cause, with a simultaneous impulse, energies 
 distracted and conflicting ; and retrieve the lost sov 
 ereignty of individual man. He was to be an instru 
 ment of political salvation.
 
 ORATION. 139 
 
 Before his influence was felt, every government had 
 failed to promote the common weal. Every kind of 
 rule, which avoided oppression, was unfit to protect. 
 Power was the companion of tyranny. Liberty and 
 security appeared to be incompatible. 
 
 The masses exercised no rights : and their whole duty 
 was submission. They were without responsibility, and 
 without choice. No provision was made for their inter 
 est ; no consideration was given to their opinion. 
 Their claims to participation were treated with derision. 
 Their prayers for relief were rebuked by accumulated 
 wrong. Justice, withheld its dues ; charity, its allow 
 ance. If they had not suffered, they should have re 
 sisted. If their condition had been easy, it was yet 
 degrading ; for it implied the principle of subjection, 
 and acknowledged their incapacity. 
 
 But these relations were to be changed. The world 
 had grown wiser and better. It became actuated by 
 new spirits, and practical aims. The temple gates of 
 knowledge had been wide open flung ; and the common 
 mind had entered. New sentiments were developed and 
 diffused ; information was scattered abroad ; the bread 
 had been cast upon the waters, and the time of its 
 gathering was at hand. 
 
 Signal results appeared ; an altered Order of events 
 followed. Fictions, gave way to facts ; words, to 
 things ; students of the cloister, to students of the 
 world ; schoolmen to statesmen. The doctrine of equal 
 rights was investigated and asserted. The presumption 
 of the dominant few was assailed. Sacrifices were 
 anticipated without alarm, and endured without regret.
 
 140 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 Death was deemed milder than tribute ; life was not to 
 be compared with principle. 
 
 Force, wealth, birth, station, and prescription no 
 longer constituted pre-eminence. Badges, the robe, the 
 mitre, the crown, the sword became equally disregarded 
 and despised, as the emblems of merit, and the means 
 of control. The superstitions, which time had almost 
 hallowed ; the prejudices of the throne ; the bigotry of 
 the church, declined. The mystery which invested an 
 cient forms : the obscurity which concealed ancient error, 
 disappeared. The explosion of false dogmas, and the 
 wholesome effects of contending castes and creeds, suc 
 ceeded. 
 
 On a new soil arose the struggle of republicanism. 
 Society was shaken with the strife of hostile systems 
 and relations. Returning gloom and confusion threat 
 ened to prevail. The genius of Washington moved 
 over the troubled elements. A new political creation 
 dawned. 
 
 It seemed adapted to the requirements of the time. 
 It concided with the changed habitudes of thought ; 
 with the improved notions of right ; with the new politi 
 cal nature of man. It presented a theatre of influence 
 extensive and attractive ; uncursed with the trammels 
 of custom ; untainted with the breath of tyranny ; where 
 faith and freedom joined their altars, and mingled 
 their blessings ; where the foundations of glorious insti 
 tutions were laid ; where a hopeful community was 
 planted, to expand and flourish for ages. 
 
 Look around, for it is here it is ours, upon the 
 seat and operation of its energies. Protected by wide 
 seas from the perplexing interference of alien and un-
 
 ORATION. 141 
 
 friendly powers. Covering an area which surpasses in 
 extent the territory of all the chief nations of antiquity. 
 
 Grooved with rivers in which all the navies of the 
 world could ride. Girt with a sea coast stretching one 
 fourth of the circuit of the globe. Yielding infinite 
 facilities for exchange and intercourse. Displaying the 
 beauty of every scenery ; the fertility of every soil ; 
 minerals of every mark ; the flowers of the East ; the 
 luxuries of the line ; valleys lovely as Yemen ; shores 
 prolific as the Nile ; the roses of Palestine ; the orchards 
 of Persia ; the cane fields of Jamaica ; the vineyards of 
 the Rhine ; the gold of India ; the iron of Britian ; the 
 marble of PentelicuS. 
 
 With such extraordinary advantages from nature is 
 our country blessed. With an origin not confused in 
 the gloom of fable, nor stained by criminal success ; but 
 creditable, fortunate, and manifest. With a history so 
 brief, yet so illustrious. Still in the period of national 
 youth, yet performing prodigies in skill and valor. 
 And now at a time of unwonted activity, when earth 
 rings with the ceaseless noise of enterprise and toil 
 she appears like the leader of the nations, cheering them 
 with her voice and example, as they marvel at her march, 
 and crowd upon her wake. Joy attends her at every 
 step ; obstacles sink before her ; success crowns her 
 efforts. She counsels with the wisdom of Minerva ; she 
 labors with the hand of Hercules ; she fights with the 
 sword of Mars. 
 
 See the results of her power, in the cities she has 
 reared along the banks of waters, and on the plains ; 
 embellished with every charm which taste desires, or 
 opulence can furnish ; and murmuring with the ever
 
 142 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 grateful echo of employment and content. And in the 
 channeled mountains, the artificial tides, the iron roads 
 and iron steed ; the harvest whitening on the site of the 
 wilderness ; learning sought where ignorance had spread 
 its pall ; religion kneeling on the grave of idols. 
 
 And in her armies of citizen soldiers, instinct with 
 valor as with the love of country and feelings of honor ; 
 intelligent and cultivated ; the source of prosperity in 
 peace, and their career in battle stranger than fiction. 
 No records, no fables match them ; resistless as the sea ; 
 forward from field to field, like fate ; wrenching victory 
 from surpassing force, from impregnable walls. And 
 kind as fierce ; as merciful by the litter of the wounded, 
 as terrible in the ridges of battle ; lenient in the midst 
 of rage; sparing in the hour of revenge. And this day, a 
 year ago, in the fatal vale of Angostura, the American 
 volunteer, amidst the crashing of bones, and the red 
 gush of blood, expressed an energy and a soul, which 
 have crowned the name with everlasting laurel. 
 
 These are the legitimate consequences of national 
 institutions and habits of those fundamental principles, 
 which recognize the existence of absolute rights, and 
 individual independence. Unspeakably happy may we 
 be, that our lot has been cast in a country so highly 
 favored as our own. Possessing, as it does, all the materi 
 als of power in union ; the security of freedom in universal 
 interest and responsibility ; in the prevalence of Christian 
 morals, and the spread of letters. While the certainty 
 of reward and the confidence of protection, insure the 
 display of effort, the progress of art, the perfection of 
 means, and the accumulation of wealth.
 
 ORATION. 143 
 
 It is the land of Washington, immeasurably blessed 
 and famous by his birth and deeds. A land of great 
 works and changes of free discussion of healthful 
 excitement of active curiosity of remarkable results. 
 A land of steam, of lightning of commerce, of inven 
 tion of liberality, of sympathy, of knowledge of re 
 ligious toleration, of missionary zeal, of civil equality, 
 of female influence of the bible, of the press, of the 
 schoolmaster. A land of public opinion. 
 
 But not such opinion as in other places, and at differ 
 ent periods, affected the customs and conditions of 
 people. Not suoh as at one time, regarded Polytheism 
 with favor ; physical courage as the highest virtue ; and 
 suicide as an honorable death. Not such as received, 
 with reverence and faith, prophetic declarations from the 
 Pythian tripod ; or conformed the course of enterprise 
 to the conventional omens of elements and brutes. Not 
 such as imputed merit to the magician's wand, or read in 
 the necromantic mirror of the future, the fortunes of 
 characters and countries. Not such as encouraged the 
 fierce fanaticism of the Koran and the Crusades. Not 
 such as upheld the terrors of the Inquisition, or the 
 military tyranny of the feudal system ; as fostered the 
 delirious spirit of chivalrous adventure, turning life into 
 romance with the gay tournaments of Templars, and the 
 amorous roundelays of Troubadours. Not such as 
 tolerated torture amongst the punishments of criminal 
 law ; or ordeals by fire and water amongst its methods 
 of trial ; or applauded the reckless blasphemy of the 
 Cyclopedists, or maintained the orthodoxy of indul 
 gences, the pretensions of rank, or the divine preroga- 
 ative of Kings.
 
 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 But an opinion, formed by universal reflection, and 
 criticism the aggregate judgment of mankind tlie 
 public conscience of the world, qualified and enlightened 
 by the influence of Christian revelation. Comprehend 
 ing and sustaining the appropriate relation of things ; 
 the principles of rights and obligations ; the interests 
 and responsibilities of life. Speaking with a sponta 
 neous and united effort, approving^ whatever promotes ; 
 and denouncing whatever opposes human happiness 
 
 Our country thus upheld by such a moral force ; by 
 constitutional provisions of equal operation and general 
 advantage ; and by the prompt and matchless prowess 
 of her children we can prescribe no limits to her pro 
 gress ; and patriotism, may dream of continual dura 
 tion, and universal fame. Of the time, when she shall 
 control and direct the course and destiny of civilized 
 society. When her commerce shall be vaster than all 
 which Venice had, and Albion has, combined. When 
 the productions of her handicraft shall be more reputed 
 than those of the Sidonian artists. When her soldiers 
 shall accomplish more than the Roman or the Gaul. 
 When her orators shall leave loftier models than the 
 Greek or Saxon. When her bards shall sing diviner 
 melodies than his, whose muse soared above the Aonian 
 Mount ; or his, the blind Maeonides of seven cities 
 claimed. 
 
 And her flag shall float on every wave, and in every 
 wind, representing the purest government and happiest 
 people ; the emblem of political faith and redemption 
 to millions, wrestling in the darkness and debasement 
 of oppression. And her voice shall ever nerve the 
 timid ; cheer the feeble ; sever the bonds ; break the
 
 ORATION. 145 
 
 yokes ; fling wide the prison doors ; open the blinded 
 eyes ; unseal the silent lips, till the world rings with 
 paeans to her praise. And there shall be no darkness 
 in her future ; no failing in the vigor of her institu 
 tions ; no change in her original principles ; no bounds 
 to her development and growth, to the trophies of her 
 toil and arms ; no halting in her brilliant course, till 
 her rivers cease to flow, and her iron hills shall fade ; 
 and freedom, and time, and she, with a common fate, 
 expire together. 
 
 Such anticipations fill us with thrilling reflections ; 
 stimulate every patriotic propensity ; expand our chari 
 ties ; elevate our sentiments ; argue against our frailty, 
 and flatter our pride. But prospects so gratifying may 
 be delusive. Decay, with her ashy fingers, seems to 
 have written ruin on everything of human skill. Na 
 tions, like those who compose them, appear to be born 
 with the doom of dissolution to flourish for awhile and 
 then pass away. 
 
 Such is the lesson of experience, 
 
 " And the moral of all human tales, 
 'Tis but the same rehearsal of the past ! 
 First freedom, then glory ! when that fails, 
 Wealth, vice, corruption barbarism at last. 
 And history, with all her volumes vast, 
 Hath but one page." 
 
 Desolation and mystery reign over the courts and py- 
 lones of Luxor and Karnak, and the mausolea of the 
 Pharaohs. The satyr and the bittern possess the halls 
 and palaces, in which the Assyrian nobles had their 
 orgies, and Belus his smoking altars. The lonely 
 fisherman dries his net on tho rocks, where the Tyrian 
 
 13
 
 146 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 merchants heaped up purple and gold. Degeneracy 
 and ruin mark the city, where the Athenian gazed with 
 rapture on the temple of his tutelar goddess, decorated 
 by the chisel of Phidias and the pencil of Zeuxis ; or 
 beheld justice issuing, pure as heaven, from the hill of 
 Mars ; or witnessed Socrates illustrating the virtuous 
 philosophy he taught ; or heard and believed the elo 
 quence of Pericles proclaiming the state immortal. 
 Lazaroni lead the pensive stranger over hillocks of 
 crushed columns and sculptured fragments ; seeking 
 the ways along which Caesar's legions passed with spoil 
 and captives ; or the temple walls, in which Tully last 
 harangued the Conscript fathers. Gone is the dynasty 
 of the Abassides ; and the glory of Bagdad, whose long 
 caravans daily left her gates, to distribute the intel 
 lectual treasures of her students, and the costly wares 
 of her cunning workmen. 
 
 These nations had not, indeed, the instruction which 
 their own, and succeeding experiments, have yielded. 
 They had not our facilities of travel and communica 
 tion. They had not heard, or heeded the voice which, 
 by the seashore and the wayside, by Genesareth, and 
 on the mountain, preached the new kingdom of love. 
 But their systems were defective, because they were 
 human and ours of like original, may share their fate. 
 But when, or how by choice or chance ; by foreign or 
 internal force or fraud ; by sudden or continued in 
 jury ; by luxury or by ambition no Sibyl leaves can 
 tell, no oracle"can answer. 
 
 She may fall by her own hand ; a sacrifice upon her 
 own altar ; the victim of her own shame ; the spoil of 
 her own passions. She may fall in the prime of vigor ;
 
 ORATION. 147 
 
 amidst the wildest convulsions, amidst the tumult of 
 tumbling thrones and senates, and the conflict and 
 blood of extended revolution. Her sun may go down 
 in clouds and storm, "casting disastrous" darkness o'er 
 the nations it may go down in light, splendid to the 
 last, its beams long illuminating the firmament it leaves 
 forever. 
 
 But by restraining the license of party spirit ; by 
 the exercise of vigilant care over the elective privilege ; 
 by the untrammeled administration of jurisprudence ; 
 by giving unremitting attention to mental cultivation, 
 and unfailing recompense to works of art and acts of 
 merit ; by inculcating a rational reverence for the day 
 of holy rest ; and the practice and precepts of Chris 
 tian worship, this nation will be a blessing to countless 
 generations, who in succession will fill our places. 
 
 Then let her cling to her early virtues ; let her em 
 brace only that which will exalt her ; let her extend 
 her dominion only to enlighten ; let her fight only 
 in the cause of truth and honor ; let her achieve deeds 
 fit to be stamped in stone or graved in gold; let her 
 become a " comforter of the earth ;" and eventful cen 
 turies shall pass, and great cycles revolve while she 
 endures. Incalculably distant will be the period, when 
 she must yield to the inevitable order of creation ; and 
 pay her last reluctant tribute to the universal law of 
 change.
 
 ALEXANDRIA AND CAIRO. 
 
 The stranger in Alexandria is confused at first by 
 the shouting mob, masked women, stalls full of trifles, 
 complexions from straw to ebony, languid eyes, long 
 beards, bald heads, red caps, loose blouses, soldiers in 
 white flowing trousers ; carriages, with servants on 
 foot ; Moslem Hadjis, half clad, and half starved. 
 
 Palm trees are in the suburbs and villages, with low, 
 flat roofs. Heifers turn huge water wheels to irrigate 
 the Pasha's garden. Markets are in the open air, sup 
 plied with bread made of dates, sugar cane in stalks, 
 beans and pigeons, wheat at forty cents a bushel, and 
 hideous black slaves. The streets are baked hard as 
 tiles. The sun glows like a furnace. The slender 
 minarets rise here and there. The crescent floats over 
 the city. 
 
 The ancient ruins, are chiefly beneath the sand. 
 The catacombs in the subterranean rocks are difficult of 
 access, and swarm with bats. There is scarcely any 
 conspicuous remains of the great city, which was a 
 second Tyre for commerce ; rivaled Athens in learning, 
 and Rome in wealth. An unfluted column, with a 
 Corinthan capital, known as Pompey's pillar, stands 
 upright near the sea. . A prostrate obelisk, and some 
 parts of baths, are only left of the palaces of Cleopatra ; 
 that voluptuous queen, who charmed the prudent heart 
 
 (148)
 
 ALEXANDRIA AND CAIRO. 149 
 
 of Caesar seduced Anthony from war and power, to 
 love and ruin who fascinated, like a sorceress 
 
 " Whom age could not wither, 
 Nor custom stale her infinite 
 Variety." 
 
 Carlo, the old city of the Caliphs, has a more ori 
 ental character. It contains many mosques, to whose 
 number, each succeeding Pasha adds another. All have 
 fountains for ablution ; and some are of costly marble, 
 and alabaster, but of shabby workmanship. Some are 
 crumbling down, but their decay, sacred as the errors 
 they enshrine, cannot be disturbed. 
 
 The Palace has furniture of silk and porcelain, stone 
 baths, fountains and slaves. The citadel overlooks the 
 town, and is famous for the massacre, and the giddy 
 leap, of the last of the Mamelukes. The well, called 
 Joseph's is sunk a prodigious depth, with an inclined 
 pathway to the bottom. The Bazaars are filled with 
 amber tubes, cherry pipe stems, and red Fez caps. 
 The quarters of the city are divided by gates, and de 
 voted to separate trades. The pleasant gardens are 
 odorous with the fumes of aromatic coffee and tobacco. 
 A few rough carts wabble along the streets, on wheels 
 which have no tires. Infant jugglers, gymnastic mon 
 keys, and snake charmers exhibit at the corners. 
 Ovens are contrived to supersede hens in hatching 
 chickens. An agate forest covers the neighboring 
 sands with petrified trunks and branches, heavy as 
 iron. 
 
 Howling Dervishes, a moslem sect, worship by vibra 
 ting their heads, like pendulums, and grunting in con-
 
 150 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 cert, like an orchestra of brutes. The law compels 
 every person abroad at night to carry a lantern. A 
 towel is hung over the doors of public baths, during the 
 hours they are occupied by women. A Mecca guide, 
 with long hair and beard, in red trowsers, and naked to 
 the waist sometimes passes along, amidst the respect 
 ful salutations of the crowd. Abbas Pasha, with his 
 eyes almost closed by fat, and his other features not 
 indicative of genius, occasionally drives by in a phae 
 ton ; preceded by riders, who clear the street with 
 lashes. The Copts show, for a consideration, their 
 Coptic bible, and poverty stricken church ; built, as 
 they say, over the tomb of Abraham. The Latin 
 monks have a convent in which they treat strangers 
 with genuine hospitality. 
 
 But this is still fanatic Egypt ; where superstition 
 has her seat, and magic and false prophets have long 
 had dominion over human faith. Some little evidence, 
 however, appears of improving times. Trifles, like 
 straws, show the course of currents. Some European 
 clothes ; some Christian women's faces ; some sign 
 boards, in Roman letters ; some foreign hotels, and 
 foreign bankers, and the increase of travel, foreshadow 
 the encroachment of a better policy, and a wiser creed.
 
 THE NILE. 
 
 Behold the Nile ! the joy of the Arab ! the mother 
 of Egypt ! annually overflowing ! a thousand miles 
 without a tributary stream ! Swelling proudly along 
 its fertile sides, as if conscious of its prolific virtue and 
 old renown ! Coming from that much sought, and long 
 undiscovered country the abode, perhaps, of some pa 
 triarchal tribe ; or some savage horde ; some virgin 
 wilderness ; or some fairy land ; which poets have long 
 dreamed of, and travelers toiled, and Caesar sighed for, 
 in the very arms of victory and love ! 
 
 It was once said to flow from heaven. It was deemed 
 divine and worshiped. A beautiful maid was every 
 year its sacrificial feast. On its delightful banks, great 
 Jove himself was wont to spend some summer days. 
 
 From its famous valley, doubtless sprang those once 
 popular mythologies ; those 
 
 Gay religions full of pomp and gold." 
 
 Those schemes of human worship, which warmed the 
 fancy of the classic bards. They had some little truth 
 debased with infinite errors. Deities subordinate, and 
 supreme, imbued with human frailties ; divinities of 
 war, and love, and wine ; the soul immortal, but itine 
 rant amongst brutes and birds ; or borne over Charon's 
 ferry to the realms of Pluto ; ceremonies of prayer 
 
 (151)
 
 152 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 and propitiation, but to idols foul ; altars such as 
 stirred the spirit of Paul in Athens, inscribed in 
 ignorance to the unknown God. 
 
 It was here, also, science must have had its cradle. 
 Here nations learned their alphabets and numerals. 
 Hence armies, colonies and scholars went forth to sub 
 due, and educate, and distribute civilization through 
 the world. Here were schooled the gifted of the 
 Greeks. Here Solon studied the principles of legisla 
 tion ; Plato, the systems of philosophy ; Pythagoras, 
 the true theory of the planetary revolutions ; Thales, 
 how to calculate eclipses ; Eratosthenes, how to mea 
 sure the circumference of the globe ; the Father of his 
 tory, the art of composing annals ; the Prince of poets, 
 the glorious measure of the epic muse. 
 
 A cruel barbarian destroyed the last written vestiges 
 of that learning, in which the Jewish lawgiver was im 
 bued ; and which must have charmed, perhaps, cor 
 rupted the uxorious soul of Solomon. Those countless 
 scrolls of papyrus, which heated for months the Moslem 
 baths, may have been inscribed with learning, with 
 songs, and eloquence, worthy of the mighty monarchy 
 of Rhamses. 
 
 But elements and barbarism have assailed, but not 
 destroyed the pyramids. Grand as nature, their forms 
 eternal as their rocks ; they seem more like mountains 
 than ma sonry. Nor were they built in vain. Though 
 their founders' names are lost, and the carcasses they 
 covered, scattered ; they are yet conspicuous evidence 
 of accumulated wealth ; of regulated labor ; of culti 
 vated genius. They are memorials of established go 
 vernment, and civil law. They are monuments of
 
 THE NILE. 153 
 
 society, and civilization, the oldest in the world. 
 
 They were there, before that wise Judean king took 
 thence that royal bride, in whose honor, they say, he 
 built a city. Before Pharaoh's gentle daughter, bath 
 ing in those waters, found the infant Moses in his 
 cradle ark. The chosen children must have beheld 
 them, when they served in those neighboring fields. 
 Joseph must have passed them, when, arrayed in fine 
 linen vestures and the chain of gold, he rode in the 
 second chariot of the land. Abraham must have looked 
 upon them, when sojourning there with Sarah, whose 
 beauty charmed the nobles and the monarch. Men 
 may have seen them, who walked the earth with Noah. 
 Their builders may have heard the subsiding waters of 
 the deluge ; and raised them, to be beyond the reach of 
 future ruin. 
 
 For forty centuries they have stood. Millions have 
 passed beneath their shadows: strangers and slaves ; 
 kings and crowds ; in infinite procession. Empires 
 have followed one another in these plains, like scenes 
 upon a stage. Fair cities have risen on those banks, 
 and disappeared, and scarcely left a wreck of their 
 foundations. A single prostrate statue, nearly shroud 
 ed in the sand, is all that remains of the once polished 
 Memphis. A lone obelisk stands, like a grave-stone, 
 over the site of ancient On. 
 
 Those mute piles have witnessed all their hopes and 
 fates their splendor and their desolation. They may 
 still long endure ; and survive other scenes and unde 
 veloped changes, until earth's final hour. And as they 
 are the earliest, they may be the last remains of man.
 
 154 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 The largest occupies thirteen acres of ground ; con 
 tains several small chambers ; an empty sarcophagus ; 
 and has an opening of 26 to the horizon, which 
 pointed at the time of its construction, to the polar 
 star. Its sides are crumbling, but it is sustained by 
 granite corner stones, thirty and forty feet long, and 
 two or three feet high. Up these tall steps you are 
 rapidly elevated by importunate guides, four hundred 
 and fifty feet, to the apex. There, on a platform of 
 thirty feet square, you may dine ; carve your name in 
 the soft stone ; gaze over the dreary sand, or down the 
 ragged sides upon the marred and broken spinx, whose 
 colossal paws, fifty feet in length, inclose a buried tem 
 ple; or you may watch the Arabs as they perform, 
 without lifting their feet, a native dance, on the top of 
 this sepulchre of a king or god. 
 
 Musing on these old wonders ; in a barge far different 
 from hers, whose silken sails and gilded masts floated 
 down the Cydnus ; drinking a beverage, Horace wanted, 
 when he journeyed to Brundusium ; feeding on fishes 
 without scales, which Lucullus would have loved ; you 
 wind up the river for many days. The skies are seldom 
 clouded ; delicious mingling of blue and purple skirts 
 the horizon as the sun goes down. The night comes on 
 at once, with scarcely any twilight, and the stars con 
 vert the canopy into a dome of diamonds. 
 
 A double range of sandy mountains run parallel on 
 the opposite shores, inclosing this pleasant region, which 
 for beauty and fertility, seems the very paragon of 
 countries. There are sections of sugar cane, divided by
 
 THE NILE. 155 
 
 gutters ; tracts of cotton, like fields of fleece ; acres of 
 mustard, and winds light and warm blow 
 
 "Sabean odours from the spicy shores 
 Of Araby the blest." 
 
 The sight delighted, wanders over a strangely con 
 trasted landscape meadows in every stage of cultiva 
 tion ; the glebe fresh turned ; the grain fresh sprouted ; 
 the blossom's bloom ; the fruit matured. The plowman 
 and the sower ; the reaper and he that gathereth up the 
 sheaves, go side by side. Seed time and harvest are in 
 one day, and in one plain, 
 
 " Spring and autumn dancing hand in hand." 
 
 There are rocky cliffs in some places near the water, 
 abrupt and high, from whose top the eagle screams ; in 
 whose sides the wild fowls build. There are cranes, 
 ranked like an army on the beach, as numerous as those 
 that warred upon the pigmies. There are crowds of 
 pelicans, white as wool, and grave as juries ; flocks of 
 geese gliding on the river, wheeling through the air, or 
 waddling on the ground, shy as maids. A pair of 
 crocodiles lie sleeping on the shore, with their guardian 
 birds to warn them of danger, and pick their teeth for 
 
 Pay- 
 Droves of buffaloes, with ram-like horns, are tethered 
 in the grass, or playing with all their might, as they 
 gallop to the bank for drink. There are large cows 
 from Nubia, with humps like saddles, on their shoulders ; 
 herds of sheep, with naked children for their shepherds ; 
 strings of camels laden with wares for the interior ; 
 or spices for the cities ; groves of date trees, with leaves 
 like ostrich feathers ; the grateful shade of gum arftbic ;
 
 156 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 the desert, wide and waste over which the sandy whirl 
 winds dance. 
 
 There are villages of sun-dried bricks, from whose 
 minarets, the priests call to prayers ; women in blue 
 slips, washing or carrying water on their heads in 
 earthen jars ; men irrigating the soil, nude as nature, 
 of whom it may be said : " they owe the worm no silk, 
 the beast no hide, the sheep no wool, the cat no per 
 fume." There are numerous boats with sails like swal 
 low's wings, freighted with corn or cotton, or slaves from 
 the line; rafts of pottery joined by green palm ropes, 
 floating down to market. 
 
 There are the pylones and courts of Thebes : 
 
 " The world's great mistress on the Egyptian plains." 
 
 The ruins of palaces and temples, sculptured and 
 painted with history and fable, are vast as cities ; as if 
 their founders had been giants ; or as Champollion says, 
 one hundred feet in height ; or as the Arabs speak, tall 
 as the palm trees ; as if their lives had been measured 
 by centuries ; and like the Titans, they were able to 
 cope with the Gods themselves. 
 
 Though these remains are disfigured, and occupied by 
 entire mud villages ; by the accumulated rubbish of ages ; 
 by myriads of pigeons'; poisonous reptiles; and burrow 
 ing foxes, yet no one can regard their huge dimensions, 
 unsubdued. Walls stand, on whose top carriages could 
 pass. Obelisks of a single stone, slender and pointed, 
 rise eighty feet upright. Lofty columns are counted by 
 hundreds. Statues are seen nearly a thousand tons 
 weight, and twenty feet across the shoulders. Memnon, 
 fabled to have saluted the rising sun with music, and
 
 THE NILE. 157 
 
 which still echoes like metal to a blow ; is fifty feet above 
 the sand, though seated. It is only one of a double 
 colonnade which once formed an avenue two miles in 
 length. 
 
 Compared to such relics, all other antiquites and 
 structures dwindle into toys. What magnificent scenes 
 they once witnessed ! when the inclosures were perfect ; 
 the courts paved ; shining with pleasant furniture ; the 
 pillars all upright ; the decorations fresh ; the avenues 
 crowded ; the altars fuming with sacrifice ! 
 
 But time and enemies have spent their rage upon this 
 famous city, 
 
 "She who stretched her conquest o'er a thousand States;" 
 
 Whose rulers were the chief of warriors ; whose priests 
 were the sages of the world ; whose people were the first 
 of nations ; the city of poetry and prophecy ; of Ho 
 mer's verse and Ezekiel's vision, has been rent asunder ; 
 as it was written ; and her multitudes, cut off, fill the 
 mountains with their mummies and their tombs. 
 
 14
 
 THE DESERT. 
 
 Our caravan was composed of several camels, and 
 each one's nose was tied to the tail of the one it followed. 
 Some were loaded with canvas, water, cooking pans, 
 and poultry. My dragoman, who was a Copt in religion, 
 a mulatto in complexion, and a very promiscuous rascal, 
 had the use of another. I rode on one, in a sort of 
 palanquin, furnished with pipes, lunch, and water in 
 leathern bottles. The drivers, a sheik in green turban, 
 and his man, generally walked, often in their barefeet, 
 and when the ground was too hot, they wore sandals. 
 
 It was in the middle of April when we left the Nile 
 those pleasant shores where the summer never fails, and 
 the rain never falls. We passed the plains of Goshen, 
 once the seat of Joseph's kindred, blooming with fruits 
 and grain. We reached a small village in the evening, 
 and to avoid thieves, encamped in a cow-yard, amongst 
 fleas and other carniverous insects. This reminded us 
 of the proverb of Scylla and Charybdis. 
 
 We were, however, early on the way, moving directly 
 towards the sun, as his beams reddening, and spreading 
 up the horizon, burst forth in floods of fire. Slowly and 
 steadily we traveled onward, without pause, or turning, 
 dining as we rode ; over the hard, over the yielding sur 
 face, until the night. The baggage was unloaded, the 
 charcoal kindled, the tent pitched, and I supped alone 
 
 (158)
 
 THE DESERT. 159 
 
 as usual on coffee, and chickens, partly boiled, by the 
 partly civilized cook. The meal was more symbolical 
 than palatable. 
 
 The camels were fed on beans, the men had their re 
 past, and all lay down "and slept outside of the canvas. 
 I strolled some rods away. The air was calm, but cool. 
 The moon in her silver mask was climbing the azure 
 dome. The eastern stars followed in glittering pro 
 cession. Their mellow light shed a pleasant influence 
 over the vast and solitary wild. 
 
 All sublunary nature seemed at rest. No rustle of 
 reeds, no buz of wings, no fall of footsteps, no purl of 
 stream informed the listening sense. I could perceive 
 neither form of living creature, nor noise of living 
 breath, except my own. But there was, withal, an ex 
 terior sound ; indistinct and unaccountable, subdued, 
 yet unsuppressed. It was continuous ; like the roaring 
 of a shell, or the rushing of a wind, or the distant voice 
 of the sea, or the confused murmurs of a city. But it 
 could have arisen from no such sources. Could it be an 
 imaginary impression ? Could silence thus produce 
 an illusion on the ear, as darkness sometimes does upon 
 the eye ? Or was it the aggregate respiration of unseen 
 life the whirring movement of sleepless spirits the 
 secret pulses of the world the mysterious harmonies of 
 the universe. Philosophers may seek its cause. Arabs 
 are satisfied with calling it, the silence of the desert. 
 
 The next day or two, our course lay over an undula 
 ting tract of hill and vale. We suffered from the uneasy 
 motion of the camel, which does not make one sick but 
 sore, and which none but a Bedouin can long endure. 
 The fierce sun burned relentlessly above us. Neither
 
 160 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 rock, nor tree, nor cloud interposed a grateful shadow. 
 The sky was brass, the earth iron. The Sirocco blew 
 its tropical breath hot as flames. 
 
 By some extravagance, our food was diminished, and 
 the supply of water exhausted. The mirage shone like 
 a lake before us, and fled our approach, as water 
 once the lips of Tantalus. We then remembered well, as 
 whilom did wandering Israel, the flesh pots, the fishes 
 and the sweet river of Egypt. Some days, the fine sand 
 drove against us in furious waves, stifling, blinding and 
 scorching as they passed. Our poor beasts of burthen, 
 wearied or alarmed, turned at last abruptly around, 
 and refused to proceed. 
 
 We dismounted ; the tent raised, was once blown 
 over, and with difficulty secured against the gale. 
 
 Lying down within its oven-like shelter, I was soon 
 enveloped in a drift of dust, which had penetrated 
 through the pores of the canvas. We resumed the 
 journey after nightfall. There soon appeared ap 
 proaching toward us, in the dim moonlight, a long 
 string of camels with riders, and drivers, filing over 
 the irregular ground. Silently and swiftly they came ; 
 nearer and nearer; until we were about to salute them, 
 when they vanished like a phantom ! and we never 
 saw them more. 
 
 The next day, we arrived at one of those cisterns, 
 dug, in certain places, for the benefit of wanderers, and 
 which collect and retain the rains of the spring. A 
 large stone hand was on it ; and near it, were the prints 
 of a horse's hoof, made very wide apart by the Arabs, 
 to commemorate the strength and speed of a famous 
 freebooter. He was one of the heroes of their stories ;
 
 THE DESERT. 161 
 
 and born black, though of white parents, in answer to 
 his mother's prayer. 
 
 The water was thick with slime ; green and foetid. 
 The men descended ; stood in it knee deep, and filled 
 the large goat skins and the bottles. Parched and 
 thirsty, we drank it with avidity. 
 
 With no other beverage than this, we went on, for 
 several days, over the empty basins of lakes, shining 
 with incrusted salt. Cool, moist sea breezes soon re 
 freshed us ; and we saw at hand the blue tents of 
 other travelers. A Russian Prince, with a large reti 
 nue, was bound to the same destination ; he furnished 
 us with fresh water ; and we pursued the rest of our 
 route together. Some hawks, some daisies, the foot 
 prints of jackals, and a hyena, and the bed of a water 
 less river, varied the monotony of the way, as we 
 reached a village ; the second we had seen since leaving 
 Cairo. 
 
 Having paid the usual sum for a watch during the 
 night ; we left at dawn, and were soon followed by the 
 Sheik. He demanded extra pay, because we were in 
 two parties. We refused to recognize this ingenious 
 apportionment. The excited sheik shook his shawl, 
 pulled off his sandals, and left us with threats of ven 
 geance. In an hour, he returned, with all the males of 
 the village, armed with guns, clubs and knives. They 
 shouted "baksheesh" moved towards us we faced 
 them a shock seemed certain. But they halted. 
 For although twice as numerous, they observed that 
 some of the Russians were well armed. They then 
 posted themselves in front of us ; with all manner of
 
 162 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 gestures and menaces; but as we advanced, they one 
 by one, stood aside. They next hung on our rear, and 
 on our flank; and for several miles, followed us with 
 noise, and the clatter of their weapons. But baffled 
 and defied, they at last retired. They doubtless as 
 sailed us with much vernacular impudence, which as 
 we did not understand, we did not resent. 
 
 We passed directly on, here and there, by some 
 prickly grass, which the camels cropped in march 
 ing some modest flowers wasting their virtues 
 some dreary vales with drifts like snow. After nearly 
 a fortnight's dismal travel, we came, at once, on a 
 plain of boundless green; dotted with numerous tents, 
 black and comely as the tents of Kedar. Droves of 
 camel calves cried after us like children. Busy 
 reapers were bending to the grain. Cool breezes fan 
 ned us from the ocean. Deep wells bubbled with fresh 
 water. It was the season of flowers ; it was the valley 
 of Sharon ; the voice of the turtle ; the carol of the 
 lark ; and myriads of singing birds made the welkin 
 echo with the sweetest sounds in nature. The day 
 seemed like an hour ; the road like a garden path. 
 Old olives were white with vernal bloom. Crimson 
 blossoms shone like leaves of fire amongst the branches 
 of pomegranate trees. There were pinks like stars 
 upon the ground; roses worthy of the Psalmist's songs; 
 lilies such as the delighted eye of Christ remembered, 
 when he uttered the parable of providence. 
 
 A transition so unforseen gave us a delicious impres 
 sion of this, the Holy Land. Other countries have 
 their attractions. You may trace the course of science
 
 THE DESERT. 163 
 
 along the descending Nile the flight of victory as it 
 followed the Roman eagles climb the heights of 
 Greece where they invoked the muses. But the soul 
 turns with an immortal interest to Palestine, where the 
 incarnate Deity walked with the children of men.
 
 THE BEDOUIN AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 The Bedouin is proud of his Chaldean father and 
 Egyptian mother; and though half Gentile and half 
 Jew, he has no sympathy with either. He seems to 
 rejoice in verifying the predicted misanthropy of the 
 seed of Ishmael. His hand is against every man. 
 
 He is regarded as an infidel. Indifferent both to 
 Jerusalem and to Meccca he makes no pilgrimages. 
 Without altars, or temples, or fountains he makes 
 neither ablutions nor prostrations. He loves the mov 
 ing stars above him, and the moving sands beneath him. 
 He builds no cities ; and holds in contempt the luxury 
 of palaces, the works of art, and the drudgery of 
 labor. He has no schools, is unable to read ; yet fond 
 of poetic recitations. 
 
 He is governed by hereditary sheiks. He dwells un 
 der tents of camel's hair, spread like an awning. He 
 is satisfied with dates, cheese and honey. He moves 
 his abode when the pastures fail. He always goes 
 armed, and mostly with a lance. He wears only a 
 loose blouse around his body, and a small shawl over 
 his head, with which he often conceals his face. His 
 figure is slight, but sinewy ; his complexion nearly 
 black ; his features regular, but felonious. 
 
 He has credit for virtues which he rarely exhibits. 
 He is not too proud to beg, but mean enough to steal. 
 
 (164)
 
 THE BEDOUIN AND HIS FRIENDS. 165 
 
 His hospitality refuses the traveler water without pay. 
 His courage prefers rather to waylay than to fight. He 
 revels in the vast expanse of the desert. It suits the 
 wildness of his spirit, and the sterility of his mind. 
 It affords him an opportunity for plunder, and a refuge 
 from justice. But he is generally true to his contract, 
 and Seldom hetrays a trust. He avenges with blood 
 shed, the death of his kindred. The friend whom he 
 admits to his board, may rely on his shelter and his 
 spear. His wealth is not rated in acres, but in stock. 
 
 The camel is essential to him. It suits his life, by 
 its unique conformation and habits. It is ugly, and ill 
 shaped, with a long neck and a short tail ; but its face 
 is expressive of humility and patience. Its great height 
 affords free play to its limbs, and a commanding view 
 to the rider. Its arched back increases its strength, 
 and capacity to carry. It kneels to be loaded, and 
 refuses to rise when oppressed. Lifting two legs on 
 one side at the same time, it careens, like a ship, in its 
 motions. Its soft, round feet, scarcely sink in the 
 sand. Its gate is regular and steady, at the rate of 
 two miles an hour. It is often as swift as an ostrich. 
 It is scarcely affected by heat, and goes two weeks 
 without water. 
 
 It is dangerous when provoked ; revengeful as its mas 
 ter, but true to him. It carries him on his journeys ; 
 his plunder, when he robs ; his merchandize, when he 
 trades ; his tent, when he changes his abode ; his arms, 
 when he fights ; his presents, when he goes a wooing ; 
 his bride, when he has wedded. Its body makes him a 
 shelter from the storm, and a shade from the sun. Its 
 flesh yields him food ; its hair furnishes his garments.
 
 166 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 The Bedouin prizes his camel, but he loves his horse. 
 That noble beast shares his heart with his women and 
 children. He is educated with care. He is inured to 
 fatigue, hunger, and thirst. He is taught to wheel, 
 to halt at full speed to evade the lance to stand fire. 
 
 His pedigree can be traced back for generations. 
 He is decked with tassels and amulets. He moves with 
 the pride of heroic blood. He disdains all burthens 
 but his rider. His flowing tail, his silken mane, his 
 neck superbly arched, his lifted feet, seem to combine 
 all the grace and glory of animal life. Such a creature 
 must have inspired the graphic pen of Job, the grati 
 tude of Alexander, the fond folly of Caligula. 
 
 The Bedouin esteeming his horse and camel as faith 
 ful friends, bears the indifference of a savage to all 
 others.
 
 JERUSALEM. 
 
 The interest of Palestine culminates at Jerusalem. 
 There, stood the ancient Salem, from which Melchisideck 
 went forth to bless the Patriarch, returning victorious 
 from the battle, with Lot, his goods and women. There, 
 God spared the son of Abraham, and there, He sacri 
 ficed his own. There, the abominations of Canaan, the 
 brutish worship, the fire of Moloch provoked the aveng 
 ing sword of Israel. There, celestial fire consumed the 
 offering of David on the threshing floor of Oman. The 
 destroying angel stayed there his arm. Thither, they 
 brought the holy ark with music. There, the glorious 
 temple rose. 
 
 The present city, of about fifteen thousand inhabi 
 tants, is situated on a precipitous declivity, surrounded 
 on three sides by deep ravines. Its battlemented walls, 
 tall square towers, domes, and infinite white tombs re 
 lieve the monotony of a vast, desolate region. All 
 around seems a wilderness of rocks ; as if rain had swept 
 away the soil, or fire had burned up the roots of vege 
 tation. Except a few olives, and patches of grass and 
 grain, all else is drear and sterile. No cedars crown 
 the heights with forests. No arable plains appear, nor 
 blooming gardens, nor fragrant orchards. 
 
 The lovely scenes, the delightful fields, the sweet 
 flowers which we read of in Eastern tales the flowing 
 
 (167)
 
 168 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 pastures, the sparkling fountains the land of corn and 
 grapes, and oil, and honey, such as the spies reported, 
 and Moses saw from Pisgah ; such as Tacitus, Hecataeus 
 and the Imperial Apostate praised, are there no more. 
 The clusters of Eschol are as scarce as the giants of 
 Anak. Nothing recalls the beauty and abundance of 
 the heathen authors, and the sacred bards. There is 
 no view which charms the sense, no cheerful spot on 
 which the sight delights to linger. Nature seems to 
 have failed, the ground looks wan, the air breathes 
 decay. 
 
 There is scarcely left any evidence of former wealth, 
 prosperity, or power. The roads which Solomon's 
 chariots traversed, have disappeared. The aqueducts 
 which supplied the fountains, are here and there dis 
 covered by their broken arches. But you may see the 
 pool of Gihon, now dry, built of huge stones, where the 
 beauty of Bathsheba bathing, provoked the guilt of the 
 enamored King. The ancient well of Job, (so named,) 
 one hundred and twenty-five feet deep, still bubbles 
 with pure water. There are the venerable walls of 
 Siloa's brook, "which flowed fast by the Oracle," and 
 now lines the banks with verdure. The tower of Hip- 
 picus still stands, huge and square, as it was built by 
 Herod. 
 
 There are chambers, with Doric columns, large as 
 bed-rooms, cut in the limestone hills, with sepulchres, 
 such as held the bodies of kings and judges, the Virgin 
 and the Saviour. A crumbling arch remains of the 
 bridge which once united Mounts Zion and Moriah. 
 Great beveled stones, the only reputed relics of the 
 temple, attract the Jews each Friday to bewail the
 
 JERUSALEM. 169 
 
 possession of the aliens. Besides these, and Bethesda's 
 pool, now empty, where He bade the cripple walk ; 
 there are, perhaps, no other undisputed remains of the 
 ancient city. 
 
 But there are natural localities which cannot be mis 
 taken. There is the barren field of blood, bought with 
 the silver which Judas could not keep. And the Mount 
 of Moriah, the site of the temple, covered now by the 
 Mosque of Omar, with its wells, its domes, and tombs, 
 and lamps of ostrich eggs. There is the valley of Ked- 
 ron, dry until swollen by the winter rains. Above its 
 banks is Gethsemane, inclosing eight old olives, which 
 may have witnessed that bloody agony and prayer, when 
 He asked that the hour and the cup might pass. 
 
 Mount Zion, partly ploughed as a field, is the 
 resort of lepers, and full of graves. There are the 
 sloping sides of Olivet ; hallowed, by the grief of 
 David, when with covered head and naked feet, he and 
 his people went up, weeping from the parricidal arm of 
 Absalom ; and of Jesus, when amidst palms and ho- 
 sannahs, he sadly gazed upon the city, which stoned the 
 prophets, and wept over its inevitable fate. 
 
 There he beheld, in vision, the fell calamity, and 
 heavy woes which followed the rage of battle ; the 
 crash of walls ; the terrific flames ; the frightful 
 famine ; the agony of hunger, turning men and 
 mothers into monsters ; the city's fall the bloodiest 
 in human annals not a stone left of the sanctuary, 
 itself a wonder its foundations leveled by the re 
 morseless ploughshare its site sown with salt. It 
 was from Olivet the Saviour was borne to heaven from 
 
 15
 
 170 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 his blest disciples ; and there he shall first place his feet, 
 when, with his angels and in glory, he returns again. 
 
 That easy credulity which delights to locate every 
 incident of interest, points out the mulberry in the 
 valley of Cheesemongers, as the one under which 
 Isaiah was sawn assunder ; the grotto in which Jere 
 miah dwelt ; the rock which concealed the disciples ; 
 where Stephen was stoned, and James beheaded ; where 
 Christ ate the passover on Zion, and brake the bread, 
 and poured the wine, as memorials of his blood and 
 body. They show a rock imprinted by his foot, when 
 he was kissed and bound; the site of his prison, where 
 Peter followed and denied him ; where he was clad in 
 scarlet, crowned with thorns, spit upon and smitten. 
 They show where he fainted, as he bore his cross, fol 
 lowed by those gentle women, whom he bade weep for 
 themselves and children. 
 
 There, covering the supposed site of Calvary, is a 
 large church, whose origin is attributed to the dream 
 and piety of Helena. It is garnished by the gorgeous 
 gifts of generations, and occupied by the various sects 
 of Christianity. Within it, the foresight of the Monks 
 claims to have discovered every eventful spot. A plate 
 in one place, marks the centre of the world, from which 
 the dust of Adam's body was obtained. Near to this, 
 three bright rings are sunk in the floor, where Christ 
 was crucified between the thieves. In another part, the 
 soldiers cast lots for the unseamed garment. A fissure 
 in the rock was rent, they say, when darkness and 
 earthquake convinced the Roman that the Son of God 
 had died. And there is the stone of unction, on which
 
 JERUSALEM. 171 
 
 the body was annointed ; another, on which the angel 
 sat who anounced Him risen. 
 
 In a small chapel, of white marble, perpetually 
 lighted by gold and silver lamps, is an empty sarcopha 
 gus ; revered for ages, and by half the world, as the 
 sepulchre of Jesus. For fourteen hundred years, the 
 palmers have dared all danger to print their lips upon 
 its cold surface ; and kneel beneath its artificial halo. 
 For its possession the armies of two continents, the 
 the chivalry of two religions, waged ferocious war for 
 centuries. Around it yet, hereafter, perhaps at no 
 far distant period, will surge and struggle the last great 
 battle of the universe. 
 
 It is still the prime object of promiscuous curiosity 
 and devotion. It is besides, the central point of those 
 Christian celebrations, which alone disturb the mono 
 tony of the city. No other town, in ordinary times, 
 has so dull and dreary an aspect. There seems to be 
 no absorbing business. There are none of the attrac 
 tions and improvements of the day. It has no magnifi 
 cent monuments or palaces ; no architectural piles like 
 Paris ; no museums of art like Rome ; no colossal re 
 mains like Thebes ; no signs of enterprise like London. 
 You do not hear the hum of spindles, the clank of ham 
 mers, nor the roar of furnace fires. No vast establish 
 ments are burthened with crates. No drays distribute 
 merchandise; no railways rattle with trains; no electric 
 wires flash intelligence. 
 
 The gloom of night is uncheered by the light of gas ; 
 and the tedium of the day is unbroken by the arrival 
 of a regular mail, by the issue of a newspaper, or the 
 sight of coach or wagon. There are no juries, no
 
 172 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 learning, no eloquence in the courts ; and neither skill 
 nor science amongst the sick. There are no places of 
 amusement, no theatres, nor promenades nothing of 
 modern style or spirit. The mass are practically igno 
 rant of all the progress of the last century. And 
 though imaginative, they are without philosophers, 
 scholars, artists and politicians. 
 
 Traffic is limited to the sale of relics, beads, and holy 
 water. The inhabitants live on the credulity of pil 
 grims. The streets are narrow, dusty, crooked, filthy, 
 steep ; some with steps like stairs ; some closed up like 
 courts ; nearly all darkened by overhanging Btories, 
 and mats stretched across for shade ; and many filled 
 with heaps of carrion and rubbish. 
 
 Yet these thoroughfares are the places of chief re 
 sort. There trade bargains; faith prays; justice flogs; 
 medicine prescribes ; poverty begs ; aristocracy sips cof 
 fee and smokes; the barber cleans pipes and shaves 
 heads. There sits the merchant, cross-legged, on his 
 calico, waiting for a bid, but contented without one. 
 There the baker, her brow adorned with coins, holds 
 up, between her tatooed fingers, bread baked on heated 
 jars. There passes the Bedouin, bristling with wea 
 pons, and breathing disdain of towns. 
 
 You see there the huge camel, with his freight of 
 bales, and stomach like a bath-tub ; and the lunatic, 
 raving, as his neighbors think, with inspiration, mut 
 tering nonsense, which passes for prophecy ; and the 
 physician, commanding almost as much reverence as 
 the madman, while he does not know the difference 
 between the lungs and the liver, and though in a livery 
 red as blood, is ignorant of the circulation of that fluid
 
 JERUSALEM. 173 
 
 in the body. And the Pasha, with his ferocious sickle 
 sword, his horse covered with rich housings, and two 
 servants at the stirrups, with his pipe and snuff box. 
 
 There stops one to pick up a scrap of paper, lest, 
 perhaps, the name of Allah written on it, should be 
 trampled down, and desecrated. You see the beggar 
 asking' alms, and receiving it, or is gently promised it 
 to-morrow for the Moslem deals kindly with the poor. 
 You see a crowd of wolfish dogs, whom no one owns, 
 and every one feeds. And the police officer restoring 
 peace with his thong of rhinoceros skin. 
 
 You see the judge, who smokes while he condemns 
 the murderer to a fine of One hundred camels. And 
 the schoolboys, who complete their education by learn 
 ing, in a singing concert, to read the Koran, and to 
 count a hundred on their fingers. And the scribe, with 
 his inkhorn in his sash, such as Ezekiel saw, writing 
 from right to left, on his hand, as on a table. 
 
 You see the Moslem funeral train, moving to the grave 
 already full, with rapid step, for the soul they say, is rest 
 less till the uncoffined corpse is buried ; while hired female 
 mourners beat their bosoms, tear their hair, and cry in 
 their artificial anguish : " He was here yesterday, he 
 is gone to day, he will not return to-morrow." You see 
 the bride going to her husband's home, escorted by a 
 bevy of companions with splendid dresses and wretched 
 music. 
 
 Every Moslem has a right to four wives, though he 
 often waives it on the score of economy and quiet. 
 Divorces may be had for asking, but the offspring, and 
 her portion follow the mother. Parties are betrothed, 
 without a personal acquaintance, by their parents. Thus
 
 174 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 the burthen of courtship, and the torture of suspense 
 are avoided ; love is postponed till the marriage ; and 
 the torch of Hymen lights the arrows of Cupid. Young 
 brides often tease their husbands by visits to their kins 
 folks, in order to heighten their ardor by absence, and 
 prolong the novelty of the honey moon. 
 
 They live apart in the harem ; where they gossip, 
 quarrel and embroider. But they can neither read nor 
 write, nor sing a line of music. They do not mingle 
 with the other sex at parties, prayers, or meals. They 
 are never the subject of conversation amongst men it 
 would be as indecent to remark on one's faults, as to in 
 quire about the health of his wives. Generally their 
 close or partial mask of muslin, like the silver veil of 
 Mokanna, conceals an ugly face. Their brilliant eyes 
 are exposed, and flash with magnetic sparks the true 
 telegraph of passion. 
 
 They ride out on gay donkeys, seated astride, with a 
 boy behind to goad the beast, and direct its course. 
 They walk about in yellow slippers, muffled up in sheets 
 like corpses, and seen amongst the graves which they 
 visit on Fridays, look like the risen ghosts of the cemetery. 
 They are regarded as toys, at times as slaves ; their sal 
 vation is a trifle, as they are superseded in Paradise by 
 women made of musk. 
 
 The dwellings are chiefly stone ; with flat roofs for 
 sleep or rest ; dark in the basement ; the door lock is a 
 bolt, and the door key a nail driven in a stick. The 
 second floor is terraced, furnished with mats, divans and 
 ottomans ; and windows are long and latticed, to keep 
 out both sun and sin. Proverbs are pasted on the 
 walls, as talismans against vermin, but with apparent
 
 JERUSALEM. 175 
 
 ill success. Amulets are worn as bracelets to guard 
 against unlucky days, and the evil eye. 
 
 They eat on the floor ; use napkins for plates ; their 
 fingers instead of knives and forks, and thus enjoy at 
 once both touch and taste. They are forbidden the use 
 of wine, but stolen waters are sweet, and stolen liquor 
 is sweeter ; and men get very drunk on arrack, distilled 
 from dates. 
 
 You see them in the bath, where, after passing the 
 ordeal of heat, steam and soapsuds, a servant rubs off 
 the skin like shavings ; cuts the nails to the quick ; 
 places them on a couch ; and there, inhaling smoke 
 through rosewater, and sipping coffee thick as honey, 
 from cups like egg shells, they anticipate the ease, the 
 aroma, and the beverage of heaven. 
 
 You see the story teller, enchanting crowds with a 
 beautiful mythology of Peris and Fairies ; with the gal 
 lantries of angels ; the exploits of dreadful robbers ; 
 the merits of sainted Sheiks ; reciting fables about 
 jeweled halls ; groves with silver leaves ; women fair 
 as the blossoms of jasmine ; warriors firm as rocks ; 
 horses swift as the storm ; hospitality generous as 
 the dew ; fidelity true as the stars. You see also 
 the exhibition of the various rites of the true faith and 
 the false. 
 
 Such is the present condition such the stupor, the 
 superstition, the ignorance of this city, once so populous 
 and polished. 
 
 She was once favored. The Deity loved her better 
 than all the dwellings of Jacob. She was esteemed as 
 the type of the first paradise on earth, or of the last 
 in heaven ; carrying the mind back to the Eden of
 
 176 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 Adam, and forward to the new Jerusalem of the Apoca 
 lypse. 
 
 She was once the fairest city beneath the sun. On 
 her ivory throne sat the wisest of terrestrial kings. In 
 her gorgeous temple, dwelt the Lord of Hosts. All 
 around and within, were sights of unequaled beauty. 
 The golden walls harmonized with the wealth of nature. 
 The lofty spires, brilliant as alabaster, matched the 
 voluptuous fertility of the soil. The rippling brooks 
 answered to the singing birds. The flowers of the val 
 leys vied with the precious ores of the mountains. Fair 
 fruit hung upon the trees ; and the vines bowed with 
 their delicious burthens. The cattle pastured on a 
 thousand hills. The fields waved with continual har 
 vests. Groves breathed odoriferous smells. The presses 
 flowed with oil and wine. The music of cymbals was 
 heard in the dwellings. Silver was like stones in the 
 streets. The heights of Lebanon furnished her with 
 cedars. The Sidonian artists were her cunning work 
 men. Syrian merchants supplied her with purple. 
 Egypt sent her horses and linen. The mines of Ophir 
 poured gold into her coffers. The ships of Tarshish 
 wafted her cargoes of silk and ivory. Monarchs went 
 thither, like pilgrims and subjects, with presents and 
 tribute. And from the river to the land of the Philis 
 tines, and the borders of Africa, there was none who 
 did not do her homage. Secure and happy, she had no 
 rival, and she feared no foe. Peace was within her 
 walls, prosperity within her palaces, and she was the 
 marvel and joy of the world. History, with all her 
 volumes, has no other page like hers. Nor has imagi 
 nation, with all her poetic colors, painted a fairer pic-
 
 JERUSALEM. 177 
 
 ture. The fables of the golden age, the tales of 
 romance, scarcely surpass the authentic glories of the 
 Jewish city. 
 
 But behold her now! How changed, how sad she 
 seems upon her desolate mountain, shorn of her charms! 
 Widowed, wailing, and in sack cloth ! Despoiled, and 
 trodden down ; without a chief, and without an altar! 
 Her childen scattered like the wind strown leaves ! The 
 signs and the prophets have failed her, and her God is 
 deaf to her prayer ! 
 
 But still she hopes, still looks for the promise, when 
 her wanderers, from all the lands, whither they have been 
 driven, shall return with arts, knowledge and treasure. 
 When her waste places shall sing, and her walls be laid 
 with precious stones. When she shall be called to rise 
 from the dust in her beautiful garments, and be throned 
 again in her pride.
 
 THE EASTER FESTIVAL. 
 
 Pilgrims annually resort to the Holy City, in order 
 to celebrate the Easter festival, in the church which 
 covers Calvary. On the first day of the feast, the 
 Greeks, with many tedious ceremonies, buried the 
 Saviour. The next morning, the Latins performed the 
 Invention of the cross. On the third day, when the 
 fire is believed, by the people, to fall from heaven, there 
 ensued a sight which beggars all description. 
 
 A vast multitude, various in costume, complexion, 
 and dialect had come together from the hills of 
 Attica from the villages of Abyssynia from beyond 
 Jordan from the coast of Barbary from the shores 
 of the Baltic from the banks of the Bosphorus from 
 the islands of the Mediterranean. They poured into the 
 church like a tide at the flood. They crowded every 
 avenue, gallery, and niche, 
 
 " All access was thronged ; 
 
 The gates and porches, but chief the spacious hall 
 Thick swarmed." 
 
 Murmurs rose from them like the moaning winds of the 
 mountain pines. They swayed to and fro, with anx 
 iety and impatience. A procession of Greek priests, 
 with symbolical banners, and the Patriarch at their 
 head gorgeously robed, struggled around, and then 
 
 (178)
 
 THE EASTER FESTIVAL. 179 
 
 stopped, before the tomb. The latter entered, and at 
 length a torch, feigned to be miraculously fired, was 
 handed from the holy shrine. Thousands of candles 
 were instantly lighted. Faces, hands, and bosoms were 
 bathed in the flames, deemed sacred. The excitement 
 grew intense, and became phrensy. The tumult waxed 
 louder and louder. They yelled they howled they 
 prayed they cursed they screamed. They flung up 
 their arms they leaped on one another's shoulders 
 they rushed against one another in opposite currents 
 they fought like furious beasts. The police rushed 
 amongst them with thongs and scourges, striking in all 
 directions. It seemed if all were engaged in one pro 
 miscuous battle. Every violent, every wicked passion 
 was let loose. Clothes were torn into rags limbs were 
 broken dangerous wounds inflicted faces disfigured 
 and life was lost. 
 
 This fearful scene continued amidst noise, and smoke, 
 and heat, till dusk. It seemed more infernal than hu 
 man ; more like a revel of fiends, than a feast of Chris 
 tians ; more fit for any other spot than around the sup 
 posed sepulchre of the Saviour. The Catholics and 
 Armenians, however, long ago, denounced a ceremony 
 so disgracuful, and even the Greeks are said to be grow 
 ing ashamed of its scandal and impiety. 
 
 The next morning afterwards, the numerous devotees 
 were seen, thronging through the different gates of the 
 city; on foot, on mules, in great companies, and in pairs, 
 departing for their far off homes, amidst the contempt of 
 dogs and Turks. So terminated that feast, which was 
 once so popular and important in all the Christian 
 Church ; which cost so much labor and discussion to fix
 
 180 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 the period of its return ; which occasioned rules in coun 
 cils, decretals, and the new Calendar ; which was inten 
 ded to commemorate the Resurrection ; which corres 
 ponds with the passover of the Jews ; which is called 
 after that Pagan mistress of the passions, 
 
 " To whose brightMmage, uightly by the moon, 
 Sidonian virgins paid their vows and songs." 
 
 m>
 
 JORDAN ROBBERS. 
 
 I employed a sheik and four men, the usual guard 
 for this journey. But the dragoman considering him 
 self and the sheik sufficient for protection, sent his men 
 and the baggage to meet us at Jericho. Well mounted, 
 we passed eastwardly over desolate hills of stone and 
 sand, down ravines, along the edge of rocks, and in 
 six or eight hpurs we reached the spacious plain of the 
 Dead Sea. 
 
 A strange loneliness and gloom prevailed. A few 
 bushes were seen, but no birds were there, and a single 
 gazelle was the only creature that crossed our path. 
 The mountains of Moab cast doleful shadows upon the 
 mysterious lake. Its heavy waves rolling slowly upon 
 the beach, rattled like sheets of metal, or like muffled 
 bells, the requiem of the buried cities. I bathed in its 
 waters, transparent as glass, and which buoyed the 
 body up, and burned the lips like vitriol. The blasted 
 shores seemed strewed with salt and brimstone. The 
 atmosphere was impregnated with a bituminous odor. 
 
 We proceeded up by the shores of the Jordan. The 
 sheik and dragoman were in high spirits. They dis 
 played their skill in the saddle, and the mettle of their 
 horses. They galloped forward, returned, and grasped 
 objects on the ground without stopping. The sheik 
 had a long lance, the only weapon in the party, and 
 
 (181) 16
 
 182 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 charged with it on imaginary foes. Both careened 
 wildly around, shouting and laughing defiance at all 
 the Bedouins in the land. 
 
 We halted at the spot on the Jordan where they say 
 the Saviour was baptized by John. I was smarting 
 from my asphaltic bath, which seemed to have robed 
 me with a shirt of fire. I sought along the borders of 
 that narrow and tumultuous stream, for a place to wash 
 in its lucid waves. Disappointed by the abrupt and 
 crumbling banks, I was returning, when some twenty 
 armed Arabs came stealing towards us from the bushes. 
 For an instant it seemed they might be friends. But 
 their numbers, and movements, showed their hostile 
 purpose. They were as wild and picturesque banditti 
 as ever robbed or killed. They crouched like beasts of 
 prey, or like hunters, or like Indians, with their pieces 
 leveled. They advanced behind the sheik and drago 
 man, as they were watering the horses. I shouted the 
 alarm. My men rushed into the stream. Unseen be 
 fore, I became the target of a score of guns. A bullet 
 whistled near. 
 
 I took shelter behind a wild fig tree, whose branches 
 reached to the ground. There quite helpless, without 
 even a penknife, stick, or stone for defence ; suspicious of 
 my guides ; ignorant of the language, and of the country, 
 I had to await the issue. The imagination was not in 
 active. Stories of highwaymen and savages, of bar 
 barian slaves and tortured captives, passed swiftly 
 through the mind. For a time, the chance of escape 
 ' appeared hopeless. 
 
 Four Arabs, with guns and knives, prowled around 
 the place I left, and within the shadow of the tree which
 
 JORDAN ROBBERS. 183 
 
 sheltered me. Some of them stood off on guard to pre-. 
 vent surprise. Some searched the saddle bags. The 
 others secured the horses; dragged the guides out of 
 the water, and stript them to their shirts. Part of them 
 mounting our beasts, they all went off in triumph and 
 swiftly disappeared. 
 
 From necessity we walked over rocks and sand for 
 several miles, and entered Jericho very tired and very 
 humble. There my men, like David's messengers, were 
 compelled to tarry for breeches, though not for beards. 
 Having rested and refreshed, I proposed the next morn 
 ing to the Turkish officer, in command there of ten 
 soldiers, a joint expedition, at my expense, against the 
 robbers. He laughed at the scheme, and said it was 
 impossible to find them in the mountains. Then ob 
 serving that I had escaped without the loss of clothes 
 or money, he added, very gravely, that " Allah had al 
 ready blessed me." 
 
 A trifling number of Arab huts compose the modern 
 village of Jericho. Some foundation walls, and crush 
 ed aqueducts, are all that remain of the ancient city of 
 palms. From its elevated site, a wide and sorrowful 
 prospect stretches over the once populous and prosperous 
 plain. You may see whence went up, as from a fur 
 nace, the smoke of the guilty cities, for which Abram 
 pleaded with the angels, and which ten righteous would 
 have saved. You may see where Zoar stood, which 
 Lot entered as the sun rose, when forewarned, he es 
 caped for his life. You see Pisgah, where Moses be 
 held the land he should not reach where Israel cross 
 ed dry shod the Jordan, and kept the first passover in 
 Canaan ; and threw the ancient walls down by the
 
 184 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 trumpets and the shouting. You may taste of the 
 spring Elisha sweetened, and pass by the house of 
 Zaccheus. 
 
 Hence to Jerusalem the way leads over high hills by 
 public wells and fallen Khans along rough paths 
 through suspicious places. Some one of which, was 
 the scene of that parable, which showed who was neigh 
 bor to him that fell among the thieves. Thence on by 
 Bethany, by the house and tomb of Lazarus, where 
 Mary met the Saviour, when his tears told how he loved 
 her brother.
 
 
 THE JEWS. 
 
 The Jews are a marvelous people. They have re 
 tained their individuality, their sabbaths, their cere 
 monies, through all the vicissitudes of thirty-five hun 
 dred years, and in all the regions of the globe. Other 
 races have flourished and left splendid monuments of 
 civilization, and been lost amongst the crowds of new 
 generations. 
 
 We cannot to-day recognize the descendants of those 
 who built the mysterious temples of Thebes ; nor of 
 those who enjoyed the palaces of Nineveh, and the 
 hanging gardens of Babylon ; nor of those who raised 
 the columns of the Parthenon ; nor of those who shared 
 in the glory of the Forum, and the triumph of the 
 legions. But the Jews are among us now, claiming a 
 national character, which throws in the shade the oldest 
 dynasties of Europe. 
 
 It existed when the Druids sacrificed at Stonehenge ; 
 when barbarians, in wolf skins, hunted on the banks of 
 the Seine ; when the Assyrians worshiped in the temple 
 of Belus ; and the Pharaohs reigned in the valley of 
 Egypt ; before the Caesars ruled Rome, or the Orators 
 ruled Athens. They have suffered for ages. They 
 have been persecuted, branded, banished, enslaved, 
 sold like cattle, tortured, imprisoned, cursed, cropped, 
 stoned, crucified, torn by wild beasts, put to the sword, 
 
 (185)
 
 186 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 committed to the flames. They have been vagrants on 
 the earth, the byeword of the nations, seeking peace, 
 but obtaining none 
 
 " Like that bird of Thrace, 
 
 Whose pinions find no resting place." 
 
 Yet as serfs, nobles, felons, outcasts, bankers, beg 
 gars, and martyrs, they have always been a peculiar 
 people, clinging to their traditions, standing ever on 
 their ancient ways. 
 
 As a nation, they were not distinguished in the arts 
 and sciences. Their prophets were poets, and soared 
 to the "highest heaven of invention." Their historians 
 were graphic and concise. But they made little pro 
 gress in mathematics, in astronomy, in chemistry, in 
 painting, in statuary, or in architecture. They no 
 more contrived their house of worship, than they form 
 ed their laws. The Temple, like the Pentateuch, was a 
 revelation. It was a type they could not improve, and 
 durst not copy. Nor was divine knowledge exclusively 
 confined to them. It had been experienced by the 
 Gentiles before the Exodus, and between that period 
 and the Christian era. 
 
 There were some wholesome doctrines in the creed of 
 the old Orientals. There was the perfect and upright 
 man of Uz the believing priest of Midian the 
 righteous king of Salem the devout Centurion of 
 Caesarea the resolute faith of Socrates the sublime 
 sentiments of Plato the beautiful pastoral of Virgil. 
 But these were single instances, or obscured by 
 grossest errors, and only glimpses of the truth. While 
 the word was given to Israel with the die of heaven 
 on it.
 
 J THE JEWS. 187 
 
 Their leaders spoke face to face, with the Deity, as 
 with a friend. It was their dwellings which the angel 
 of death passed over. It was their camp before which 
 went the pillars of cloud and fire. For them the floods 
 stood upright, and the sea became dry ground. For 
 them the sky rained manna the rocks gushed with 
 water the fruitful land was conquered. Yet they for 
 got this miraculous care. Thay followed after strange 
 idolatries, heathen abominations, 
 
 " And oft forsook 
 
 Their living strength, and unfrequented left 
 His righteous altars ; bowing lowly down 
 To bestial gods." 
 
 They sacrificed on the eminent places, in the valleys, 
 under the green oaks, to license, homicide and hate. 
 They stoned the prophets, sent to warn them of sin 
 and judgment. They crucified Him who brought them 
 a new covenant who taught them a new commandment 
 who would have gathered them under his wing. 
 
 The day of visitation came upon the Jew. How low 
 he stands amongst the tombs of his fathers, and in the 
 very city of his soul. Jerusalem, in Hebrew, the in 
 heritance of repose, yields none to him. Even there 
 he finds none more humble than himself. He beholds 
 the symbols of fanaticism over the place whence the 
 daily sacrifice ascended with the sun. He hears the 
 imposter's cry " There is no God but God, and Ma 
 homet is his prophet," from the spot where the priest 
 was wont to say u The Lord bless thee and keep thee." 
 
 All around him rise associations dear to his heart 
 the lessons of childhood the words of the law the 
 anthem of the singers the visions of promise. The
 
 188 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 voices of ages ring in his ears. The spirits of the past 
 crowd before him the faithful the prudent the 
 mighty men of old heroic leaders lofty prophets 
 illustrious kings. He recalls the faith of Abraham, 
 the sagacity of Moses, the inspirations of Esaias, the 
 mourning of Jeremy, the victories of David, the glory 
 of Solomon. He sighs for the departed sceptre. He 
 weeps more bitterly than the captive Daughters, when he 
 remembers Zion. Burning, but not perishing ; blinded 
 by obduracy ; infatuated with his exhausted Ritual he 
 denies the miracle he proves he still fails to compre 
 hend the truth and clemency of heaven he still fails 
 to perceive the light which shone through the parted 
 Vail, and whose risen brightness is illuminating all the 
 nations but his own.
 
 BETHLEHEM. 
 
 This renowned place is a village of about two thou 
 sand people, and is situated on a ridge of rocks. The 
 streets are like bridle paths, but they are sufficiently 
 convenient, as there are no wheeled vehicles in all the 
 land. Beads, made of wood and berries, shells rudely 
 carved with scriptural scenes, and asphaltum cut in the 
 shape of bibles, are the staple articles of traffic. Wo 
 men are seen in gaily colored shawls, such perhaps as 
 the Virgin wore ; and such as Raphael has painted in 
 the Madonna della Seggiola. 
 
 A large church and convent, of different periods of 
 construction, cover the supposed place of the Nativity. 
 A kind of cavern, such as in the East may be some 
 times seen, occupied as stables, is in one end of the 
 building. The natural roof is concealed by drapery. 
 A star on the marble floor marks the birth place of the 
 Saviour, and a silver plate on a polished altar, indicates 
 the site of the manger. Some score and a half of 
 costly lamps are there burning, night and day. Pil 
 grims, from all quarters, are continually meeting in this 
 subterranean chapel, and pressing their lips upon the 
 consecrated stones. 
 
 Near by, is the room in which St. Jerome wrote the 
 Vulgate scripture; and adjoining it, are the graves of 
 
 Eusebius, of Paula, and the innocents, slain by Herod. 
 
 (189)
 
 190 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 From an eminence may be seen a valley, circular as a 
 basin, and the only fertile feature in the landscape. 
 There, they say, the startled shepherds heard the angels' 
 voices, " announcing peace on earth and good will to 
 man." In an opposite direction are the three pools of 
 Solomon. They are ranged one above another, they 
 once supplied Jerusalem with water, and still seem 
 large and full enough to float a fleet. Towards the 
 north, a small plain building, with a dome, its walls 
 scribbled over with letters of all languages, is said to be 
 the tomb of Rachel. 
 
 These localities may not be the sites of those events 
 with which tradition has identified them. But in this 
 neighborhood those marvelous scenes occurred. Hither 
 Joseph and the Virgin came to be numbered, and taxed 
 under the edict of Caesar. Near here, stood the crowded 
 inn ; the stable, in which the son of man was born 
 and cradled, over which shone the auspicious glory of 
 the star ; and in which the rejoicing Magi poured out 
 their bales of precious gifts. 
 
 This was also the scene of David's youth. Amongst 
 those hills and glens he kept his flocks, and grew in 
 comeliness and vigor. Here he was anointed by 
 the prophet ; and his character moulded by that grace 
 of heaven, which inspired his victorious heroism over 
 the wild beasts and the vaunting giants his tender 
 friendship, passing the love of woman, which knit his 
 soul with Jonathan's his exalted patriotism, in reliev 
 ing the beseiged Keilah, when its ruler sought his life 
 his generous forbearance towards the helpless, hostile 
 Saul his strict justice, in slaying the sons of Rimmon, 
 the murderers of his foe his lofty continence towards
 
 BETHLEHEM. 191 
 
 the beautiful Abigail his noble self-denial, in refusing 
 to slake his thirst in water, procured by the periled life 
 of friends his magnanimous confidence in the hospi 
 tality of Achish, his enemy his patient dignity, in 
 enduring the curses of the son of Gera his affection 
 ate grief over the loss of unfilial Absalom his ju 
 dicious and compassionate policy towards the conquered 
 rebels his sincere repentance for his crimes, and un 
 faltering faith under chastisement his prolific genius, 
 chanting praises and prophecies, in strains immortal.
 
 BELIGIOUS SECTS IN JERUSALEM. 
 
 Various religious creeds are represented in this city. 
 It seems like a capital of catholic worship the shrine 
 of all believers. You see the observance of three Sab 
 baths in one week; adverse ceremonies in the same 
 chnrch ; hostile pilgrims bending over the same tomb. 
 
 The Imaum in a green turban, the badge of Mahomet's 
 kindred, explains, on holy Friday, the faith of Islam. 
 The disciple must wash his hands and feet in sand or 
 water, as a wholesome preparation for meals and wor 
 ship curb his appetite by fasting, and on certain days 
 abstain from even the odor of a flower abhor idols, 
 avoid blood and swine, any thing strangled, accidental 
 ly killed or naturally dead. He must make a pilgrim 
 age to Mecca ; with his face thitherward, pray five times 
 a day, by standing, kneeling and prostration ; and re 
 member that the oftener his brow meets the ground, the 
 greater its proof against infernal fires. He must believe 
 in inexorable fate ; in the unity of God ; the mission of 
 the Prophet ; the existence of Genii, liable to be damned 
 and capable of heaven. He must watch for the signs 
 the issuing of a monster from the Kaaba, the advent of 
 Jesus, the appearance of Gog and Magog. Then the 
 filling of the earth with smoke, the speaking of dumb 
 beasts, and a strong wind which shall sweep away the 
 faithless. Then the opening of the judgment when each 
 
 (192)
 
 RELIGIOUS SECTS IN JERUSALEM. 193 
 
 one's words shall be weighed, the crossing of the narrow 
 bridge to Paradise, the draught at the Prophet's pond. 
 Then the repose beneath that tree which satisfies all de 
 sires ; whose shadow reaches over a journey of a hundred 
 years ; from which flow streams of wine and honey ; by 
 which lovely virgins dwell, with all the charms of sense, 
 and all the purity of spirit, not made of clay, but per 
 fumes. 
 
 You meet the Greek priest, who wears a black velvet 
 robe and square cap, and represents the largest branch 
 of the Christian Church. He believes in transubstanti- 
 ation ; predestination ; the invocation of saints ; the pro 
 priety of pictures ; the efficacy of relics ; the immersion 
 of infants, and their communion on bread sopped in 
 warm wine and water. But he rejects instrumental 
 music in the service ; the doctrines of infallibility, su 
 pererogation, and indulgences. 
 
 The Franciscan monk mortifies the flesh, in a coarse 
 brown robe, girt with a cord. It is his only garment, 
 and he wears it night and day. 
 
 The Copts are the scribes, and write for the govern 
 ment, and for the ignorant. They may be seen in white 
 turbans, with puffed cheeks and mulatto skins, scrib 
 bling from right to left in the police office, or at the 
 street corners. They believe in one unmixed nature of 
 Christ, in transubstantiation, circumcision, and the 
 baptism by fire. 
 
 The Armenians are the merchants, the farmers 
 of customs, the shippers, and traders by caravans. 
 They may be seen in their gaudy and costly church, 
 whose walls are lined with porcelain, partaking of the 
 
 17
 
 194 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 communion as they lie prostrate, amidst the ringing of 
 bells and the glare of torches. 
 
 You meet the Pilgrim with the white dust of travel 
 on his sandals, borne thither many a league, to see the 
 blessed city of three religions. He comes to bathe his 
 shroud and body in the Jordan, holier than Abana or 
 Pharpar to loiter amongst the avenues and fountains, 
 and bend in worship beneath the lofty dome of Omar's 
 Mosque. To behold the scenes, hallowed by His incar 
 nation, whose life was truth ; whose miracles were 
 charities ; whose passions were virtues ; who mingled the 
 attributes of two natures ; the graces and glories of two 
 worlds ; the authority of a spirit, with the humility of a 
 mortal ; who sealed his humanity by death, his -divinity 
 by resurrection. 
 
 You meet some of those descendants on whom their 
 fathers invoked the retribution of His blood. Who are 
 strangers there as elsewhere ; a few of them in affluence, 
 but secluded ; many of them sustained by foreign alms.
 
 FROM BEER TO TYRE. 
 
 Beer, the Mickmash of the scriptures, which gave 
 Jotham a refuge when he fled from Abimelech, is now 
 a squalid place, filled with dogs and children, who bark 
 and howl at Christian trowsers when they pass. Beyond, 
 the road is rough, toilsome and perilous, and leads by 
 streams and gaps through villages of mud and stone. 
 You meet women with tatooed cheeks and chins, car 
 rying pitchers on their shoulders, recalling the days of 
 Rebecca. You see mounted Arabs, of sinister aspect, 
 arrayed in flowing blouses, with long spears, journeying 
 like errant knights, or the highwaymen of the novels. 
 You see a camp of Pilgrims, returning baptized from the 
 Jordan, with mules and horses decked with jingling bells 
 and Bethlehem beads. 
 
 You pass the field which Jacob purchased when he 
 came from Padan Aram ; and the well he digged. There, 
 long after, the Saviour wearied with his travel through 
 Judea, met the woman of Samaria, and taught her of 
 that water, which springs up unto everlasting life ; and 
 of that devotion, which prefers to worship, neither on 
 the mountain, nor in the city, but in spirit and in truth. 
 You see where Joseph was buried when brought out of 
 Egypt ; and the rude monument which the Moslems have 
 raised to him, as one of the Patriarchs of the Koran. 
 
 (195)
 
 196 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 On opposite sides are the lofty mountains of Gerizim 
 and Ebal, where the people heard the blessing and the 
 curse. 
 
 Near by, amongst olive and orange trees, with birds 
 singing, and water purling through the streets, is Nab- 
 lous, once Shechem, a name as old as Abram. There, 
 the remnant of Samaritans dwell, retain their ancient 
 faith ; sacrifice four times a year on the top of 
 Gerizim ; and chant their service on Saturday, their 
 Sabbath. You may listen before the church, which 
 none may enter except barefooted or in slippers, and an 
 ofliciating clerk with others, will leave the altar and beg 
 you for a present. 
 
 Haifa day beyond, on a high point, in view of the 
 sea, a deep valley around it like a vast moat, is the 
 site of ancient Samaria. Two Arab huts, a ruined 
 church of the middle ages, built, it is said, where the 
 Baptist was beheaded, some marble columns in rows, 
 prostrate and standing amongst growing corn, occupy 
 at present the capital seat of the idolatrous kings of 
 Israel, and the ten lost tribes. Jezreel is now Jezreen, 
 a village of fifty souls, where Naboth was murdered for 
 his vineyard, and Jezebel eaten by the dogs. From its 
 elevated situation, with little Hermon on the right, and 
 Mount Carmel on the distant shore, you may look over 
 the magnificent valley of Esdraleon, the battle field of 
 Napoleon, and of Saul ; and Shunem, where lived the 
 widow whose hospitality obtained the blessing of the 
 man of God. 
 
 Nain is still the name of a village, where that merci 
 ful miracle restored her only son to the widowed mother,
 
 FROM BEER TO TYRE. 197 
 
 as she went weeping after him to the grave. Half an 
 hour beyond, on a wild and cavernous hill side, is Endor. 
 Calves are stabled, and hens nestle in the grotto, where 
 the Witch, at the troubled king's entreaty, disquieted the 
 rest of Samuel. 
 
 Passing by Mount Tabor, which rises, like a perfect 
 cone, glorious amongst the mountains ; and over some 
 undulating ground, covered with live oaks and lentil 
 bushes, you descend with the evening shadows into the 
 vale of Nazareth. The town of white houses is beauti 
 ful at a distance, but foul within. The spot where Ga 
 briel hailed the virgin ; the shop, a cave, in which Joseph 
 wrought ; the rock on which the Master and his disciples 
 ate, are amongst the traditionary localities of the city, 
 in which Jesus passed his youth. Cana of Galilee, is 
 now a Christian village, and associated with the miracle 
 which made the water wine. 
 
 Beyond the mountains, covered with wild barley, 
 where the multitude feasted on the loaves and fishes, 
 and left fragments, is Tiberias. Its walls are rent and 
 shattered as the earthquake left them thirty years ago. 
 There is the sea on which the disciples toiled with their 
 nets ; on which Christ walked ; whose waves he stilled in 
 the storm ; from whose shores he spoke in parables to the 
 people. 
 
 The great Mount Hermon is on the left, crowned with 
 snow. Opposite are Bethsaida and Capernaum, those 
 stubborn cities, the scenes of mighty works which would 
 have saved Sodom from her fate. A day's journey 
 thence is Acre, famous for the siege and failure of Na 
 poleon. Within the vast area of the plain around it,
 
 198 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 armies might have room to battle for the empire of the 
 world. Passing thence along the coast, you meet, per 
 haps, a Bedouin driving a dromedary and a pair of kids, 
 as presents for some marriage feast. 
 
 Traversing a tongue of land which extends far into the 
 sea, you enter over piles of dirt, an humble village, 
 whose streets are small, and foul as sewers. You see 
 men and boys fishing from the foundation rocks of an 
 cient castles ; and the only ship in the harbor, receiving 
 a cargo of excavated monuments ! This is Tyre ! 
 The blasted witness of her own sins. She has accom 
 plished her predicted doom. She exhibits, to-day, the 
 desolation which the Seer beheld, when she was the 
 glorious city of the sea when the nations traded in her 
 fairs when commerce sailed in her navies when her 
 palaces were gorgeous with golden dust, and stones of 
 fire !
 
 
 PASSPORTS, CUSTOM HOUSES AND QUA 
 RANTINE. 
 
 Every traveler has had cause to complain of these 
 three institutions. He is apt to believe that they were 
 intended to obstruct international intercourse. The 
 time which they cause him to loose; the irritation and 
 imposition to which they expose him ; the fees and 
 bribes which they compel him to pay, are sufficient 
 reasons for his prejudice. That he must carry with 
 him, in time of peace, an official description of his 
 person and citizenship, to show that he is not a revolu 
 tionist ; that he must consent to the invasion of his 
 baggage, to convince petty officers that he is no smug 
 gler ; that he must be deprived for days of his liberty, 
 in order to prove that he has no infectious disease are 
 regulations which do seem to militate against the spirit 
 of the times. 
 
 Some of these inconveniencies are much modified by 
 the liberality of governments, and the politeness of its 
 officers. Yet no delicacy in its administration can 
 make the passport system very popular. That docu 
 ment requires the seals of the police office of the place 
 one leaves, of his own national representative, and of 
 the representatives of the countries through which he 
 will pass, and to which he is bound. As the offices at 
 
 which applications must be made, for this purpose, are 
 
 (199)
 
 200 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 open only at certain hours; are often a considerable 
 distance apart ; and often thronged ; serious delays 
 consequently occur. 
 
 Being desirous of hastening to Italy, I was obliged 
 to await three days the official permission for the jour 
 ney. Before I could leave Genoa, it cost me three or 
 four dollars for the necessary vises. Though a servant 
 can usually procure the proper signatures, yet in Rome 
 I was compelled to go several times, myself, to the pub 
 lic department, and barely escaped being arrested for 
 somebody else. 
 
 One's passport is often taken from him at the gate 
 of a city, and only returned when he is ready to depart, 
 as in Vienna. Sometimes it is sent to his destination 
 in advance, as from Boulogne to Paris. In Alexandria 
 one is furnished with a new one in Arabic, to suit the 
 prejudice of Mahometans. It is important to carry it, 
 in other instances, about the person, for it may be de 
 manded anywhere, day or night, and the inability to 
 produce it would be a cause of detention. Any defect 
 in it, is a source of trouble ; a fellow passenger was 
 sent back for miles, on that account to Strasburg. It 
 is the occasion of continual expense ; is taxed by every 
 one who touches it ; and costs about twenty dollars a 
 year. It is, however, a ticket of admission to certain 
 museums, and remains afterwards a curious record of 
 one's route. 
 
 Custom Houses are not inconsistent with good gov 
 ernment, but the practice of searching private property 
 is always offensive. Some officers merely go through 
 the forms of an inspection, open the lid of one's trunk, 
 and close it. Some faithfully derange every parcel ;
 
 CUSTOM HOUSES. 201 
 
 unfold the packed linen ; probe the empty legs of boots ; 
 and open the leaves of a journal. One replied to an 
 objection against a rigorous search, that he had found 
 jewelry in stockings ; that boots were now and then 
 filled with tobacco ; and books with lace. But a small 
 coin will universally induce the subordinates to assume, 
 and assert the contrary. 
 
 At Liverpool, a quarter of a dollar, surreptitiously 
 given, stopped the inquisitive hand of the clerk. A 
 fine segar removed the suspicions of the German agent 
 in Austria. While in Italy, and the East, bribes were 
 openly demanded, and at times reduced by chaffering. 
 An odd incident occurred to myself, and four others, 
 who went from Rome to Naples, by veturrino car 
 riage. By this agreeable arrangement, the proprietor 
 of the conveyance, for about $4 a day, for each per 
 son, provided the accommodations. All of which, the 
 candles, the fire, the items of the meals, the style of 
 lodging, and the "buona mano" or presents, were 
 specified in the written contract. 
 
 We passed over the Appian way ; its large pentag 
 onal stones, here and there preserved ; its borders 
 lined with brick and marble ruins of tombs and arches, 
 aqueducts, and temples. We passed the supposed spot 
 where Coriolanus yielded to his mother's prayer for 
 Rome ; where Clodius was slain by Milo; where Asca- 
 nius was buried ; . where Pompey had a villa ; by a lake 
 said to cover an extinct volcano, and then into the town 
 of Albano ; and lunched in the former palace of Charles 
 the fourth of Spain. 
 
 Thence by Aricia, where Horace lodged when he 
 went to meet Mecaenas, situated on a hill, walled and
 
 202 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 dirty, where women in red jackets and blue skirts were 
 sitting at a well, or carrying water on their heads in 
 copper jars. We slept at Velletri, where Augustus 
 was born ; whose streets are steep, and whose houses of 
 stone are like stables, both in odor and construction. 
 
 Thence through the Pontine marshes ; between double 
 rows of elms; over a well paved causeway, without 
 curve, or hill, or toll gate ; with meadow and swamp 
 on either side ; the haunts of plovers, snipes and 
 thrushes, of brigands and wild boars ; and dined at the 
 Forum Appii, mentioned in Paul and Horace. 
 
 Thence by men in black pointed felt hats, and 
 breeches of rags, or skins ; by donkeys tottering under 
 heaps of hay or wood, near "the goodly city" of 
 ancient Antium, where the Apollo Belvidere was dis 
 covered. Then near that promontory where Circe had 
 her palace, and her prison for the comrades of Ulysses. 
 Then to Terracina, hanging on a rock two hundred 
 feet high, the sea roaring at its base, and the last city 
 of the Pope's. 
 
 On reaching the Neapolitan frontiers, as the spokes 
 man of the party, I was invited into a room up stairs. 
 There the collector, exhibiting great affability, in 
 stantly gave me, to present at the next office, a cer 
 tificate that our baggage had been properly examined 
 Surprised at his liberality, I cordially and innocently 
 tendered him, after the Italian fashion, a thousand 
 thanks, and deferentially bowed out of his presence 
 backwards. A shade of disappointment, however, 
 seemed to cross his face. 
 
 Seated in the carriage, I astonished my companions, 
 by describing the graciousness of the agent ; and while
 
 CUSTOM HOUSES. 203 
 
 we were all concluding that his government was better 
 than its reputation, a soldier came to the window, and 
 claimed pay for the certificate. We incontinently 
 laughed outright at this proof of our own blunder, and 
 his impudence. One of our number offered him a 
 huge copper bajocco, bearing the image of Garibaldi, 
 once worth about three cents. He shrugged his should 
 ers, and naively declined the currency, which just then 
 represented an obsolete idea. As we drove off he 
 leaped on the box, with the driver, determined to con 
 vince us that his superior ought to have been bribed. 
 
 At the next office, we showed our clearance, but the 
 person in charge having conversed with the soldier, 
 disregarded it. Rather than be stopped, with five large 
 trunks, whose examination might be maliciously pro 
 longed, we offered him five francs. He refused them 
 contemptously, and demanded an exorbitant sum. The 
 porter, by his orders, began to unload the luggage. I 
 followed him into his room, where several were seated 
 around a basin of hot coals, and mildly expostulated ; 
 spoke of our urgent haste ; and broadly alluded to a 
 letter, which I had to the Pope's chamberlain. Leav 
 ing the driver with him, I returned disappointed, to our 
 party. 
 
 While they were indulging in a little audible pro 
 fanity, the officer came up to me, hat in hand ; regretted 
 the misunderstanding ; commanded the trunks to be 
 strapped up again ; saluted us with a " good voyage," 
 and remained with his assistants, uncovered, till we 
 were out of sight. 
 
 This extraordinary turn to our fortune, was soon 
 explained by the driver, to have been due to his inge-
 
 204 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 nious lying. On his own motion, taking the hint from 
 the letter spoken of; he represented that I was an 
 American ambassador, and the others my suite. Though 
 properly vexed at this deception, it was gratifying to 
 know that the government had not been slandered, 
 and that its extortioners had been defeated. This, 
 however, was the only instance of such luck, which 
 fell to my lot ; the rest of my experience was generally 
 expensive and unpleasant. 
 
 Yet neither custom houses nor passports are as in 
 tolerable as the lazaretto, for it includes the evils of 
 both, and adds to them personal restraint. As it is 
 always located at the termination of a weary route, 
 by sea or land, one does not enter it with much en 
 thusiasm. The uneasy saddle of the camel, and the 
 restless deck of a ship, are preferable to a prison. 
 
 My first quarantine was performed in the suburbs of 
 the scriptural town of Gaza. The building was large, 
 rectangular, with small cells, whose windows and doors 
 faced an open court in the centre. The closing of the 
 heavy gates on us excited a sense of oppression, and a 
 regret that Samson was dead, and a habeas corpus 
 would not lie in the bailiwick of the Philistines. 
 
 After an exposure of five days to a Syrian sun, 
 blazing within the walls, as in a tube, and to those 
 vermin referred to in Exodus ; after panting in an at 
 mosphere which had no chance of circulation ; and 
 lodging in apartments for which a grand jury would 
 indict a jailer ; feeding on sickly indigenous chickens, 
 served on iron dishes, by a waiter who used his shirt 
 sleeve for a dish cloth, and the tureen for a wash basin 
 we were glad to accomplish our legal purification,
 
 QUARANTINE. 205 
 
 and like an exhausted congress, to be allowed to go 
 "without day." 
 
 Some months afterwards, we repeated, with some 
 difference, the same ordeal at Smyrna. The table was 
 unexpectedly good, fish and figs being conspicuous. 
 The crowd was so great that several were lodged in one 
 room. I was thus compelled, every night, to hear a 
 discussion between a French count and a Socialist, 
 whom the quarantine, like misery, had made bedfel 
 lows. The chattering of pet monkeys ; the cries of in 
 fants ; the yelping of curs ; and the wailing songs of 
 Orientals, also helped to disturb one's temper and re 
 pose. The charges imposed were nevertheless uncon 
 scionable ; but our release made us generous, and we 
 paid them without murmurs. 
 
 On the coast of the pretty island of Syra, I entered 
 a lazaretto for the last time. The rooms were large 
 and high ; the wild sea dashed its waves against the 
 walls below, and famous shores were in sight around 
 us. The fare was vile; the meat tough or tainted; the 
 bread "dry as the remainder biscuit after a long 
 voyage." The waiter was old, deaf, decrepit and 
 blear-eyed ; the cook regarded neither cleanliness nor 
 godliness. To all our remonstrances, the incorrigible 
 stewart replied by apologies to every delinquency by 
 a promise of repentance his politeness increased with 
 our indignation. He disarmed the curses of one, by 
 giving him the appellation of Effendi ; and the assault 
 of another, by saluting him with the title of Pasha. 
 While he thus saved himself by " soft answers," like a 
 Christian, we had to be hungry and submit. 
 
 18
 
 206 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 The company, various and social, contrived notwith 
 standing to be amused. There, among others, was a 
 Greek, whose rich language still rings with historic ac 
 cents a German, with his objective and subjective 
 dogmas an East India Englishman, fluent with bril 
 liant narrative and Symriote women, eloquent with 
 love and beauty. Thus parties flirtations dances 
 concerts the soft airs of passion the heroic hymns 
 of nations, made some amends for the hardships of 
 durance and diet.
 
 
 CONSTANTINOPLE. 
 
 This is Constantinople ! here, at the confluence of 
 two seas by the contiguous shores of continents with 
 its panorama of spires, and masts, of trees, and cupolas, 
 and the Golden Horn ! 
 
 Skirted by a wall of brick and stone, crumbling like 
 the empire, with cannon on the quays, is the Seraglio. 
 Its palaces have marble rooms for bathing, and long 
 saloons with latticed windows, and matted floors. Groves 
 of evergreen and sycamore adorn the grounds. Its 
 Porte, or gate, gave name to the government, and under 
 its arch, ambassadors formerly waited an hour beneath an 
 uplifted axe. The numerous widows of the late Sultan, 
 are imprisoned in one of the mansions, according to 
 custom, for their lives. 
 
 Behind it, is Saint Sophia's once a church, now a 
 mosque which, it was said, an angel planned ; and at 
 which, an Emperor toiled. It is of grand dimensions, 
 and rich materials ; and to it, every quarry seems to 
 have contributed stone, and every temple columns. It 
 is furnished with little else than mats, and rugs, and 
 pendant lamps. Its tapering minarets, and swelling 
 dome are so light and graceful, that they seem floating 
 in the air. Far back, rises the snowy summit of Mount 
 Olympus. The tideless sea of Marmora mingles the 
 color of its waves with the distant blue of the horizon. 
 
 (207)
 
 208 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 And there is Tophane with its quay and fountain ; 
 Pera with its Franks and Dragomans ; Galata with the 
 fire tower, built by the Genoese. 
 
 The streets are only winding alleys, offensive and un 
 clean. The houses appear to have been built down 
 wards, their tops are so much larger than their bases. 
 
 The shops will not admit either the vendor or his 
 customer. Hucksters are numerous, selling cherry 
 water and fresh fruits. The carriages are gaudy as 
 Christmas boxes, without springs, and the coachman 
 walks. Jewish women have tires like crescents around 
 their heads, such perhaps, as the prophet spake of. 
 Porters carry saddles on their backs, and compete with 
 the donkeys. 
 
 There are tombs of the Sultans, decorated with marble, 
 with pearl and cashmere. The cemeteries occupy more 
 ground perhaps, than the city. Some of them are places 
 of promenade and pastime ; where jugglers perform their 
 tricks; bands of music play; well dressed people 
 take refreshments ; and the constant odor of death per 
 vades the air. The Hippodrome with its obelisks ; the 
 Burnt Column ; the Brazen Pillars with serpents' heads ; 
 two of the Seven Towers, and The thousand and one 
 columns, under ground, the resort of bats and rope- 
 makers ; are some of the relics of the ancient City of 
 the Emperors. 
 
 The existence of a fire is made known by a light on 
 the tower, and by the discharge of guns. The firemen 
 and water carriers, run with water skins and hooks and 
 axes. The engine is borne on the shoulders of two men ; 
 mounted policemen, and the Pasha direct the operations. 
 The Dancing Dervishes, a sect of Mahometan monks,
 
 CONSTANTINOPLE. 209 
 
 perform their devotions on Tuesdays. An old man, all 
 in green, bows towards the East. The others, in tall 
 white felt hats, and white robes, squat on the floor. A 
 slow nasal chant is commenced by one, and at the tap 
 of a drum, all fall flat upon their faces ; rise instantly to 
 their feet ; and march round a circle, in measured time. 
 
 Soon they throw aside their robes ; and in white 
 jackets and sort of petticoats, revolve by the hour, with 
 the regularity of spindles ; while the oldest passes 
 through them; stamping his foot, to increase their en 
 thusiasm and rapidity. 
 
 The Turkish women wear thin white veils, and appear 
 to be homely, pale and freckled. The men have aban 
 doned turbans for Fez caps ; and many wear the Frank 
 costume altogether. We crossed over to the other Con 
 tinent, and climbed the steep and toilsome heights of 
 Bulgurlu, to enjoy its enchanting prospect. We wan 
 dered through the cemetery of Scutari, with its ever 
 greens waving over the once turbaned tombstones, 
 and the costly sepulchre of Mahmoud's horse. 
 
 Here was an exhibition of the Howling Dervishes. 
 Having either embraced the Sheik, or kissed his finger, 
 ring or turban ; all sat on the floor in a circle, and com 
 menced a low prayer. Then standing up they began a 
 guttural chant, and swayed their bodies backward and 
 forward. As they elevated their voices, they increased 
 the velocity of their motions. Growing excited, they 
 redoubled their exertions, until their concert became a 
 frightful howl ; most of them fell exhausted, trembling, 
 and foaming at the mouth, like maniacs. The Sheik 
 during the ceremony stood on the breast of a child to 
 cure its sickness by a miracle.
 
 210 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 We went up the Bosphorus, whose name recalls the 
 story of lo on whose banks the retreating Xenophon 
 reposed through whose swimming rocks Jason adven 
 tured for the Golden Fleece. Its indented shores in 
 close, many placid lakes are enriched with luxurious 
 summer palaces with vales fairer than the meadows of 
 Damascus with waters sweeter than the wells of Para 
 dise with viljages shaded by the pendant branches of 
 fig and mulberry with monuments to heroes with 
 fallen altars to the gods. 
 
 Such are some of the attractions and features of the 
 Sultan's city. Nature has not formed, nor man select 
 ed, a grander site. It seems fitted for the capital of 
 universal empire. No wonder that it has been so long 
 a tempting prize that it has been the battle ground of 
 races and religions that it is still the paramount object 
 of international jealousy and ambition.
 
 THE SULTAN, ABDUL MEDJID. 
 
 Crossing the bridge of boats, which join Galata 
 and iStamboul, I was startled by the sudden thunder of 
 artillery, announcing the Sultan with a fleet of steam 
 ers, returning from a tour. As he came up the Bos- 
 phorus, the sea and city trembled with the boisterous 
 welcome of a thousand cannons. The flags were 
 flaunted from the masts, and towers. The quays 
 were crowded with the people. The shopmen forsook 
 their stalls. The beggars left their haunts. The crip 
 ples forgot their lameness. The women, in their curi 
 osity, pushed aside their veils. 
 
 When night came the illuminated windows ; the fire 
 works blazing amongst the cypress trees ; the lamps 
 shining along the ropes and port holes of the vessels ; 
 and the sounds of pleasant music, prolonged the joy 
 and lustre of the day. While this reception showed 
 the popularity of Abdul Medjid, scarcely any one ob 
 tained a glimpse of his person. 
 
 On the next Friday, the Moslem sabbath, I engaged 
 a caique ; one of those delicate boats, light as shells, 
 which, sharp at both ends, skim the water like a sea 
 bird. Seated carefully on the bottom, to preserve its 
 balance, with the oarsman dressed in white trowsers 
 and embroidered shirt, we hovered about the mouth of 
 the Golden Horn, to see what mosque the Sultan would 
 
 (211)
 
 212 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 that day visit. It was in the warm month of June, 
 and the scene was such as no other spot can display. 
 
 At last the signal gun was fired, as the Sultan left 
 the pier of his Asiatic palace. He was attended by four 
 large caiques, one in advance, and two others in the 
 rear of the one he occupied. Seen in the distance, the 
 long procession moving in a line swift as an arrow 
 glistening in the sun seemed like a train of light upon 
 the wave. 
 
 The drawn bridge was covered with the bayonets of 
 soldiers as he entered the Golden Horn. In the most 
 magnificent of the barges ; which appeared to be a 
 combination of a gondola and a canoe ; with painted 
 sides and gilded -prow ; manned by twenty-six seamen, 
 whose burnished oars kept a measured beat upon the 
 waters ; sheltered by a canopy of silk on golden pil 
 lars ; seated on a cashmere cushion ; with his ofiicers 
 at his feet, and their faces towards him sat the Mon 
 arch of the East. 
 
 He passed on, leaving behind the flapping sails, the 
 curling smoke of steamers, the shoals of small caiques, 
 gliding like playthings on the current. Amidst the 
 roar of guns from towers and navy ; the flashing of 
 flags ; and the loud swell of martial music, he landed 
 at Eyoub opposite which his predecessor launched the 
 ships that won the city. 
 
 He walked for some distance on a carpet, spread out 
 for him ; through a passage lined with veiled women, 
 and wide trowsered men. He then mounted a white 
 horse, richly, but not gaudily caparisoned, and rode 
 slowly to the sacred mosque, in which the sovereigns 
 are inaugurated with the sword.
 
 ABDUL MEDJID. 213 
 
 The crowd treated him with becoming respect. There 
 was no marked sentiment of awe. They gave a peculiar 
 salute with their hands. But they made neither genu 
 flexions nor prostrations. They did not manifest any 
 enthusiasm. The men gave no cheers the women 
 waved no handkerchiefs. Not a murmur of approba 
 tion was heard. But they regarded him with some 
 pride. They showed uneasiness at the presence of 
 foreigners, and expressed indignation when they ap 
 proached near his person. 
 
 He was a young man, of the ordinary height, and of 
 a slender figure. He wore a Fez cap, a red woolen 
 cylindrical article without a rim, adorned with a jewel 
 ed tassel on the crown. He had on a dark frock coat, 
 fastened with cords of braid, and white pantaloons. 
 His mouth was concealed by a moustache. His face 
 was brown and pensive. You could read there no 
 trace of great emotions ; no ambitious dreams ; no con 
 sciousness of power ; no fear of responsibility. It 
 seemed impressed with the fatuity of his religion ; with 
 the gravity of his race ; and with the mildness of his 
 life. 
 
 One could hardly realize that he had a hundred wives ; 
 that he reigned over the fairest region of the world ; 
 over the eastern half of the Roman possessions, from 
 the cataracts of the Nile to the shores of the Euxine, 
 and from the Bosphorus to the Adriatic. That he 
 would risk a war, perhaps a throne, in order to dis 
 charge the duties of hospitality to Kossuth. That his 
 army would win battles in a conflict with Russia. That 
 he himself was described as the shadow of God.
 
 214 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 He seemed more like the sick man of the Emperor 
 Nicholas. With a debilitated frame, and a hopeless 
 constitution, he was a type of his declining empire. 
 His subjects are enervated by idleness, tobacco and 
 polygamy. They are said to be honest, but not so 
 conscientious, as formerly, against wine and usury. 
 There is one newspaper devoted, they say, to anecdotes 
 about the sagacity of animals. The schools produce 
 few scholars. The courts may be said to be without 
 juries, and without advocates. Commerce is in the 
 hands of strangers. Religion promises a sensual para 
 dise. Women are uneducated. Soldiers are influenced 
 by fatalism, as likely to inspire cowardice as courage. 
 
 The Sultan has, therefore, no intrinsic resources for 
 the continuance of his power. He relies for political 
 existence, not on his navy, which Americans built ; nor 
 on his army, which Frenchmen disciplined; but on 
 foreign troops. He expects actual aid, when neces 
 sary, from those nations who filled the ranks of the 
 Crusaders. The successor of Saladin is sustained by 
 the successors of the lion-hearted Richard and Philip 
 Augustus ; and the Crescent floats under the shadow 
 of the Cross.
 
 ATHENS. 
 
 Sunset was flinging gay colors over the heights of 
 Paros, whence were obtained the blocks of the "Medi- 
 cean Venus," and the "Dying Gladiator," as we left the 
 pleasant island of Syra, The next morning we reached 
 Athens, 
 
 "A place we longed to see, nor cared to leave." 
 
 The city has a picturesque situation, amongst historic 
 seas, isles and mountains. Battles, earthquakes, and 
 two thousand years have marred her monuments, and 
 quenched her altars, But her rivulets, plains and ruins 
 have peculiar charms. The halo of ancient days still 
 sheds a beauty on the scene. One may fancy the 
 shades of the past still lingering near that he hears 
 eloquence murmuring in the winds ; reads poetry writ 
 ten on the leaves ; sees art mirrored in the waters ; and 
 valor springing from the ground. Every thing has 
 such classic features ; nature wears such a heroic aspect, 
 that you cannot deem this a common soil, nor the mo 
 ther of common men. It is marked by the footsteps 
 of great souls ; and every sense proclaims it a land of 
 glory. 
 
 Look all around scarcely any other prospect is so 
 full of interest. Every view is associated with some 
 
 famous incident, or some grand idea with some achieve- 
 
 (215)
 
 216 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 ment of the hand, or intellect, which has influenced 
 society for centuries. 
 
 Standing on the top of Pentelicus, whose quarries are 
 yet open, which furnished the marble of the ancient 
 structures you may see on one side, the crescent shore 
 and green plain, with its tumulus of soldiers ; and on the 
 other , the distant bay with its rock bound walls ; re 
 calling the victories of Miltiades and Themistocles, and 
 the immortal names of Salamis and Marathon. Climb 
 ing the Acropolis, greatly elevated above the sea, and 
 insulated from the other heights, the scene of the fabled 
 spring of Neptune and olive of Minerva ; and you are 
 before the Parthenon. 
 
 It was the temple of the Citadel ; associating an erro 
 neous faith with public security, it was a splendid 
 expression of the national taste and superstition. It is 
 in ruins ; its cella shattered ; many columns prostrate ; 
 the ivory image of the Goddess gone ; the elaborate 
 frieze of Phidias disfigured and despoiled ; yet it is 
 always the world's great model of architectural beauty 
 and proportion. 
 
 Near by is the Pnyx, now as of old, an open hill side, 
 with the Bema, the pulpit rock of eloquence, shaped like 
 an altar, facing the mountains. It was there, the ora 
 tors roused and ruled the murmuring masses ; and shook 
 the distant thrones. Yonder flows the Cephissus, now 
 driving a mill wheel ; now irrigating a garden ; now 
 wandering through the olive groves of Academus, once 
 animated by the discourses and the school of Plato. 
 
 There, is the Doric fane and tomb of Theseus, beau 
 tifully preserved ; a memorial of posthumous gratitude 
 over the ashes of the hero ; while around its portico the
 
 ATHENS. 217 
 
 Peripatetics listened to the teachings of the Stagirite. 
 There, in the solid rock, is the prison cave of Socrates, 
 reminding us of his life almost Christian in its vir 
 tues and of his death, which excited the repentance of 
 his judges, and drew retribution on his foes. 
 
 On the left is the Stadium, of immense capacity, 
 scooped out like a valley or the basin of a lake, from 
 whose inclining sides, now overgrown with grass, the 
 populace witnessed the contest of the races. There, 
 two columns remain of the theatre of Bacchus, once 
 trod by buskined actors in the tragedies of Euripides ; 
 and resonant with the shouts of the multitude, when 
 Demosthenes was crowned with gold. 
 
 And there, most memorable of all, with solid stairs 
 and stools of stone, is the hill of Mars. It was the seat 
 of that renowned tribunal, which met at night to insure 
 justice, against fear and favor. It was there, before 
 Areopagites, Stoics and Epicureans before the news- 
 seeking citizens and strangers and the magnificent 
 display of idolatrous altars some mocked, and some 
 believed, the apostle of the Gentiles, when he stood in 
 their midst ; setting forth a strange doctrine of resur 
 rection and judgment ; a new religion of faith and re 
 pentance ; and the Unknown God, who dwelleth not in 
 temples made with hands. 
 
 There, scantily supplied by the fountain of Callirhoe, 
 trickles the almost waterless Ilissus, on whose banks 
 the Lyceum flourished. Beyond, rises the ridge of 
 Mount Hymettus, now bright and fragrant with the 
 blossoms of wild thyme ; and swarming, as ever, with 
 myriads of honey bees. On a vast artificial platform, 
 tower the colossal relics of Jupiter's Corinthian temple. 
 
 19
 
 218 MISCELLANIES, 
 
 It was begun under a domestic tyrant ; finished by a 
 foreign conqueror ; and the progress of its construc 
 tion kept pace with all the eras of democratic rule. 
 
 These are some of the wrecks and localities of this 
 early, brilliant republic. She declined, and with her 
 gods and heroes passed away. Spoiled by success ; 
 betrayed by corruption she sowed the seeds of her 
 dissolution, by ingratitude to her best citizens. She 
 appreciated their worth, when it was too late, when 
 they were in exile, and in the grave ; and like another 
 nation, the sons garnished the tombs of those, whom 
 the fathers stoned. 
 
 Turning from these reminiscences, you may, in the 
 moonlight evenings, on the public walks, mingle with 
 the modern Greeks. They wear gilded jackets, white 
 kilts, and crimson caps. They have brilliant eyes ; 
 flowing hair ; a most musical language ; figures and 
 faces like ancient models ; a fondness for liberty and 
 novelty; and a natural quickness of intellect. They 
 have little business enterprise ; some men of learning ; 
 a respectable bar ; an ignorant clergy ; and a reputa 
 tion for veracity, unfortunate, if only half deserved. 
 
 Their monarchy of constitutional limitations recognises 
 universal suffrage, and virtually destroys it, by official 
 interference at the polls. Their revenue hardly pays 
 the labor, or the avarice of those employed in its col 
 lection. The interest of their public debt is discharged 
 by those who guarantied the loan. Their navy of one 
 ship, and army of ten thousand men, are more for the 
 security of the rulers than the people. 
 
 Their King is an alien by birth ; dresses in the na 
 tive costume ; speaks imperfectly the language ; amia-
 
 ATHENS. 219 
 
 ble and diligent, but incapable ; and surrounded and 
 controlled by mercenary parasites, and foreign agents. 
 The royal palace, which vies with the richest in Europe, 
 was buHt on the ground of an Englishman, who was 
 Paid through the intervention of the British fleet. 
 Such is Athens, poor without paupers, independent 
 without power ; but her history, and her monuments 
 will make her a place of pilgrimage for ever.
 
 LETTERS OF CREDIT. 
 
 Travelers usually carry a special letter of credit to 
 some particular house ; or a general one, in printed 
 form, addressed to the bankers of various cities, who 
 endorse on it the sums they respectively pay. And 
 although one loses something by commissions on these 
 payments, he avoids the trouble of transporting coin ; 
 and is able to draw the amount he requires, in the cur 
 rency of the place in which he stops. 
 
 With a letter of the former description in my pocket, 
 I boarded a steamboat, bound on an excursion around 
 the pleasant Isle of Wight, whose circumference is 
 some sixty miles. It was a summer day ; but the 
 wanton wind leaping from the sea, and the fresh spray 
 spreading rainbows above us, made the atmosphere de 
 lightful. The music of adventitious harps and organs, 
 and the shifting panorama of the shore, excited and 
 amused the crowded decks. The insular circuit was 
 soon made the castles ; the towns ; the deep caverns ; 
 the tall chalky cliffs, called the Needles, rising from 
 the sea like the spars of an iceberg; the river and the 
 streams ; the distant Osborne palace ; the white sand 
 banks, used in making glass ; the arable acres mantling 
 with their harvest grain, or animated with the pasturing 
 flocks ; were at length all passed, and we landed where 
 we started, and dispersed. 
 
 (220)
 
 LETTERS OP CREDIT. 221 
 
 Sauntering from the wharf, I missed my letter as I 
 entered the hotel. It was a quiet tavern, peculiarly 
 English ; such as Shenstone lauded for its welcome 
 promising clean linen and roast beef; with a tidy young 
 woman to make out the bills ; and a head waiter for 
 host, whose apparel, of white and black, was a cross 
 between a cook's and a parson's. They showed a 
 proper concern for the loss of the letter, and suggested 
 a reward for it. That evening, the ancient streets of 
 Ryde were disturbed by the clatter of the bellman, 
 who, with all the zeal of Dr. Syntax, in pursuit of 
 the picturesque ; or of Diognes, with a lantern, seeking 
 an honest man, endeavored to discover the thief, or 
 finder, by an offer of compensation. But nothing 
 
 " Was found 
 By the crier in his round 
 Through the town." 
 
 Although the letter could not have been used without 
 forgery, I concluded to prevent any chance of its pay 
 ment. I took the first conveyance to Portsmouth, and 
 in an express train, through Brighton, sped like a missile 
 to Folkestone. Thence over the channel, rough enough 
 to disgust all landsmen, to Boulogne; famous for that 
 failure of Napoleon, which history proves was the 
 shadow of success. Urged through the vociferous mob, 
 of blouses and moustaches; my passport and baggage, 
 sent for examination to the offices ; two meals "rounded 
 with a sleep;" then seated in one of the cars, which, 
 like the English, are divided in compartments, suffici 
 ent to contain eight or ten persons ; we were borne 
 swiftly to the gay capital of France,
 
 222 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 The vast depot was furnished with counters and 
 clerks, who, presuming every one to be a huckster, 
 searched the trunks for produce, subject to market 
 duty. My inventory having satisfied the official, I 
 inquired of him how I could immediately find Mr. G. 
 With many graceful gesticulations and apologies, he 
 regretted his inability to answer. Perplexed, like the 
 Oriental, who was bound in a limited time, to find a 
 stranger in Bagdad, I was about yielding to defeat ; 
 when the railroad superintendent directed me to the 
 establishment. I was there relieved of further anxiety. 
 
 I never heard of the missing note. Some repentant 
 rascal, perhaps, may reveal its story on his death bed. 
 It may have drifted down amongst the subterranean 
 currents, and torn, worn, in fragments, or in powder, 
 made the circuit of the seas. It may have gone into 
 the everlasting limbo of lost things, with the lost arts, 
 the lost books, and the lost tribes. Six months after 
 wards, however, calling, by chance, at the post-office 
 in Rome, I unexpectedly received one in lieu of it. 
 
 The fate of a similar letter occasioned a serious dis 
 advantage. On going to Egypt I informed the banker 
 that my address after certain named dates, would be 
 respectively at Cairo, Beyrout, Smyrna, Constanti 
 nople, &c. With this understanding, I was disappoint 
 ed on my return down the Nile, in not receiving a re 
 mittance at Cairo. I wrote about it to various places 
 in vain. The dust, the fleas, the flies, the heat, the ap 
 proaching summer, made that city less attractive every 
 day. After a long delay, I met, accidently, an Ameri 
 can acquaintance, who supplied me with a sum which 
 would be temporarily sufficient, if I could get cashed
 
 LETTERS OF CREDIT. 223 
 
 the order I obtained in Rome. The German banker 
 repeatedly evaded my application ; but fearing that it 
 would be soon unsafe to cross the desert, I enlisted the 
 interest of the Vice-Consul, Mr. Kahili. Our united 
 courtesies at last subdued his brusqueness and com 
 punctions. 
 
 Eight weeks afterwards, while moving along, poor in 
 purse and spirit, I saw with delight the fig trees and 
 oleanders of Beyrout. Before shaking off the dust of 
 travel, I inquired at the banker's, only to be told that 
 he had nothing for me. Our Consul, Mr. J. Chasseaud, 
 however, on reading an introductory note from Mr. 
 Cass, Jr., obliged me with the required money. 
 
 I reached Smyrna, supposed to have been built by 
 Tantalus ; and where my disappointment recalled his 
 punishment. When the minarets of the Eastern capital 
 hove in view, it seemed impossible that I could be 
 longer embarrassed. Yet here I learned that such -a 
 letter had been sent to Smyrna ; that the steamer was 
 injured ; and her mail, by some error, had been for 
 warded to Beyrout. 
 
 A month in Constantinople exhausted my curiosity 
 and resources. With a cordial introduction, under a 
 printed heading, and stamped with the official seal from 
 a public functionary, to a member of our Embassy, who 
 was then in the United States; I expended my last guinea 
 in a journey up the Bosphorus to visit his substitute. 
 He received me well ; perused the letter with satisfac 
 tion, and invited me to dine with him. But as he 
 replied to my financial narrative, by scratching his 
 organ of cautiousness ; and an abrupt reference to Eastern 
 antiquities, I declined with forced politeness to eat his
 
 224 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 salt. That night the countless dogs of the city seemed 
 to be barking at my misfortunes. 
 
 But in the morning a Scotch traveling acquaintance, 
 to whom I related my diplomatic experience, voluntarily 
 replenished my exchequer. Having repaid the Consul 
 by a draft ; and arrived at Athens ; instead of money, I 
 received notice that funds would be sent to Venice. 
 This was a fair prospect, but of no immediate im 
 portance to hotel keepers, and steamboat captains. 
 The Caledonian again opened his purse. 
 
 Venice, I do remember ; not only for its beauty and 
 uniqueness, but also, because there, after a fortnight's 
 patience, came the long desired heavy envelope. No 
 commission was ever more grateful to the weary office 
 hunter ; no bauble was ever dearer to longing child ; nor 
 love missive to pining maid, than that small parcel was 
 to me. I returned to the good Scotchman, just as he 
 was leaving the city, his loan, which only that morning 
 he offered to increase. This letter explained the mystery 
 about the other. The first had been mailed in England, 
 but the postage not having been prepaid, it lay a week 
 or more in the office. It was then sent to Constantinople, 
 and reached there before I did, and thence as already 
 stated. 
 
 One year from its date, while in the University of 
 Berlin, the lost letter came, defaced with many inscrip 
 tions and printed marks, and taxed five dollars for 
 postage. During the same year, on the Alameda of 
 Seville, "famous for oranges and women," I was plea 
 santly surprised to meet the generous Scot. Again, 
 after an interval of a few months, when in Paris I
 
 LETTERS OF CREDIT. 225 
 
 gladly reciprocated his favors, when he was also disap 
 pointed in a remittance. Such annoyances as these had 
 their compensation; for they protracled a sojourn in 
 places of interest ; elicited the confidence of strangers ; 
 and gave rise to lasting attachments.
 
 "Florence! beneath the sun, 
 Of cities, fairest one." Shelley. 
 
 As the stranger enters a cafe, in Florence, a pretty 
 girl, in a large leghorn hat, will probably give him a 
 boquet. This, however, is only an appeal to his silver, 
 through the medium of a sentiment. He is expected 
 to pay for the courtesy. 
 
 Yet the place is attractive to both the economical 
 and the curious. Wine and books, galleries and land 
 scapes, fleas, garlic, and fine weather, are abundant. 
 Invalids, artists, authors, and people fond of mediaeval 
 associations, make it their residence. No tourist wiH 
 neglect to visit this beautiful city of St. John. 
 
 If public celebrations please him he may, perhaps, 
 witness the races of Roman chariots ; or youth, with 
 paper lanterns, rejoicing around the festooned altars ; 
 or the imposing procession of robed dignitaries, follow 
 ing a golden Christ beneath a pall, while the bells toll, 
 and the monks chant for "the dead of all time." 
 
 If he is familiar with the genesis of curves he may 
 study the structure of one of the bridges, whose use 
 was prohibited, while the nature of its arches was dis 
 cussed. 
 
 If he would see paintings there is the ideal beauty 
 of the Virgin, which Raphael's pencil has incarnadin 
 ed. 
 
 (226)
 
 FLORENCE. 227 
 
 If he would see sculpture there are the "intoxi 
 cating charms" of the unveiled Venus; and "the 
 thought of Michael Angelo" in the marble face of the 
 sitting Lorenzo. 
 
 If he would see groups in bronze there are the 
 gorgeous gates in the Baptistery, which admirers have 
 deemed worthy of Paradise. 
 
 If he would see precious stones he may enter cabi 
 nets, sparkling with the water of a mine of gems ; or 
 that unrivaled Medicean chapel, designed to shed its 
 lustre on the Saviour's tomb. 
 
 If he would see architecture let him trace the deli 
 cate lines of Brunelleschi's dome, as they swell upward 
 in elegant harmony with the great vault above them. 
 
 If he would see libraries-^there are halls teeming 
 with manuscripts and volumes, oriental, and classic. 
 
 If he would enjoy gardens he may saunter by grot 
 tos and by statues, along arched and open alleys, 
 brilliant and fragrant with unnumbered plants. 
 
 If he would have prospects he may gaze from the 
 Cyclopean walls of the ancient Fiesole, on a scene 
 which once charmed the unclouded sight of Milton. 
 
 If he would go where they have laid their historic 
 dead he will find the genius of all the arts doing 
 homage at their shrines. 
 
 If he would know the eventful progress of the city 
 he may read on her pavements, in the aisles of her 
 palaces and churches, how she caught up the torch of 
 knowledge from the sepulchre of nations ; and echoed 
 the eloquence of democracy in her piazza, when the 
 Pnyx was no longer known at Athens, and the Comitia 
 had disappeared from Rome.
 
 228 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 Long she flourished in opulence and influence. Her 
 armies, her bards, her artists, her statesmen, and her 
 merchants filled all countries with her fame. 
 
 She became enervated. She yielded to the silver 
 yoke of splendid tyrants. She was a slave. 
 
 There she stood for centuries ; leaning on her orna 
 ments ; her delicious hands in fetters ; her melodious 
 lips sealed ; her radiant eyes turned sadly toward the 
 past ; fixed, silent, and cold, like the marble Greek of 
 Powers. But still beautiful! still exquisite in her 
 pensive trance ! waiting for the spark of freedom to 
 quicken her spirit, and kindle her graces to their appro 
 priate splendor.
 
 AGRICULTURAL ADDRESS 1855. 
 
 It is not the purpose of this discourse to give lessons 
 in farming. Such matters as require study and experi 
 ence I was not asked to discuss, and do not presume to 
 teach. 
 
 " Non tarn procul absim ab Urbe." 
 
 My humbler task is but to diversify the entertainment 
 of the hour, and give some, though inadequate expres 
 sion to thoughts which the occasion universally inspires. 
 An appropriate topic is this exhibition of earth's bounty, 
 and man's enterprise, suggesting whatever is pleasant 
 in the annals of industry, the marvels of nature, or the 
 promises of time. 
 
 What assurances of plenty, what pledges of progress, 
 does this promiscuous scene afford! Its success mani 
 fests the public partiality towards a most important in 
 terest. It is a wise policy which periodically concen 
 trates in one place all that is beautiful, and strong, and 
 wholesome ; which covers the ground with contributions 
 and spectators ; with fair ladies, fast horses, fat oxen, 
 tall corn, stout men, shanghai chickens, and monstrous 
 melons ; with huge machines, which cut ten acres of 
 grass in a day, and thresh eight bushels of wheat in an 
 hour ; with churns, which always bring the butter ; 
 rakes which revolve, instead of breaking ; drills which 
 
 (229) 20
 
 230 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 sow better than the hand ; ploughs which do not choke, 
 and run almost alone in the furrow ; harrows which 
 crush the clods like millstones, and substances which 
 make the barren places smile. 
 
 Thus, to bring together the best varieties of every 
 department, and have their qualities^-their culture, and 
 all their appliances examined and explained ; to have 
 their defects exposed, and their merits tried; to have 
 the criticism and judgment of the crowd upon them, is 
 surely a wholesale method of imparting and obtaining 
 information. 
 
 Innumerable examples also prove that such public 
 displays promote no less their immediate object, than 
 the harmony and instruction of the people. 
 
 Other exhibitions, aided by the swell of music and 
 glare of tinsel, have allured men to grosser scenes in 
 which wrestlers strove ; or boxers parried ; or gladia 
 tors fought ; or bacchanalians rioted in drunken festi 
 vals ; or errant knights sought in the perilous shock 
 of lances the love of ladies; or steeds were gored by 
 Spanish bulls ; or painted players shocked by their con 
 tortions, or disgusted by their folly. 
 
 But this unstained by violence or blood; with no 
 act of shame or horror, to raise a blush or draw a tear 
 spreads forth a spectacle as picturesque as peaceful ; 
 teeming with the charms of beauty, intelligence and 
 taste ; with every thing which tempts the appetite ; 
 excites the gentle emotions, and kindles the fancy. 
 Where the banquet, the graces and the flowers combine. 
 Where agricultural ambition finds a proper impulse, 
 and ingenuity the recompense of reward ; where inter 
 course extends the sympathies, chastens the manners,
 
 ADDRESS. 231 
 
 improves the sense. Where observation gathers facts, 
 and suggests invention ; where local prejudices are worn 
 away, party animosities assuaged, and impositions ex 
 ploded. 
 
 County pride may gaze here with complacency on 
 the spoils of her bosom ; and even patriotism may be 
 gratified by a display, which bears pregnant proof of 
 a noble land, and equal laws. Encourage then, these 
 annual shows, which, like the world's great Crystal pal 
 aces, exhibit the triumphs of industry, the treasures of 
 the year, and the advancement of the people. 
 
 But such spectacles as this have the peculiar attrac 
 tion of the open country. We are away from the noisy 
 streets, and the red walls 
 
 " Uwcribbed, ttncabined, wconfined " 
 
 Where no floor supports, and no roof shelters amongst 
 the sources of what we celebrate enjoying the sweet 
 breath, the fair charms, and the pure oracles of nature. 
 Where else could we pursue that magnificent theology 
 which expresses itself in the panorama of the universe ; 
 in the ever present miracle of life and growth, and dis 
 solution ; in the ever changing kaleidoscope of the 
 seasons ; in the grand diapason of earth's ceaseless 
 music. 
 
 Here, every object is an altar to faith, and an inspi 
 ration to genius. Here, the pure affections have their 
 dearest exercise, and the superior faculties their most 
 exhilarating themes. Here, misfortune may obtain a 
 refuge ; weariness, repose ; and sorrow, a healing balm ; 
 the" weeping eye be cheered with visions; the broken
 
 232 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 heart with soothing voices. Here, youth learns the 
 first lesson of humility ; old age the last of resignation ; 
 scepticism repudiates the divinity of chance; passions 
 subside ; and virtues flourish. 
 
 Here, are the subjects of art and science the geolo 
 gist delves amongst the strata; the shepherd watches 
 the stars ; poetry holds up the magic mirror ; philoso 
 phy reads the open volume ; true eloquence learns its 
 rhetoric ; painting its outlines and colors ; music its 
 voluptuous tones; architecture its principles of con 
 struction, and sculpture its materials and models. 
 
 " God made the country, man made the town." 
 
 The Deity loves to " dwell in temples not built with 
 hands." On the lofty summit of his footstool he pro 
 claimed the written law. It was in a garden, that as 
 a friend, He walked with our frail parents. And the 
 Son in whom the Father is, taught most, along the 
 waysides of Galilee, on the coast of lake Tiberias, and 
 on the mount of Olives, the resurrection and the life to 
 come while the landscape answered like an echo the 
 wisdom of the teacher. 
 
 Man finds an elevating sense of freedom in the open 
 air. The soul feels unfettered, when no walls surround 
 and no ceiling covers devotions seem to rise to the 
 very gates of heaven the thoughts expand as if the 
 world attended the imagination wanders forth, exult 
 ing like an angel. 
 
 Thus ancient error often constructed his idol altars, 
 and burned his sacrificial victims on the hill tops ; and 
 left his temples without roofs. So justice was admin 
 istered at the outer gateway of eastern palaces. The
 
 ADDRESS. 233 
 
 famous Areopagites sat uncovered on the hill of Mars. 
 The populace heard their orators, and framed decrees in 
 the face of the ^gean winds. The Sophists taught 
 and disputed, as they strolled through the groves. 
 The historian and the bard contended for the laurel on 
 the plains of Elis. In the unsheltered Forum were 
 once made the laws of Rome. 
 
 Thus natural scenery is associated with the great 
 drama of the world, and the records of the race. And 
 towards it still, the human disposition, however occu 
 pied, fondly turns for occasional refreshment, or ulti 
 mate enjoyment. 
 
 The citizen oppressed by the unwholesome air of 
 sultry streets, hastens to the rural districts. The 
 lover, "sighing like a furnace," or weeping like a 
 shower, haunts the beech trees to carve his immedica 
 ble wounds and melancholy passion. The parson seeks 
 the exercise and recreation of the farm, to restore a 
 frame wasted by the zeal of his vigils and his weary 
 load of cares. And the physician, tired of arduous 
 duties and thankless errands through the cold, the 
 darkness and the tempest. And the mechanic, whose 
 cunning and industrious hand has spent its force on 
 works of usefulness and taste. And the merchant, 
 fatigued with the busy commerce which unites the na 
 tions, and the jarring interests and perplexing games 
 and ceaseless noises of the market. And the lawyer, 
 sick of selfish struggles, uncertain issues, and human 
 frailty obscuring truth and foiling justice. And the 
 sailor, shattered by the hardships of the ocean, and the 
 storms that howled their hoarse ^ZEolian strains through 
 the vessel's rigging. And the statesman, whose single
 
 234 MISCELLAMES. 
 
 genius saves the welfare of the state, and nobly wins, 
 but never wears the laurel on his brows. And the 
 soldier, forsaking his sanguinary honors ; and the 
 magistrate, his dictatorial powers, resort at last to the 
 simple labors of the plough. 
 
 What avocation then, shall be compared to his, which 
 brings him in continual communion with the works of 
 nature? Who, through the day and through the year, 
 goes forth with the sun ; toils with its hours, and slum 
 bers with the shadows. Whose senses are pleased by 
 such an endless variety of beauty ? Whose labor gives 
 more salutary vigor to the frame, or better feelings to 
 the heart ? Whose arm wins noble trophies in the 
 game of trade, of office, or of battle ? Whose soul has 
 sweeter contemplations in the visions of the morning, 
 or the dreams of night ? Whose life has a fairer mis 
 sion than the subjugation of the soil, attended with the 
 blessings of contentment and independence, the facili 
 ties of knowledge, and the persuasions of religion ? 
 
 An occupation so attractive is also the oldest and 
 most universal. Before society was formed, or king 
 doms rose, or tribes assembled ; before the fisher 
 angled, or the hunter trapped; before the ground was 
 cursed, it was farmed. God's first commandment was 
 to dress the garden. 
 
 The first of human toil was tillage, as it may be last. 
 Coeval with the race, it spread and descended through 
 all countries and all ages. Sometimes dormant, but 
 not entirely lost even amongst the savage hordes, it 
 ever has been, and must be forever, the great business 
 of the world. No less the support of individual life
 
 ADDRESS. 235 
 
 than social vigor, it has built the cities and organized 
 the nations. 
 
 Then cultivate the bounteous earth ; make the fields 
 glisten with the whitening harvest ; fill high the grana 
 ries with corn and behold! how the public welfare 
 prospers ! Victory follows, like a slave, the invincible 
 valor of your armies. Your navies sweep resistless over 
 all the oceans ; your commerce flaps her white wings 
 in every harbor ; trade fills the towns with the music 
 of a million wheels ; your senate speaks with the voice 
 of oracles ; grateful incense smokes upon your altars ; 
 happiness smiles upon your hearths, and glory, like a 
 halo, covers all the blessed land. 
 
 History wherever it has written, tradition wherever 
 it has spoken, show what agriculture has accomplished, 
 and how it has been honored. It has been the care of 
 great rulers, and the theme of gifted bards. The oldest 
 people of the East, and the strongest people of the 
 West made laws to foster and protect it. It is, to-day, 
 a study in European universities. It inspired " the 
 works and days " of Hesiod, and the Georgics of Vir 
 gil. Mago, the general of commercial Carthage, and 
 Cato, the censor of the Romans, wrote of it in many 
 books. 
 
 Ceres and Osiris were once worshiped as its deities. 
 But the ancient farmers, in their erring piety, paid 
 homage to a lower order of divinities. Every stage of 
 the sprout, every grass of the field, every leaf in the 
 forest, every stream in the vale, every sign in the 
 Zodiac, were peopled by inferior powers. Not a bud 
 bursted, nor a fruit ripened, nor a grain took root, nor 
 a water drop fell, nor a sunbeam warmed, nor a color
 
 236 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 gleamed, nor an odor exhaled, nor a zephyr blew, nor 
 a particle of soil was enriched, nor an animal was born, 
 without the care and permission of its peculiar god. 
 The plantation was a rural pantheon. Invocations 
 mingled with the daily task ; and festivals, with danc 
 ing and with shouting, closed the labors of the field. 
 
 We have corrected the theology, but may not have 
 excelled the crops of those who farmed the plains of 
 Mantua ; or the cattle which grazed near the Sabine 
 hills ; or the flocks of the Arcadian shepherds ; or the 
 horses of the Epirian shores. 
 
 Thousands of years ago, they burned the stubble, 
 sowed, harrowed, destroyed the tares, and raised their 
 stock nearly as we do now. They improved the quality 
 of grains ; acclimated foreign seeds ; accelerated or re 
 tarded germination by cropping the branches or boring 
 the bark ; compounded different growths ; knew those 
 whose affinities cause them to fade or flourish when 
 near together, as the rose becomes sweeter by the 
 garlic ; dwarfed, and altered the appearance, color and 
 produce of various plants. 
 
 But we have surpassed all before us, in lightening 
 the duties of the season, by transferring to machines 
 the drudgery of labor; in discovering new fertilizing 
 substances, and easy means for their transportation ; 
 and in scientific knowledge of the soil. And all these 
 advantages have been realized in the present century. 
 
 Fifty years ago, these neighboring grounds could 
 hardly support their tenants. The herds were driven 
 over distant tracts for pasture ; the grain fields were 
 vast, but poor. But the introduction of cloverseed, of
 
 ADDRESS. 237 
 
 lime, and other agents, doubled and trebled the pro 
 ductions of the soil. 
 
 Old implements, and old customs have been super 
 seded. The long wooden plough, the wooden harrow, 
 the sickle and the flail, are disappearing fast. The 
 reapers are not often seen, in animated contest, gather 
 ing the grain in their bosoms. The sound of lusty 
 threshers is rarely noticed beating time upon the hard 
 ened ground. The huskers' jolly party, of men and 
 damsels, are no more heard singing by the moonlight, 
 as they strip the yellow corn. The apple paring 
 matches, and the quilters' pleasant frolics, have ceased 
 to cheer the big old fire place with the jovial airs of the 
 fiddle, and the fantastic footsteps of the jig. The hand 
 looms have become almost peculiar to the prison ; and 
 the spinning wheel is seldom whirling its industrious 
 round. Few flax pullers ply now their merry task. 
 The water smeller, with his hazel twig, is no longer 
 called to locate the draw well. Not many now regard 
 the sign that sinks or soars, when they lay the worm, 
 or thatch the hay rick. 
 
 Gone are the days of the cocked hat, the buckled 
 small clothes, the ruffled wristbands, and the fair topt 
 boots. 
 
 But women, as odd as amiable, have, by their 
 basques, hoops and high heeled slippers, connected 
 those quaint old times with this stirring age of patent 
 washers and elliptic springs. 
 
 But while fashion is capricious, useful enterprise has 
 rapidly made an onward march. Nature has yielded 
 revelations. She is not now the riddle and monster 
 which past ignorance painted her; not now inscrutable,
 
 238 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 fearful, and, like the Sphinx with cruel lures, distract 
 ing all intruders. Science, like (Edipus, has invaded 
 her dominions and despoiled her of mystery and terror. 
 
 But the conquest is unfinished. The future doubt 
 less teems with untold blessings. We are but on the 
 threshold of that region of invention, which shall open 
 to us a new paradise ; renew the original glories of the 
 earth; disclose scenes transcending the voluptuous des 
 criptions of the poetic age of gold, and as brilliant and 
 ineffable, as the holy seers beheld in their prophetic 
 trances. Such an era is consistent with the philosophy 
 of civilization, and the logic of progress. 
 
 But a long and diligent probation must precede its 
 advent. Education and morals must advance hand in 
 hand. Inquiry and experiment must find new combi 
 nations of mechanical powers, new chemical affinities, 
 and new classifications of natural facts. We must ex 
 tend still further the range of the faculties and the 
 senses ; concentrate still more the conveniences and 
 attractions of life ; and give to each locality, genera 
 tion, and individual, the advantages of all. 
 
 The spirit of improvement which has accomplished 
 so much for other pursuits, must be directed more im 
 mediately to that which embraces and sustains them all. 
 That we may supersede still more muscular labor ; re 
 lieve still more the human hand ; dispense with the ser 
 vitude of bond and free ; apply to the fields all the in 
 fluences which facilitate intercourse, and the operations 
 of the factories and shops; and perfect the organization 
 of a class of workers, more potent and patient, more 
 servile and systematic than men or brutes.
 
 ADDRESS. 239 
 
 There is ample room and opportunity for ingenious 
 effort. With a soil of considerable strength and rich 
 ness, and a climate of average clemency, our agricul 
 tural appliances are but partially developed. Provision 
 must be made for the contingencies of seasons, and the 
 vicissitudes of weather. Something is required to save 
 the crops from prevalent diseases. Something is need 
 ed better than tar about the roots for blight ; or fumi 
 gation with sulphur, or whale soap wash, or steeping 
 the grain in plaster, for insects ; something better than 
 lime water for mildew ; or subsoiling for the drought ; 
 or raising from the seed to avoid the rot ; and something 
 to counteract the frost. 
 
 Machinery is insufficient. Some new power is want 
 ed, less dangerous but as efficient as steam, to move the 
 mower, the rake, the spreader, and the thresher ; to 
 drive the plough, the harrow and the drill combined ; 
 and something to husk the corn. 
 
 It is not improbable that some latent principle may 
 yet be detected which will give an impulse and direc 
 tion to husbandry it never had before. Which will take 
 the place of every fertilizing agent known ; obviate 
 the necessity of alternating crops ; condense the ele 
 ments of growth, and make the germ ripen with electric 
 speed that the sower may one day scatter abroad, and 
 the next day reap the harvest. 
 
 Or some process may be hereafter employed, which 
 will make our acres yield in more abundance and greater 
 variety, productions of which we have no example or 
 conception ; fruits, perhaps, sweeter than the peach ; 
 vegetables more excellent than the potato ; grain bet 
 ter than wheat or corn. Our soil may yet supply us
 
 240 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 with the modified luxuries of those warmer countries, 
 which have the genial influence of perennial summer ; 
 where the air is redolent with the blossoms of olive 
 orchards, and shimmers with the Hesperian hue of 
 orange groves ; where the cotton, fig, and banana flour 
 ish. 
 
 Advances already made strip such speculations of ex 
 travagance. The arid desert, and the impassable marsh, 
 have been made to bloom. The forest and the prairie 
 have furnished our domestic animals, fruits and plants. 
 Culture might still further increase the number of our 
 gratifications. The persimmon, the gum, the service 
 berry and the papaw might enrich the orchard ; flowers 
 still wild, would luxuriate in the garden ; trees from 
 the woods, planted by the roadsides, would vastly beau 
 tify the country. 
 
 Foreign esculents might be introduced with success. 
 The yam of China for its pleasant flavor and nutritious 
 properties ; doura for its easy management and various 
 uses ; sorgho sucre for its forage ; the bene plant for 
 its medicinal oils. While the sunny slopes of a thou 
 sand of our hills offer their swelling bosoms to the 
 generous vine. But start not at a vision of the Rosy 
 God, reeling with his thyrsus beneath celestial liquor, 
 and spreading about his steps the purple enemy of souls. 
 
 It is a true testimony, that wherever the vintage 
 pours its blushing current along the chalky hills of 
 rich Champagne ; from the tall cliffs and ruined castles 
 of the fighting bishops of the Rheingau ; from the old 
 Moorish mountains of Granada; through the voluptu 
 ous Italian vales ; from the classic islands of the Archi 
 pelago, and the holy places of "the morning land,"
 
 ADDRESS. 241 
 
 you will scarcely see an inebriate from the use of wine. 
 Yet the beverage is so common that it is used instead 
 of tea or coffee, and drank at every meal ; and so cheap, 
 that beggars quaff it down like water. 
 
 In France alone there are one millions of acres of 
 vineyards, producing one thousand million of gallons 
 of wine in a year. It is only the cold northern na 
 tions, with whom the tender grape does not flourish, 
 that are maddened by the fiercer distillations of the 
 apple and the grain. It is they who sing the drinker's 
 verse 
 
 " For baser tribes let rivers flow, 
 "Who know not rum or song, 
 Man wants but little here below, 
 But wants that little strong." 
 
 Whether or not the introduction of the wine press 
 here would be judicious, is a question some future day 
 may settle. And although in Ohio, the vineyards have 
 yielded quadruple the profits from wheat, they have not 
 yet found general favor with our husbandmen, who 
 cultivate one hundred millions of acres, and whose 
 annual productions reach sixteen hundred millions of 
 dollars. 
 
 But on them whatever the staples they prefer to 
 raise ; attached to the soil by interest and affection ; 
 supplying the granaries of the land; and keeping the 
 very gates of the national wealth a grave responsi 
 bility essentially reposes. With them is the last refuge 
 of civil rights and social virtue. When agitation per 
 vades the city, and men impelled by some pernicious 
 passion, forget their loyalty to order ; or when fanati 
 cism kindles the fagot, or swings the gibbet ; or foreign 
 
 21
 
 242 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 foes, or domestic treason, or corruption assail our insti 
 tutions ; when there is danger to the liberties, the laws, 
 or the moral sentiment of the country, it is to the con 
 servative force of the farmers we must look for hope 
 and succor. Their unbending strength, and faithful 
 patriotism must save the State from mischief ; and up 
 hold its wavering fortunes, as Hur and Aaron sustained 
 the failing arm of Moses. Then 
 
 " Ye generous Saxons ! venerate the plough, 
 And o'er your hills and long withdrawing vales, 
 Let autnmn spread his treasures to the sun, 
 Luxuriant and unbounded. 
 
 So with superior boon, may your rich soil, 
 Exuberant, nature's better blessings pour, 
 O'er every land, the naked nations clothe, 
 Anl be the exhaustless granary of a world."
 
 Venedig liegt nur noch im Land der Traume, 
 
 Und wirft nor Schatten heraus alten Tagen. Platen. 
 
 Venice is built on islands, which are subdivided by 
 canals, and reunited by a marvelous multitude of 
 bridges. Foot paths and the sea touch nearly every 
 door, and you may walk or sail all through the city. 
 
 The narrow winding^streets are shaded by the massy 
 walls of houses, and undisturbed by the noise and dust 
 of horse or carriage. The shops glitter with Venetian 
 glass and Oriental trinkets. The open squares have 
 draw wells, and water carriers and print mongers a 
 handsome church, a curious museum, or a garden of 
 plants. 
 
 But the magnificent piazza of St. Mark's concen 
 trates nearly all the attractions of the place. It is 
 an open area of several acres, paved with flag stones. 
 It is partly surrounded by a covered corridor, which 
 forms a brilliant arcade of stores and cafes, where mer 
 chants congregate, as they did once on the Rialto. On 
 one side flows the Grand Canal, in which large vessels 
 lie at anchor; and numerous gondolas, those sable 
 floating coaches, glide to and fro, driven by a single 
 oar. 
 
 Here is the Doge's palace, and its audience hall, and 
 council chamber, and library decorated with statues 
 and gilded carvings the Inquisitorial Apartment the 
 
 (243)
 
 244 MISCELLANIES 
 
 Bridge of Sighs which the victim passed over to his 
 doom the deep, dark Dungeons of stone and iron, 
 lined with oak and scribbled with dead men's names 
 the Great Staircase of the giants the Red Pillars of the 
 gibbet and near by, the Pedestal on which the bank 
 rupt was exposed to shame. Here are the trophy 
 columns from Acre and Stamboul ; and the three 
 Masts, emblematic of the conquered kingdoms of the 
 Republic. 
 
 Here is that remarkable cathedral of the patron 
 Saint, built of rare materials, with an imposing array 
 of spires, domes, arches and columns. It displays re 
 lievos from Persia and Palestine bronze figures from 
 the Archipelago gates from St. Sophia's spiral 
 shafts of alabaster, which, they say, once stood in 
 Solomon's temple. The facade and the interior blaze 
 with mosaics on a ground of gold. 
 
 Here the flags fly on Sundays, and the cannon fires 
 at sunset ; and the band fills the air with music, as hun 
 dreds, few citizens, many strangers, stroll up and down 
 amidst the glare of gas lights. 
 
 But for long years the city has not flourished. She 
 had been the mistress of the seas. Founded by exiles, 
 her position inspired her with independence and mari 
 time enterprise. Many a famous feat and battle are 
 written in her annals. She once ploughed all waves 
 with her victorious keels. She carried her commerce 
 and her cannon through the opulent East ; stretched 
 the sceptre of her Doges over distant isles ; and filled 
 her treasury with the tribute of vanquished states. 
 
 She was the seat of joy, and wealth, and art. She 
 reveled in Carnivals, and Masquerades ; she was a pro-
 
 VENICE. 245 
 
 verb for festivity. Her resources seemed exhaustless. 
 All lands supplied her markets ; Palladio planned her 
 structures ; Titian's pencil adorned her halls ; Tasso's 
 music floated on her waters. Her daughters were as 
 queens, her merchants monarchs. 
 
 Her fortune was long propitious, her future fair. 
 But she reached her political perihelion; her glory 
 waned, and she was soon no longer known amongst the 
 host of nations. And now she is no more free nor 
 great ; as much a subject as once a sovereign ; stoop 
 ing where she reigned; crushed as she once crushed 
 others ; suffering what she once inflicted ; drinking the 
 gall she gave her foes ; brooding over prestige lost, 
 trade declined, empty houses, deserted streets, grievous 
 taxes, foreign soldiers, disastrous struggles. 
 
 But her history is fixed. Her name remains. Her 
 palaces still stand. The Rialto spans the waters. The 
 Winged Lion still spreads his pinions from the column. 
 The Brazen Steeds are yet rampant on Saint Mark's. 
 The Adriatic still offers her yielding bosom to the 
 plighted Keel. Her rare scenery still endures. 
 
 And as we gaze on her various charms, we anticipate 
 her better fortune. As the lingering lustre of the 
 past plays around her horizon, we would fain believe 
 the beams of her setting sun to be the gathering splen 
 dors of a new day.
 
 GUIDES. 
 
 Guides in the old countries are often necessary to 
 strangers, generally useful, and always expensive. 
 Making allowance for the diversity of circumstances 
 and temperaments, the tendency of their occupation 
 gives them a uniformity of character, and one may be 
 taken as a representative of the class. 
 
 He has usually a pocket full of papers, recommend 
 ing him for qualities, in which he is apt to be deficient. 
 His birth place is no part of the consideration of his 
 engagement, but it is gratuitously referred to, as the 
 locality in which he is expected to serve. His parents 
 are often described, like those whose sons have their 
 obituaries in the Newgate Calendar. His merits are 
 hardly consistent, as the play-wrights say, with the 
 probabilities. 
 
 He professes proficiency in the modern languages ; 
 and something like the preceptor in Juvenal, has the 
 polyglot dictionary at the end of his nails. He is 
 familiar with the geography of streets and museums, 
 and marks out maps on his palms. He carries time 
 tables and hotel cards ; has the acquaintance of the 
 most reliable hackmen ; has tried the most docile don 
 keys ; and has sometimes a cousin who waits in the 
 palace. 
 
 (246)
 
 GUIDES. 247 
 
 He has a knowledge of prices, distances, and con 
 tingencies. He knows where the best staples are to 
 be had ; where the condiments have the finest flavor ; 
 segars the rarest aroma ; where the relics are genuine ; 
 and the amusements most inviting ; where you can see 
 the New York Herald and the London Times. 
 
 He knows what the man ought to have who makes 
 the echo in Killarney ; what is a sufficient buona mano 
 to the Tuscan coachman ; what is the conventional 
 gratuity for passing pictures through the Custom 
 House at Naples; what you must pay for a mummy's 
 ring in Egypt ; what is the discount on Austrian pa 
 per ; and the premium on a pound sterling in Syrian 
 piasters. 
 
 He knows by what gate the Emperor will leave the 
 palace ; when the Pasha is in the bath ; when the foun 
 tains will play at St. Cloud; when the pilgrims will 
 start for Mecca. He can tell how many may stand in 
 the nose of the statue of Bavaria ; how many steps to 
 the top of St. Paul's. He names the officers on re 
 views ; he points out the speakers in the chambers. 
 
 He is at no loss for explanations. He tells why the 
 Irish round towers were built; why the women wear 
 black silk on their heads in Malta ; why they often 
 wear but little else than veils in the East ; how you 
 can tell soup of horse shins by its redness ; and the 
 descendants of Mahomet by their green turbans. He 
 points out where a child was found blinded by vermin, 
 which were bandaged on its eyes, to make it an object 
 of charity. He points out the mendicant, who begs on 
 the Alameda, that his daughter, in silk and jewels, may
 
 248 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 ride on a mule ; the government spies, who sit in the 
 cafes ; the Sheik robber, who is related to the Governor. 
 
 He has also been employed by men of note. He 
 showed Washington Irving through the Alhambra. 
 He was with the American expedition to the Dead 
 Sea. He was with Lepsius when he lived amongst 
 the reptiles and ruins of Karnak. He stood next to 
 Louis Napoleon when he was special constable during 
 the Chartist riots. He served Lamartine in Florence, 
 and remembers that he commenced his studies before 
 daylight. 
 
 He has always items of gossip. He says the Queen 
 tore a button from her dress, and called Parliament a 
 shabby set, for not appropriating more money for 
 Prince Albert ; that the Viceroy at Cairo makes no se 
 cret of drinking the blood of the grape, in defiance of 
 the Koran ; that the husband of the Spanish Queen is 
 rather stupid, and of little importance, and that she 
 herself is not as good as an angel ; that the Duke of 
 Baden compelled one of his courtiers to smoke some 
 bad domestic segars, in order to encourage their manu 
 facture ; that King Otho's wife abhors England, and 
 turned her back on English travelers as they passed 
 her and that his physician is so absent minded that 
 he called one night on himself, and being told that he 
 was out, slept at a hotel ; that the late King of Prussia 
 injured himself by "fast living;" that the late Abdul 
 Medjid could not control the extravagance of his wo 
 men ; that in Munich, at her house with the gilded 
 balcony, old King Louis visited Lola Monies. 
 
 Thus he appears to teem with information. He is, 
 therefore, voluble, and didactic ; sees everything in
 
 GUIDES. 249 
 
 the light of an exhibition ; and, like a showman, al 
 ways wants an audience. Worldly in all his views, he 
 is liberal with regard to sects ; has no cavils on doc 
 trinal points ; usually conceals his prejudices ; yields 
 to circumstance ; and declines or performs a ceremony 
 with equal apathy. Sometimes for effect he sneers at 
 the Greek images ; laughs slyly at the picturesque 
 figure of the bowing devotee ; shrugs his shoulders as 
 the priest goes by in his gloomy gown. 
 
 His morals depend on occasions ; and, unlike Shaks- 
 peare's Angelo, he thinks it the same thing to be tempt 
 ed, and to fall. He is bibulous, and rather courts than 
 shuns "the invisible spirit of wine." He has an ac 
 cumulative disposition ; conspires, like some govern 
 ment contractors, with every one, against his em 
 ployer ; takes a surreptitious percentage on all the 
 bargains which he makes for him ; leads him about as 
 if he owned him ; excites his suspicions against the 
 roguery of others, in order to conceal his own; con 
 stantly discredits the veracity of his own people, while 
 he himself, like the Classic thieves, dedicates his tongue 
 to the God of liars. 
 
 He avoids as much as possible all inconvenient duties ; 
 practices very little self-denial ; expects regular wages ; 
 extra allowances at times ; and when he leaves, valua 
 ble presents, and an unqualified testimonial to his vir 
 tues. 
 
 Such is the guide. After he is tired of his occupa 
 tion, or has acquired by it all that it will yield him, he 
 resorts to a settled life. He generally becomes a hotel 
 keeper, and soon grows rich, respectable and oracu 
 lar.
 
 VIENNA. 
 
 We had a cold journey over the Brenner, the lowest 
 of Alpine passes. We traveled the Tyrol, along valleys 
 walled in by hills, wooded and cleared ; by ravines deep 
 and narrow, in which battles have been fought with 
 rocks and bullets ; over table lands dotted with cedar 
 houses, which are at once both barns and dwellings, ac 
 commodating families and cattle. Women in short 
 petticoats, red as their faces, and men in black buck 
 skin breeches with bright buttons, toiled side by side in 
 the fields ; or harnessed with dogs and donkeys, dragged 
 little carts. 
 
 We steamed down the Danube, whose banks some 
 times spreading out into plains, are covered with villages; 
 sometimes swell up into mountain cliffs, on which cas 
 tles hang like eagles' nests. Here is a convent or 
 chapel, famous for pilgrimages there, the extensive 
 chateau of a King or Count there, the classic temple of 
 Valhalla, filled with the busts of celebrated men. 
 
 We passed rafts of timber furlongs in extent canal 
 boats with towing horses by the score whirlpools rush 
 ing with a noise like thunder beautiful plantations and 
 modern forts, and stopped at last in the Capital of the 
 Austrian Caesars. : : ; 
 
 The old Vienna, now the smallest portion of the city, 
 is seated like an island, amongst the suburbs, surround- 
 
 (250)
 
 VIENNA. 251 
 
 ed by walls and trenches, and is entered on every side 
 by bridges. It has fine old palaces, and numerous 
 squares with fountains, statues, trees and pleasant 
 walks. 
 
 The houses are all stuccoed, high and large, with 
 families on different floors, and one sometimes contains 
 the population of a village. By the great arched gate 
 ways, the porter with tinseled cap and shoulders, and a 
 stick like a music major's, tells the visitor how many 
 stairs to clinfb, and what bell to pull, to find his friend. 
 Aristocracy is in the inverse proportion to the height of 
 the occupant ; and respectability declines as you ascend. 
 
 The streets narrow and roughly paved, diverge like 
 rays from a central point. The sidewalks are almost 
 imaginary. Drivers regard no division lines ; and one 
 is in constant proximity to carriages and horses, much 
 to the peril of the short sighted, the absent minded 
 and the hard of hearing. The gayest windows are 
 stored with porcelain tobacco bowls and amber segar 
 tubes ; while all the shops are designated, not by 
 owners' names, but by signs like taverns. You buy 
 gloves at the "Golden Star," linen at the "Green 
 Tree," coats of the last fancy at the " Silver Button," 
 and patent hats at the "Lion's Head." 
 
 Museums and galleries abound. There are the starred 
 green velvet robes, and the crown, with false stones, 
 which Napoleon wore at Milan. The crown of Charle 
 magne with uncut jewels ; and his Dalmatian shoes. 
 The largest Opal, and the largest Cameo known. The 
 ivory hilted sword of Tamerlane, and the silver gilt 
 cradle of the King of Rome. A specimen of the gold of 
 an Alchemist. Heavy meteoric fragments, some with
 
 252 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 dark sides, smooth as glass. The crimson standard of 
 the besieging Turks. The stone battle axe captured 
 from Montezuma by Cortez. Titian's " Ecce Homo." 
 Reuben's "Jesuit casting out the devils." The "Holy 
 Trinity" by Durer. "Teniers' Marriage of the Peasants." 
 "The Helen" of Canova. "The Adonis" of Thorwaldsen. 
 The curious parchment map of the Roman Empire in 
 the fourth century. The Jerusalem delivered, written 
 and interlined by Tasso's own hand. 
 
 There are various hospitals, gardens, and parade 
 grounds. The royal remains are distributed amongst the 
 churches the heart in one, the entrails in another, anp 
 the body in a third. 
 
 The Sabbath is a day of sport ; and though some 
 might be seen in the morning counting their beads at 
 St. Stephen's ; and some counting out change in their 
 stores ; yet by noon, the last prayer and the last penny 
 have been made. The bells ring gaily ; the organ 
 grinders pull away at every corner ; the bands play at 
 the barracks ; and there is music everywhere. 
 
 The walls are covered with attractive placards. There 
 is a new actress a new concert a strange show. 
 A foreigner plays in French tragedy. Strauss' company 
 perform in the saloon at Sperls. A ball is open at 
 Volksgarten. Fire-works are to be exhibited in the 
 Prater. A constant holiday crowd is flowing towards 
 the gates, the Glacis and the Bastions. 
 
 Nearly every one is affable and courteous. The men 
 are continually lifting their hats in salutations. They 
 uncover when they enter a shop ; kiss when they are 
 glad to see one another ; wish their friends a good ap-
 
 VIENNA. 253 
 
 petite when they eat ; good luck when they sneeze, and 
 a good voyage when they travel. 
 
 They are generally economical, ride mostly in third- 
 class cars, and the forepart of steamboats. They 
 breakfast in their bed-room on bread and black coffee ; 
 dine by the card at noon ; and sup voraciously on sau 
 sages at twilight. They drink more beer than the 
 English ; and smoke more than Americans. 
 
 The Emperor, when I saw him some years ago, had 
 the air of an innocent boy ; his face showed neither in 
 telligence nor beard. He walked in the evening along 
 the promenade of his country seat while the music and 
 the fountains played familiarly amongst his children, as 
 he called his subjects, puffing a segar with juvenile ve 
 hemence. 
 
 His cabinet then was partly composed of men who had 
 risen from the barricades, and become hostile to the 
 very measures which placed them in power. The revo 
 lution of 1848, therefore, did not accomplish what it 
 promised. 
 
 But it gave some freedom to the press. It opened the 
 courts to the public. It gave criminals the right to a 
 jury trial. It allowed a Legislature to be elected by an 
 almost universal suffrage. These privileges have doubt 
 less, been since qualified, and some of them withdrawn. 
 
 Even then the city wore the complexion of a camp. 
 Cannon frowned in the open places. Bayonets gleamed 
 at every turn. Swords rattled over the paving stones. 
 The Judges presided in military dress. The palace was 
 like a General's quarters in time of war. The extremi 
 ties of the Empire were in a still more unsettled condi 
 tion. 
 
 22
 
 254 MISCELLANIES 
 
 Since then, a disastrous foreign campaign has cut off 
 a large portion of territory. Another internal revolu 
 tion might overthrow a throne, still trembling from the 
 shocks of the last.
 
 BALLOONS. 
 
 The navigation of the air has been the puzzle of ages. 
 Men have attempted it by infinite methods, but with 
 only partial success. We read of Daedalus, soaring away 
 in his fabulous flight from Crete, on his waxed wings of 
 the Wooden Pigeon of Archytas, made to float as was 
 thought, by magic of the Eagle constructed at Nurem 
 berg, which flew out and saluted Charles the Fifth of 
 Roger Bacons' proposition to sail a globe with liquid 
 fire of Bishop Wilkins' plan to keep artificial wings in 
 motion by a mainspring like that of a watch of the con 
 trivance of Francis Lana, to ascend by copper vessels 
 exhausted of air of De Gusman's machine with its 
 hollow tubes, its bellows, its magnets and amber 
 and of others who lost their fortunes, their senses and 
 their lives in fruitless efforts to fly like birds. 
 
 At last we find the Montgolfiers, less than a century 
 ago, making the first balloon ; and sending the fearless 
 voyagers to the clouds by means of air heated by burning 
 straw. Then soon afterwards, we hear of ascensions by 
 hydrogen gas, for military and scientific objects ; for 
 amusement, and for livelihood. Latterly it has been 
 quite common to see on Sundays, several of these aerial 
 sailors floating over Paris. 
 
 While dining one afternoon in a restaurant, I was in 
 terrupted by the tramp and noise of persons running 
 
 (255)
 
 256 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 from all directions, down the Rue de la Paix. Expect 
 ing a fire, or a revolution, I hastened out, and saw two 
 balloons nearly overhead, stiM at a great height, and 
 one of them falling with fearful rapidity. Down it came, 
 faster and nearer now drifting horizontally in a cur 
 rent then suddenly sinking. Once it appeared to drop 
 like lead for a distance, then its descent for a time, was 
 retarded. As it came lower, three persons were dis 
 covered in the car. Soon they were seen throwing out 
 promiscuous articles. Cloaks, boots, shawls, hand 
 kerchiefs, hats, collars and a bonnet came tumbling 
 and circling to the ground. Though somewhat checked 
 they bore directly down against a church steeple. An 
 appalling catastrophe seemed inevitable. The slightest 
 contact must be fatal. The merest interference with 
 the netting or the car, would disturb their equilibrium, 
 and dash them to pieces. As the collision became im 
 minent, and the intervening distance could be measured 
 by yards and by seconds, the excitement below grew 
 intense. Along the streets, and on the roofs of houses, 
 men were frantic with emotion. But all were powerless; 
 no advice could instruct, no courage or humanity could 
 afford relief. The machine now careened within a 
 handbreadth of the cupola. The next vibration must 
 cause it to strike. People gasped for breath some 
 glanced another way to avoid the sight some grew 
 sick and swooned some threw up their hands in a vain 
 oifer to save some dropped their arms in despair all 
 were pale and dumb with terror. When just as the 
 shock and crash of death were expected, a puff of wind 
 made, perhaps, by the balloon's own motion, caused it 
 to veer off it swung gently away down by the chim-
 
 BALLOONS. 257 
 
 ney stacks and cornices and its living freight were 
 saved. The crowd smiled with joy. The landing was 
 made. A lady bareheaded, and two gentlemen in shirt 
 sleeves and without hats or hose, still wearing the 
 ghastly expression of their escape and danger, were soon 
 overwhelmed with congratulations. 
 
 Having refreshed themselves in a cafe, two of them 
 re-mounted the car, rose again rapidly ; and relieved by 
 their re-ascension, as was afterwards related, the anx 
 iety of the father of one of them, who was in the other 
 balloon. 
 
 Various novelties are sometimes introduced in these 
 exhibitions to increase their attractions. Induced by a 
 large handbill posted about Vienna, I followed the living 
 stream that poured into the Prater, to witness a man 
 go up on horseback. 
 
 It excited extraordinary curiosity. The wide field 
 was covered with spectators. Mounted policemen, courte 
 ous and vigilant, were riding in all directions. Coaches 
 garnished with heraldry moved along the avenues. 
 Pretty women were strolling in full dress under the 
 chestnut trees. Showmen were displaying their numer 
 ous wares and tricks at every turn. Hucksters were 
 everywhere offering cakes, and fruit and beverage. All 
 the men appeared to smoke either cigars, cigarettes or 
 pipes. 
 
 The balloon with a zodiac painted on it, soon filled 
 and began to rise. First was seen the man's head, 
 which was a source of incipient satisfaction ; and as he gra 
 dually appeared with the horse beneath him, sumptuously 
 caparisoned, the admiration became boisterous ; and 
 a great shout greeted the gallant cavalier. Buthe neither
 
 258 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 bowed, nor moved a limb, nor spake a word, nor gave a 
 sign of recognition. The horse's ears kept erect ; his 
 tail stood straight and permanent. A low murmur of 
 surprise succeeded ; then came an inquisitive pause ; an 
 instant's suspicion and there was a simultaneous per 
 ception of the hoax. Twenty thousand people, as if 
 they thought their credulity deserved deception, broke 
 forth into a universal laugh so loud and prolonged, 
 that the air seemed shaking with merriment as the 
 irresponsible wooden aeronauts sailed ludicrously away 
 towards the stars. 
 
 It was on the Champ de Mars, of Paris, whence in 
 1780, the first hydrogen balloon went up, that I once 
 saw a spectacle, which was unique even in that city of 
 shows. 
 
 The population, from the rag-pickers to Napoleon, 
 gathered there to behold the ascension of a chariot and 
 horses. A wide circuit was formed, and inclosed by 
 ropes to prevent intrusion. Bands of music enlivened 
 the interval of preparation. Infantry, cavalry and 
 uniformed police threw a military lustre over the scene. 
 The balloon itself made of red, white and blue, repre 
 sented the national colors. As it swelled out into its 
 enormous globular dimensions, it seemed like a miniature 
 planet about to be launched on its orbit. 
 
 Mr. Poitevin, his wife, and servant seated in an open 
 four wheeled vehicle, drove the two ponies around the 
 ring, amidst bravos and applause. This display showed 
 that there was no imposition intended, and that there 
 would be no interference by the Government. It had 
 been said, that as the elevation of the animals would
 
 BALLOONS. 259 
 
 injure them, and cause the blood to gush from their 
 nostrils, so cruel an experiment would not be allowed. 
 
 In the meantime, several small balloons were sent up 
 in advance ; some in the shape of men, painted in gaudy 
 colors, and which retaining their upright position, went 
 dancing over the city like real harlequins. 
 
 Presently, the long circuit having been made, the 
 aeronauts drove towards the great balloon the horses 
 halted drew back reared and with some difficulty 
 were attached to the netting, by straps placed under 
 their bodies, and the bed of the wagon. 
 
 At the word at a tap of the drum with a stroke of 
 the whip and a bound of the horses, who vainly at 
 tempted to strike the ground they suddenly rose as if 
 at a gallop, amidst the applauding clamor of tongues 
 and trumpets. But the poor beasts, as they saw the 
 earth sinking beneath, hung their heads and tails in hope 
 less humility. For a long-time the unscattered multitude 
 gazed steadfastly and wonderingly at them, as they 
 ascended above house tops above steeples and towers 
 above the flight of birds. They drifted for a while, 
 eastwardly, and then soared up till they diminished to 
 half their bulk till their outlines grew indistinct till 
 horses, wagon and aeronauts faded into a point till 
 they disappeared beyond the reach of tubes and glasses. 
 
 The next morning the journals announced their safe 
 descent and return to Paris. Afterwards I saw the 
 same party make a successful ascent from the same 
 place on three horses, one being elevated above the 
 others, in a sort of pyramidal group. A feat which 
 seemed to rival that of the enchanted steed of Walpole.
 
 BERLIN. 
 
 Berlin is in the midst of a sandy plain, through 
 which flows the Spree, an insignificant stream, called, 
 by courtesy, a river. The streets well paved, well 
 cleaned, wide and straight ; brick houses stuccoed, 
 uniform in style and color ; numerous public buildings 
 of architectural merit ; some pleasant promenades ; a 
 beautiful fountain, and several national works of art 
 adorning the gates, the bridges and the squares, give 
 the city rather a magnificent appearance. 
 
 There is any amount of amusement for the idle, and 
 every advantage for the studious. There is an elegant 
 Opera house, where Toechteck was the prima donna ; 
 and Taglioni danced in the ballets and a theatre, 
 where authors sometimes played in their own comedies ; 
 and Meyerbeer lead the orchestra in his own music. 
 
 The museum has its outside frescoed by Cornelius, 
 with a representation of the dawn and progress of the 
 world. The first day, born amidst the smile of Hope 
 and the songs of Angels ; then the sports of shepherds ; 
 the reign of the Muses ; the inauguration of Labor ; the 
 glory of Law. Within the building are pictures of all 
 schools some new, some rare such as the famous 
 piece of Leda and the Swan ; and lo and the Cloud, 
 once partially injured under a fastidious notion of pro 
 priety. 
 
 (260)
 
 BERLIN. 201 
 
 The attic of the Palace is full of curious relics the 
 tall mug from which Luther drank his beer ; the cocked 
 hat Napoleon wore at Waterloo ; the canes and linen 
 of Frederick the Great; the spangled uniform and 
 stockings of Murat ; the model windmill which the 
 Czar Peter built in Holland. 
 
 The arsenal contains weapons of all eras, from the 
 leathern cannon of Gustavus to the last invented gun 
 and bullet. You may ride thence in a premium dros- 
 key, and draw, perhaps, a lottery prize ; see sentinels 
 presenting arms to an officer almost out of sight ; and 
 truck wagons hauled by curs, who run howling to the 
 market, an open place without roof or stalls. 
 
 In an eating house you may have soup of apples, or 
 of ale ; drink beer in a wine cellar, noisy with the rat 
 tle of dominoes, and dark with tobacco smoke. 
 
 The widest street in Europe is here, planted with 
 lindens through the centre ; crowded with fashionable 
 folks at noon ; and until the watchmen whistle the 
 hours at night, shining with windows full of iron trin 
 kets and Dresden china. The Thiergarten is laid out 
 in sandy walks amongst beech and cedar trees ; where 
 cripples play hand organs ; and ladies with lap dogs, 
 and officers off duty, lounge along the alleys. 
 
 An entertaining establishment, called Krolls, since 
 burnt, was fancifully arranged with grottos ; mossy 
 rocks and gushing water-falls ; sylph-like figures float 
 ing in the air ; lamps glittering amongst lilies, and 
 music which seemed to issue from the clouds. Near 
 by, is a little lake, which, when frozen over, was daily 
 ringing with the merry sound of skaters boys and
 
 262 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 girls, old men and dames, went whirling and wheeling 
 as if their heels were winged like Mercury's. 
 
 The churches are chiefly Protestant, but not heated 
 in winter ; and you may sit, and shiver, and listen 
 there to noted theologian doctors, who are paid by the 
 State ; or, perhaps, see an ancient couple celebrating 
 the golden marriage, by renewing the vows which 
 they first made fifty years before. 
 
 The University has usually fifteen hundred students, 
 who are allowed to smoke in the lecture rooms ; and 
 are called in their first year, foxes ; in the second, 
 lions ; and in the last, asses. 
 
 While there, several years ago, I saw Humboldt at a 
 society meeting ; every one rose as he entered. He 
 wore a dark suit and a white cravat. His expression 
 was benevolent, as became one whose life had been de 
 voted to the improvement of mankind. His head was 
 large, and his forehead broad and high, as his genius 
 was comprehensive and original. His keen, bright 
 eyes, were such as one could fancy, had surveyed near 
 ly all the visible globe. His white hair hung, like a 
 silver crown, around his temples. The prestige of his 
 learning, greater than Pliny's ; and of his travels, 
 more extensive than Plato's ; and his imposing ap 
 pearance, made one regard him with a sort of wonder, 
 as the representative of a scientific century, and a 
 great oracle of nature. 
 
 There also was Bncke, who had give his name to a 
 comet, engaged amongst lenses and logarithms ; with 
 his right eye larger than the left,*owing, perhaps, to 
 his ocular labors. There was Schelling, the head of a 
 numerous school in metaphysics ; Ranke and Raumer,
 
 BERLIN. 263 
 
 the historians, both men of small stature. Heffter, 
 Gneist and Keller, doctors of law ; Dove, professor of 
 physics ; Muller, of anatomy ; Lepsius, of antiquities ; 
 and Hitter, the geographer, who was very old and 
 dressed in black stocking and knee breeches. 
 
 The funeral of Link, the botanist, was followed by 
 the royal coaches. 
 
 The courts of justice had no rules of special plead 
 ing, and few books of reports. The Judges decided 
 facts in civil cases ; determined the law without re 
 gard to precedents ; and the majority of a criminal 
 jury could render a verdict. The two chambers of the 
 Legislature were elected by restricted suffrage, under 
 the constitution of 1848, which was so loosely or 
 adroitly worded, that it did not prevent oppression. 
 
 Personal liberty was guaranteed but in a time of 
 peace, one could hardly move without permission of 
 the police. The dwelling was inviolable but under 
 a pretext of public safety, every house was open to 
 officials. The press was free but a word against the 
 administration was punished by banishment. Speech 
 was free but the people could not assemble in the open 
 air for political discussion. The ministry was responsi 
 ble but it met an accusation by a dissolution of the 
 chambers. 
 
 The King was amiable, fond of his wife, of literature 
 and champagne but he repented of the concessions 
 forced upon him in 1848, and was anxious to recover 
 his lost prerogatives. The Government tried every 
 means to bring back the system which the revolution 
 had partly destroyed. Thus they lost confidence at
 
 264 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 home *, and afterwards, the respect of Europe, by their 
 external policy. 
 
 The affairs of the Electorate of Hesse and of the 
 Duchy of Holstein offered a fair opportunity to 
 Prussia of becoming the defender of constitutional 
 ideas. The sympathy of the world was with her, as 
 she seemed to be preparing to oppose the oppressive 
 interference of Austria, instigated by the Russian 
 Czar. 
 
 She summoned her subjects, and they forgot the 
 broken pledges and delayed reforms, and responded 
 with enthusiasm. Old men had not seen the like. The 
 whole nation became an 'army. From the fields, the 
 shops and the lecture rooms, came the farmers, the 
 tradesmen, and the students. Pamphlets were written 
 on the ambitious designs of the enemy. The news 
 papers teemed with articles about Frederick the Great 
 and the Fatherland. Ancient glory and ancient sacri 
 fices were recalled. Striplings were reminded of those 
 who bore the national eagles at Leipzig ; and girls of 
 their grandmothers, who had exchanged their jewelry 
 for iron. Horses were taken from cabs and wagons 
 to mount the cavalry. Tailors and women sewed day 
 and night amongst brass buttons and blue cloth. The 
 streets echoed with the continual rattle of artillery 
 trains and kettle drums. The crown Prince reviewed 
 the troops as they passed. The King harangued them 
 on horseback. 
 
 There were parting scenes at the stations mothers 
 went to wring the hands of sons young wives to weep 
 at sudden separations servant girls to exchange fare 
 well-winks with corporals.
 
 BERLIN. 265 
 
 But all this proved to be a vain parade, a mere blus 
 ter, which signally failed of its purpose. The court of 
 St. Petersburgh prevailed without a blow ; its influence 
 urged the Prussians out of the Electorate, and sent an 
 Austrian army into the Duchies. Foreign powers 
 smiled at the ridiculous conclusion of this bravado ; 
 but every honest Prussian blushed for his country. 
 
 23
 
 A VISIT TO A GEEMAN BARON. 
 
 One winter morning, as I was taking the usual Con 
 tinental breakfast of biscuit and coffee, in the gayest 
 cafe in Berlin, a middle aged, respectable looking gen 
 tleman came in, and sat near me. Perceiving that I 
 read Galignani, a newspaper, printed at Paris, in Eng 
 lish, and found in the principal coffee houses of Europe, 
 he accosted me in that language. 
 
 He spoke intelligently of the topics of the day ; the 
 threatened war with Austria ; the discipline of the 
 Prussian troops, who had been marching for weeks 
 through the streets ; and the chief objects of interest 
 in the city. When he discovered that I was from the 
 United States, he became more cordial, and terminated 
 the interview with an offer of friendship and hospitality. 
 Giving me his address, he civilly invited me to his 
 house. By his card, it appeared that he was Baron 
 S., formerly an officer in the military service. 
 
 A week later, strolling along amidst a brilliant crowd 
 of vehicles and pedestrians, in the Thier Garten, the 
 fashionable promenade of the Prussian capital, I found 
 myself opposite the residence of my titled friend. It 
 was a handsome house, very high, and gave an impres 
 sion of wealth and importance. The front door bell 
 was rung without success. A wood" chopper, in a side 
 
 (266)
 
 A VISIT TO A GERMAN BARON. 267 
 
 alley, beckoned me to a back gate. I rang there, and 
 a seedy servant directed me to ascend the stairway. 
 
 I journeyed up for five or six stories every one of 
 which was occupied by a family until the Baron's door 
 was reached, on the last flight of steps. It seem 
 ed as if I had climbed a mountain or a monument ; and 
 with some feeling of triumph, I stood upon the summit. 
 Here, thought I, the Baron has some enchanting pros 
 pect which repays him for the toil of the ascent ; or, 
 perhaps, some eccentric humor which sees enjoyment 
 in an inconvenience ; or, perhaps, some malady which 
 the exertion of climbing alleviates ; or, perhaps, he is 
 self-denying and mortifies the flesh for penance ; or, 
 perhaps, he rents his more convenient rooms below for 
 the purpose of increasing his charitable funds. 
 
 Indulging such thoughts and though his printed 
 card was nailed on the door I still expected to be 
 dazzled by the costly appointments usually associated 
 with rank. I was not unprepared for a display of 
 liveried servants, tapestried walls, velvet floors and 
 luxurious seats. A young boy between a peascod 
 and blossom, as Shakspeare says in shirt sleeves and 
 second-hand trowsers, both of which seemed spotted 
 with dye stuff", admitted me into an uncarpeted parlor. 
 
 This shabby fellow, and the desolate appearance of the 
 room, rather chilled my imagination. A piano, which 
 seemed to be the relic of better days, stood alone in a 
 dingy corner. A stove no larger than a man's hat, 
 and used for cooking, had on it an earthen coffee pot, 
 with a broken handle. The only chair had no back, 
 which, after the warmest salutation, the Baron politely 
 tendered to me, while he inclined against the window sill.
 
 268 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 We had a desultory conversation about the news and 
 his son, ten years of age, whose warlike disposition threat 
 ened my pantaloons with a tin sword ; and which seem 
 ed to assure his father that he was destined for the 
 navy. Nothing could be inferred from what he said, 
 that he was in any way embarrassed ; or that his pre 
 sent circumstances exhibited anything unusual. He 
 regretted, unnecessarily, as the sequel proved, the ab 
 sence of his lady, whose proficiency in music would 
 have afforded an agreeable entertainment. 
 
 Suddenly a loud voice was heard at the door, and 
 the desired lady entered at a bound. She was younger 
 than her husband ; with indifferent features ; and rather 
 carelessly attired in rusty garments. With eyes glis 
 tening like a panther's, she assailed the Baron with a 
 volley of German. He deprecated her abruptness, and 
 pointed imploringly towards me. But excited beyond 
 control, she raged like a Fury, and made alarming 
 gesticulations. The poor man at last exasperated, re 
 turned her abuse ; and a universal hubbub filled the 
 hospitable mansion. 
 
 The difficulty arose from the Baron's selling some 
 mattresses, and keeping the money. I made a posi 
 tive move to depart the great lady observed me then 
 for the first time ; and with much courtesy requested 
 me, as did also the Baron, to remain for dinner. Not 
 being assured of a very long truce between the parties ; 
 nor tempted by the prospect of a luxurious repast, I 
 thanked them kindly, and made a lively retreat. Ru 
 minating, as I descended, on the happiness of high life 
 above stairs, and the mysteries of German aristocracy.
 
 HOLLAND. 
 
 There are but few countries which are more interest 
 ing than Holland. The sea has been driven from its 
 bed to aiford sites for cities, and fields for harvests. 
 The tide is higher than the land, and the surf beats over 
 the housetops. It requires constant labor to avoid dis 
 aster. All the hills are appropriated for dikes. Fire 
 and winds are employed against the water. Banks 
 composed of sand, straw, and twigs, and planted with 
 grass and willows, form the roads, and fix limits to 
 the ocean. Pumps, which are worked by sails or steam, 
 bail out the leakage, and expose new soil. The country 
 is intersected by canal and ditches. 
 
 The Hollander finds water wherever he turns the 
 first object in the morning the last at night. Its 
 vapors float over his head its percolations form the bog 
 at his feet. Its prevalence assails all his senses he 
 hears its roar beyond the dikes he sees it around him 
 in currents or in ponds he smells its impurities at all 
 hours. It pervades his cities, and his meadows. 
 
 It obviates, in a great measure the necessity of fences, 
 roads, and forts. It divides his possessions from his 
 neighbors protects his property from trespass defends 
 his country from invasion. It supplies him with food 
 for his table a staple article for export and facilities 
 for transportation, travel, and amusement. In winter, 
 
 (269)
 
 270 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 on sleds and skates, he slides and glides upon its sur 
 face. He builds his summer house over the pool, to 
 while away the sultry hours, amidst the croaking of 
 frogs, the gambols of terrapin and the fumes of his pipe. 
 
 He sometimes makes a boat his home, and has a 
 garden, cultivates vegetables, pigs, poultry, and child 
 ren, amongst oars, ropes and canvas. The wharf streets 
 are crowded with wharehouses, full of fish cured for com 
 merce. It seems as if nearly every man is a sailor. 
 The people indulge themselves in a holiday when the 
 fishing smacks weigh anchor. Parties were once desig 
 nated by the names of Hooks and Codfish. One of 
 their greatest benefactors was Beukel, who discovered 
 the method of pickling herring. Another was Roblas, 
 who contrived the method of constructing permanent 
 dikes. Another is asserted to have invented canal 
 locks. 
 
 One of their best admirals was a fisherman. One of 
 their best strategists inaugurated the policy of turning 
 the sea through sluices against an enemy. It was the 
 flood which delivered their beleaguered cities, when star 
 vation and the Spaniards assailed them. It was their 
 fleet which ravaged the coast, and humbled the flag of 
 England. It was to save their ship from capture, that 
 Van Speyk destroyed it, with himself and crew. It 
 was by a bark of armed men concealed under fuel, that 
 a Dutch Captain recovered Breda. 
 
 Thus the element, which invests Holland, is associated 
 with its interest and its glory, with its history, with its 
 hopes. It is at once the source of prosperity and danger. 
 It is prominent in every description and caricature of 
 travelers. It provokes the jest of wits, and the sneers
 
 HOLLAND. 271 
 
 of the splenetic. They have called the country the 
 paradise of ducks and lizards "a land that rides at 
 anchor" where the people are amphibious where the 
 women are descended from mermaids, and the men once 
 wore fins. 
 
 But plentiful as is that fluid, it is in most places un 
 palatable, and one might say with the ancient Mariner : 
 
 "Water, water everywhere, 
 Nor any drop to drink." 
 
 They are often obliged to transport it from distant 
 springs. They conduct into reservoirs all the rain that 
 falls. 
 
 The facilities for washing, are however, so extensive, 
 that scrubbing seems to be as much of a pastime as a 
 duty. Cleanliness of a certain sort, is a national vir 
 tue. The floors are as white as lime, upon which, often, 
 as upon those of a mosque, none but barefeet are allowed 
 to tread. Yet frequently, the stable adjoins the dwell 
 ing, and the cow and the family enjoy the shelter of the 
 same roof. 
 
 Politeness is very general. Peasants raise their hats 
 to strangers yet, nearly every man wears his hat in 
 church, and burns his tobacco in the cars and the sta 
 tions, though a notice in four languages forbids smoking. 
 
 Their customs are curious and permanent. As with 
 the ancients, ivy leaves marked a wine shop : and Lu- 
 cian's lawyer, to allure the clients, decked his gate with 
 with twigs of palm : so badges are common here. Lace is 
 fastened on the door when a child is born, and prevents 
 the entrance of a bailiff. A basket of evergreens over 
 a shop announces the arrival of fresh herring in 
 the spring. A bulletin hanging from the knocker
 
 272 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 states the condition of an invalid, and saves him from 
 intrusion. Images of turbaned Moors indicate the 
 drug stores. Men dressed in black with cocked hats 
 and wigs, knee breeches and stockings, are employed to 
 announce a death, and attend a funeral. The stage 
 drivers blow their horns at every village. The watch 
 men, with the prudence of Dogberry, give notice of their 
 approach by striking the pavement with an iron staff. 
 
 The women look handsome and wholesome ruddy 
 with blood and health. They adorn their heads with 
 caps, and bands of brass or gold. They carry with 
 them wherever they go, a small basin of hot coals for 
 their feet. They are not, however, entirely devoted to 
 display. They hold the plough in the field. They 
 haul the boat in the canal. They drag the truck to 
 market, in the traces with a dog. They are sometimes 
 obliged to hire their sweethearts for a festival. 
 
 The poor of both sexes wear wooden shoes. The 
 houses are built of bricks or frame, and covered with 
 tiles or thatch. They are sometimes very high ; their 
 gables face the street ; and because of their yielding 
 foundations generally lean a foot or more from the per 
 pendicular. Storks live on the chimney tops; and 
 some of them are maintained by the Government. 
 
 The steeples are as sharp as spears. The clocks 
 chime the hours. The sidewalks are formed of brick 
 laid edgwise. Mirrors are arranged outside of every 
 window to reflect within the transactions of the street. 
 The wheelbarrows have no legs. Coaches are seen on 
 runners instead of wheels. The wagons are long, low 
 and narrow, without tongues, and the driver guides 
 them with his foot upon the pole. The traces are
 
 HOLLAND. 273 
 
 made of ropes. The ploughs have a prop to hold them 
 steady. The clods are mashed with a shovel, not with 
 rollers. 
 
 The cows in winter have their tails tied up. They 
 paint the trunks of certain trees; and carve arches 
 through the branches ; and train the plants into curi 
 ous shapes. They burn peat for fuel ; they drink gin 
 and beer for a beverage ; and are almost the only Eu 
 ropeans who chew tobacco. 
 
 They encourage music but their most common in 
 struments are those which are filled by the bellows, or 
 played by a crank. They are fond of those huge organ 
 pipes, whose roar seems like thunder evolved in tunes 
 and of those vagrants with portable boxes, who 
 huckster music on the highways. They have no 
 singing boatmen like Venice. You do not hear 
 Tasso's echoes on the water. 
 
 There seem to be but few fine specimens of archi 
 tecture. Marble columns are not so numerous as the 
 masts of vessels. The landscape displays more wind 
 mills than palaces. The museums, amongst other 
 things, have curiosities from Japan and the ocean 
 delicate straw work, and pens of hair to write on sand 
 and mermaids formed of female skeletons and fishes 
 tails. Galleries, teeming with pictures of hay fields, 
 cattle, game and shipping, illustrate the practical 
 genius of the people. 
 
 They are industrious. Trade is universal ; and each 
 town is distinguished for some particular branch of 
 business. Deventer is devoted to the baking of ginger 
 cakes, and the process is regulated by law. Gonda is 
 famous for those tobacco pipes which seem to contri-
 
 274 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 bute so much to the phlegm and happiness of Dutch 
 men. Alkmaar is the chief depot for cheese, which is 
 made round as cannon balls, and piled, like them, in 
 pyramids upon the ground. Schiedam is the seat of 
 those distilleries, whose aromatic schnapps give a 
 charm to foreign drug shops. 
 
 Delft is the headquarters of the potteries. Haarlem 
 is the market of flowers ; where once the tulip mania 
 raged, which afterwards infected Goldsmith, and re 
 duced his fortunes to a shirt. Amsterdam is noted for 
 cutting diamonds, and taking discount ; and formerly 
 sustained the armies, and controlled the currency of 
 Europe. Rotterdam has had almost exclusive trafiic 
 with the Japanese ; who so lately have, for the first 
 time, traveled by railroad and read by gas light. Ley- 
 den, Gronigen, and Utrecht, have honored universities. 
 The Hague holds the palace and the court. 
 
 All Dutch towns are delightfully shaded by trees. 
 All have credit for their charitable institutions. Their 
 patriots once assumed the name of beggars. Many of 
 them have endured seiges as famous as those of Nu- 
 mantia or Genoa. Many of them are connected with 
 illustrious names with such statesmen as De Witt 
 with such scholars as Erasmus with philosophers such 
 as Grotius with heroes like the Tromps with painters 
 like Rembrandt with poets like Vondel with Huy- 
 ghens, who invented the pendulum clock with Coster, 
 who carved types on blocks before Guttemberg, of 
 Mayence with Beiling, who, a prisoner on parol, 
 imitated the scrupulous honor of Regulus in his volun 
 tary return to be buried in the ground alive.
 
 THE RHINE. 
 
 For several weeks we were on the banks, or on the 
 bosom of the Rhine. It was a cheerless season. The 
 rough signs of winter still prevailed. There were the 
 wild winds ; the cloudy skies ; the chilling showers, 
 and the strong red current of the swollen river. 
 
 But the grander features of the country were con 
 spicuous ; and heights, chasms and crags were not con 
 cealed by the luxuriant screens of summer. The ground 
 was desolate and dark, except here and there a speck 
 of green, or an early flower peeped through the brush, 
 like eyes through eastern veils. The last year's leaves 
 hung like rags upon the naked oaks ; and the plaintive 
 notes of some stray birds disturbed the silence of the 
 forests. 
 
 A variety of scenery, history and legends, gives pe 
 culiar interest to these shores. Without the moun 
 tainous banks of the Elbe ; or the massy antiquities 
 of the Nile ; or the vast commerce of the Thames, 
 there are yet mingled, in some degree, the attractions 
 of them all. 
 
 There are populous plains, with their ploughed fields 
 and leafless orchards ; and monuments to heroes and to 
 victories. There are the white walls of cities, with free 
 ports and impregnable bulwarks ; the seats of trade and 
 learning ; on the sites of Roman camps roads the le- 
 
 (275)
 
 276 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 gions made ; where some generals received the imperial 
 purple; and some centurions were buried; and some 
 benefactors born ; where Diets were held, which filled 
 and emptied thrones, and changed religious creeds. 
 
 There are volcanic heaps thrown up in antediluvian 
 times, in all irregular masses, inclining and abrupt 
 abounding in useful minerals and medicinal waters, and 
 pierced by ravines, through which rush tributary streams. 
 
 There are ancient structures, in ruins or restored ; 
 castles with towers, polygonal and round, crushed or 
 crumbling, black with the marks of sieges and the 
 mold of years. 
 
 There, robber chiefs defied the Burghers ; warrior 
 Bishops levied tolls ; Electors applied the torture ; the 
 Kaisers had a palace ; Dwarfs made mirth ; Troubadors 
 made music ; and captive Kings were held in prison ; 
 and gallant Knights went forth in armour, against in 
 fidels and monsters, in the cause of beauty and the 
 Cross, to rescue women and Jerusalem. 
 
 There, are the white cloistered fronts of Convents, 
 built for monks or maids ; to which distinguished Re 
 formers, or high born ladies, fled from shame or danger ; 
 and which are now often used as magazines, or hospit 
 als, for invalids or wines. 
 
 There, are chapels of all styles tall Italian towers ; 
 old Saxon arches ; grand Gothic choirs ; steeples shaped 
 like bells, or spears, or pears, built of trachyte, bricks 
 and sandstone. 
 
 There, martyrs suffered ; miracles were witnessed ; 
 pilgrims traveled ; Templars worshiped ; emperors were 
 crowned.
 
 THE RHINE. 277 
 
 There, is a monastery, ruined by a law suit ; one fill 
 ed with virgin's bones ; and one holds the body of an 
 envied ministrel, borne thither by fair damsels, whose 
 hearts his songs had won. 
 
 On the sunny sides and summits, amongst cliffs and 
 crevices, on artificial terraces, covered with made soil, 
 stuck like peas, hang the vineyards of the Rheingau 
 the Bacchanalian gardens the source of those 
 voluptuous liquors, which inspire more than love or 
 landscapes. 
 
 There, are the places to which tradition has assigned 
 facts and fables where dragons were slain, and unseen 
 spirits wander ; houses which they say the devil curi 
 ously built ; and fearful ladders, which he dug in the 
 stone, to climb the precipice ; the Seven Rocks, once 
 seven cruel sisters, who would not wed, and whose bod 
 ies became as stony as their hearts; where perished the 
 Baron's daughter,, like Jeptha's, the victim of a vow ; 
 where the Brothers slew each other, made foes and lov 
 ers by one woman's smile ; where the Royal hermit 
 wasted hours and hopes, watching the windows of his 
 monastic mistress ; where the treacherous nymph, with 
 the Syren's echo, allured the sailors to the whirlpool 
 and the rocks ; where the vermin devoured the wicked 
 Priest, who betrayed the poor ; where Constantine be 
 held the cheering vision of the Cross in heaven ; and 
 where Caesar traversed the river on his ingenious 
 bridge, against the fair-haired Germans. 
 
 Then, there are little vallies, with villages surround 
 ed by crazy ramparts, equally dangerous to friend and 
 foe ; and quaint old gateways, with loopholes for the 
 arrows, and the warders ; and odd shaped houses built 
 
 24
 
 278 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 of brick, in wooden frames, whose opposite stories pro 
 ject till they almost meet, making the streets resemble 
 tunnels. 
 
 In these close towns, and not in solitary cottages, the 
 peasants live, for safety and from custom. They possess 
 small tracts of land, often mortgaged to every grain of 
 dust and blade of corn ; which yet makes them freer 
 than their ancestors, who rather belonged to the soil, 
 than owned it. 
 
 The young girls, called madchens, with red round 
 cheeks, and parrot toes, and sky blue eyes and stock 
 ings, were toiling amongst the vines ; or on the way to 
 market, or to mass ; with baskets, or white muslin or 
 silver caps upon their head ; and silver daggers in their 
 hair. 
 
 And thus, as we passed along this famous stream, by 
 puffing steamboats, and through floating bridges, these 
 various objects, by the way, recalled the dramatic scenes 
 of history. 
 
 We beheld in fancy, Druids and Augurs encouraging 
 hostile nations Battles waged with javelins and arrows 
 The triumphant progress of disciplined invaders 
 The avenging victories of Barbarian hordes The donw- 
 fal of a colossal empire The fanatical march of the 
 Crusades the romantic incidents of Chivalry The sub 
 tle discussions of the Schoolmen Guttemberg exhibit 
 ing his wooden types Luther before the Imperial diet 
 The expiring struggle of Feudalism And, at last, 
 the blooming glories of the new civilization burst upon 
 the sense.
 
 THE RHINE. 279 
 
 So, in the storied waters of the Rhine, one may read, 
 as in some magic stereoscope, the great successive steps 
 of human progress.
 
 "PARLA." 
 
 Donatella to the Statue. 
 
 A distinguished public officer, and a few of his 
 friends, wished Col. J., while on his Northern tour, to 
 visit their Borough. 
 
 The officer and a large suite accompanied the Col. to 
 the town of N., where the former had requested Mr. M., 
 then a student, to meet them. 
 
 M.'s mission was not clearly defined. 
 
 However, on the appointed day, a two-horse coach 
 and driver were ready for him ; and as the autumn sun 
 glistened on the white frost and the crimson forest 
 and the robins were circling round, preparatory to their 
 annual flight and the fox hounds were filling the land 
 with their exciting cry he was driven rapidly towards 
 his destination. 
 
 Along the route, he speculated about the character 
 of his office. He was not going for the mere purpose 
 of taking the vehicle across the country, for that the 
 driver could have done without him. He was not a 
 messenger, for he carried nothing. He was not a com 
 mittee, for he represented no assembly,' public or pri 
 vate. He was not a delegate, for he had no instruc 
 tions, expressed or implied. He concluded, therefore, 
 that he was only a favored guest. 
 
 (280)
 
 A MAIDEN SPEECH. 281 
 
 In a few hours, the wheels rested before the desig 
 nated Inn. It was crowded by a variety of people 
 irrepressible boys irresponsible men votaries of wine 
 and war, a few of whom seemed affectedly polite and 
 mirthful ; while the smoke and spittle of tobacco, the 
 vapors of grog and powder, the flash of swords and 
 glasses, and the noise of kettle drums, cannon and 
 huzzahs, gave an anniversary aspect to the scene. 
 
 " Here he comes," said several voices as the coach 
 door opened. "Here he comes" was passed from 
 mouth to mouth, through the bar-room, up stairs, and 
 down into the kitchen, and echoed back again, followed 
 by a rush of people towards the new arrival, as, in a 
 long, black cloak, he mounted the steps of the porch. 
 
 The officer, referred to, welcomed him with both hands. 
 At his military voice the living sea, of soldiers and 
 loafers, parted before the advancing procession of two 
 persons abreast. 
 
 Having crossed the threshold, the officer spirited him 
 behind a door. In a low tone he told him that he must 
 rest a few minutes, and afterwards make a short speech 
 to the Col. Then, as he hurried away, he warned him 
 with an impressive motion of his finger, not to be agi 
 tated ! 
 
 In spite of this concluding advice, and strenuous 
 efforts to comply with it, M. was rather nervous. The 
 time to be " wise and amazed," to be composed and in 
 spired, seemed inadequate for the purpose. f 
 
 The circumstances were sudden, the occasion novel, 
 the audience large, and the opportunity for making a 
 debut, so fair, that he was bewildered by conflicting im 
 pulses. He was unprovided with those general topics
 
 282 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 which the old rhetoricians advised for emergencies ; 
 and he was ignorant of that artificial stimulant which 
 a subsequent authority recommended for the dumb. A 
 rabble of thoughts in all disorderly associations passed 
 through his mind. 
 
 His laboring imagination at last took a homeward 
 flight. His subject loomed up in fair proportions. 
 His ideas began to take shape and color. He beheld 
 afar the ancient Borough arrayed in unusual attrac 
 tions. It seemed like a town of temples and trees, of 
 colonnades and domes, of spacious ways and wander 
 ing walks where men wooed the arts, and surveyed the 
 the planets, and tried the earth in crucibles where 
 emblematic colors, stirring music, persuasive tongues, 
 and women's tears sanctified the patriotic aspirations 
 of the living, and the heroic memories of the dead. 
 
 While he was enjoying this pleasant vision, and 
 dreaming of rare applause and blushing honors, the 
 officer returned. His growing confidence began to 
 abate on his being immediately urged into a thronged 
 room. At one end of it, in a dazzling red vest, sur 
 rounded by men with swords and feathers, stood the 
 venerable dignitary he was expected to address. 
 
 But the Col.'s presence was not imposing. His 
 figure was what is called square ; and his features, 
 without being unpleasant, were rugged and care worn. 
 
 As M. approached him, he raised his open hand, as 
 if about .to salute, or embrace him, while at the same 
 time he said to the officer: "Ah! this is the young 
 gentleman of whom you spoke so kindly." 
 
 This was an embarrassing compliment ; as it seemed 
 to make it doubtful whether the Col. anticipated any-
 
 A MAIDEN SPEECH. 283 
 
 thing but an introduction. It induced M. to advance 
 too near for a speech, and yet not close enough to shake 
 hands. 
 
 A pause ensued as painful as the lover's before he 
 proposes; as the duellist's before he fires; as the cul 
 prit's before he swings. 
 
 The drums ceased the guns were silent the cheers 
 were withheld the audience, after the usual prepa 
 ratory buzz, became still they listened they looked. 
 Yet they did not manifest the pious composure of a con 
 gregation ; nor the restless anxiety of a stump meeting ; 
 nor the stoic indifference of a jury. 
 
 But they showed an earnest, patient curiosity, as if 
 they yearned to hear, and expected to be pleased " as 
 if they supposed that all speakers commenced with dif 
 ficulty as if the hesitation only increased their confi 
 dence in his powers as if they imputed it to the fervor 
 of his emotions, or the affluence of his thoughts as if 
 they were whispering " Look ! he is winding up the 
 watch of his wit, by and by it will strike !" 
 
 As the delay was prolonged, some raised themselves 
 on chairs, to overlook those in front. Some put their 
 hands to their ears, lest a syllable should escape. 
 Some unconsciously opened their mouths, as if they 
 would inhale the articulate breath. 
 
 Thus they waited with all the senses vigilant. But 
 still no accents fell, no periods flowed. 
 
 The unfortunate proximity of the student to the Col.; 
 the marked attention; the universal gaze dismayed 
 him. He distrusted his ability to satisfy the expecta 
 tion. He feared to take the responsibility of disap 
 pointing it. His mind vacillated. His thoughts wan-
 
 284 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 dered. His visions faded. Forsaken of all the inspi 
 rations ; abandoned by every extempore god he for 
 got his subject forgot his errand lost his conscious 
 ness lost his A r oice his own breath seemed to choke 
 him he could not utter a word he could not open 
 his lips his eyes drooped his feet shuffled his hands 
 twitched he was eloquent only with pallor and per 
 spiration he was oratorical only in his tremor he 
 represented nothing so well as silence. 
 
 Before he could recover, the officer alluded to, restive 
 and despairing, adroitly assumed his place, and per 
 formed his task. And while some smiled, and some 
 wondered at the failure a few naively called it a 
 maiden speech !
 
 LOUIS NAPOLEON. 
 
 Passing one day an entrance of the Palais de 1'Elysee, 
 the gates suddenly flew open, the two sentinels present 
 ed arms, a few people waiting there, fell back, and 
 Louis Napoleon, the President of France, with an Aid 
 by his side, and two liveried servants behind, drove 
 through, in a light open wagon. He then halted for a 
 moment to receive the numerous petitions which were 
 offered to him. I saw him afterwards, as he got out 
 of a plain carriage and went up to the American read 
 ing room, on the Boulevard. And again, on horsback, 
 with a star on his breast, wearing a frock coat and 
 cocked hat, in the midst of a brilliant group of officers 
 of various nations, going to the Champ de Mars, to 
 review the sham fight of twenty thousand soldiers on a 
 side, arranged to honor the visit of the Lord Mayor 
 and Aldermen of London. 
 
 He was rather below the ordinary height; his nose 
 prominent; his eyelashes long; his glance steady, but 
 downward, like the first Napoleon's ; his moustache 
 heavy and dark, shading his mouth. His face was im 
 pressive calm, passionless, thoughtful and inscruta 
 ble ; neither repelling by pride, nor attracting by sym 
 pathy; betokening a genius not to be seduced or daunted, 
 but leaving it in doubt whether his instincts were good 
 or evil. 
 
 (285)
 
 286 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 His career shows how persistently he pursued a great 
 object how implicitly he relied upon his fortune. His 
 birth in a palace celebrated by the peal of cannon 
 his childhood associated with historical spectacles 
 bearing a name synonomous with military glory in 
 heriting pretensions favored by popular affection and 
 tradition, his chief ideas and emotions were of crowns 
 and armies. 
 
 Disappointment only instructed his ambition. The 
 bitter ridicule, the personal perils and hardships with 
 which inopportune efforts oppressed him, gave him pa 
 tience and discretion. In all circumstances, as a stu 
 dent or adventurer, as soldier or constable, in sympathy 
 with the aristocracies or the masses, amongst the Car 
 bonari of Italy or against the Chartists in London, an 
 exile in America, a citizen in the free canton of Thur- 
 gau, capitally arraigned before the tribunal of France, 
 suffering the penal solitude of the dungeon of Ham, 
 persecuted, punished, or feasted, he never doubted or 
 despaired of his imperial destiny. 
 
 It was his study, his dream, his faith. It filled his 
 imagination and sustained his spirit. It inspired the 
 ingenious books which he wrote, the eloquent speeches 
 which he delivered, his reticent deportment which 
 baffled speculation, and made him a hero even to his 
 familiars. It caused him to be indifferent to danger, 
 and forbearing of provocation. It gave him that equa 
 nimity which neither the grenade of the assassin, the 
 fire of battle, the flattery of parasites, nor the scorn 
 or applause of multitudes could move. It accounts for 
 his rashness and his prudence, his inconsistencies and 
 his success.
 
 LOUIS NAPOLEON. 287 
 
 If he was moderate or audacious if he complained 
 of suspicions or verified them if he lauded free insti 
 tutions in his progress through the provinces, and 
 silenced the press and the tribune if he arrested gen 
 erals, and employed the army against the barricades of 
 St. Antoine if he dissolved the National Assembly, 
 and appealed to universal suffrage, it was under the 
 impulse of that feeling which, he said, made power 
 essential to his existence. 
 
 Having attained the throne, he sought at once to 
 justify his mission. He gave a spur to civil enterprise 
 infused energy into every branch of industry offer 
 ed prizes to ingenuity in the arts and sciences covered 
 the land with railways and machines opened magnifi 
 cent avenues through the cities relaxed the rigor of 
 restraining laws distributed his purse amongst the 
 the sufferers from inundations invoked popular patri 
 otism to sustain his treasury by voluntary loans im 
 proved the efficiency of his artillery and ships with 
 new weapons and new armor perfected harbors and 
 bulwarks on the coast won laurels and territory in his 
 campaigns and established a personal prestige and 
 influence rivaling his uncle's, greater than any living 
 ruler's. 
 
 His conduct has become a constant subject of discus 
 sion and apprehension. A journey across the channel, 
 a letter to an aid-de-camp, a sentence in the Moniteur 
 a quasi official pamphlet, or an abrupt remark to an 
 ambassador and the stocks depreciate in the market, 
 and the din of hostile preparation echoes over the Con 
 tinent.
 
 288 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 England, hitherto the haughtiest enemy of his house, 
 does not move without his concurrence. Russia, with 
 all her gigantic strength, still endeavors to avoid giving 
 him offence. Germany beholds in him a continual 
 menace. Italy would fain hail him as a deliverer. 
 The Pope leans reluctantly on his support. The Sul 
 tan gladly dispenses with his aid in Syria. Spain 
 humbly plays the role he assigns her. Mexico abhors, 
 but unaided, may not decline his Grecian present of a 
 king. The American Republic, in her trials, impa 
 tiently endures his marked disregard of her traditional 
 jealousy of European interference on the western con 
 tinent. All recognize his importance none compre 
 hend the breadth of his designs. 
 
 Powerful in resources, cautious in his means, abiding 
 his time, keeping his counsels, a fatalist in feeling, pro 
 found in policy, systematic in combination, resolute 
 and rapid in execution he appears the most imposing 
 figure of the age. And as he stands, in his mysterious 
 attitude, on the borders of a transitionary civilization, 
 affecting, it is said, some of the symbols of the ancient 
 Caesars, imbued with the Napoleonic notion of the con 
 federacy of nations, and the consolidation of crowns 
 one is disposed to believe that his full proportions are 
 not yet developed that he has not yet reached his his 
 torical maturity that he may yet be a signal actor in 
 the great apocalyptic drama of the world.
 
 THE CRYSTAL PALACE IN LONDON. 
 
 The press, the criers, the people, wending their way 
 towards Hyde Park, gave notice of the last week of 
 the great exhibition. 
 
 The edifice was wonderful ! so rare, so light, so 
 strong, so large, so brilliant in its contents, so sudden 
 in its rise, so soon to vanish! 
 
 Men had read of nothing like it in prose, or verse. 
 It was all of glass or iron columns, balusters, walls 
 and roof. It covered eighteen acres of land ; and old 
 forest trees waved their green tops beneath its transpa 
 rent arches. It stood unshaken by the fury of summer 
 storms, and the undulating weight of moving masser. 
 Individual genius, royal influence, and national enter 
 prise had furnished it with all the curiosities they could 
 discover or contrive. A year before, children had 
 gathered violets on its unbroken sward ; and a year 
 thereafter, they played on the vacant spot, where it 
 had held a world in minature. 
 
 On the day before its final close, one hundred and 
 twelve thousand souls, from all regions, spread along 
 its aisles, transepts and galleries. No disorder, no 
 ribaldry, no petulance occurred. Good humor and 
 good will prevailed. But an incident disturbed, for a 
 
 while, the monotonous calm. 
 
 (289) 25
 
 290 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 Several policemen were observed surrounding a per 
 son. Others hurried towards them, to ascertain the 
 cause. The mass increased, and became impenetrable. 
 The cry of "pickpocket" was raised and repeated. 
 It aggravated the excitement. Hundreds, actuated 
 by the common curiosity to see shame or crime, pushed 
 forward. 
 
 The thousand usual incoherent questions and answers 
 were passed. The arrest became the temporary topic 
 of conversation. The police were praised for their 
 dexterity, their usefulness, their importance. The 
 English felt proud of this very public example of their 
 vigilance. 
 
 Some related how the thief was caught. That he 
 was an old convict the officers knew him saw him 
 enter one of them, in plain clothes, watched him 
 lounged carelessly in his way, tempted, and entrapped 
 him. Every body was gratified at the result, for every 
 body rejoices at retribution. 
 
 In the meanwhile a space was cleared in front of 
 the individual who was the object of these remarks. 
 He was an old man, dressed in a blue tight body coat ; 
 and his head drooped on his breast. A murmur of 
 surprise instantly broke forth, as those near discovered 
 that the police, instead of restraining an offender, were 
 merely protecting from the pressure, no less a person 
 than the Duke of Wellington. 
 
 The scene became somewhat grand, as the fact was 
 made known ; and as that heroic brow bowed, not in 
 confusion, but with years and honors, and in courteous 
 recognition of the cosmopolitan applause which greeted 
 him. It seemed as if the representatives of all lands,
 
 THE CRYSTAL PALACE. 291 
 
 and the huzzahs of all languages united, to pay the 
 personal tribute of the age to one of its most illustri 
 ous characters. 
 
 On the next day, a less, but more select crowd enter 
 ed the building, to take a farewell view of an exhibition, 
 which had had no precedent ; and which might never 
 be repeated. 
 
 Some loitered around the cornices, the capitals, the 
 the statues, the pictures, to admire how art had caught, 
 as it were, the formative skill of nature, and forged her 
 loveliest lines and richest colors. 
 
 Some looked over those personal articles of dress 
 and toilet, whose materials grow on the back of brutes, 
 and on the breast of birds ; which the worm spins, and 
 the flowers distil ; which crystalize in the mine, and 
 bloom on the savannas. 
 
 Some examined those successful arrangements of 
 mechanical powers, which tend to diminish physical 
 labor ; and prepare society for a more intellectual de 
 velopment. 
 
 Some glanced at those fearful instruments of destruc 
 tion, which seemed as if they would drive Mars, him 
 self, in terror, from the field. 
 
 Some stood where the fountains spouted, through 
 tubes, and over urns, of glass, to enjoy their refresh 
 ing spray, their murmuring fall, their changing tints. 
 
 Some gathered near the flowers, to behold the curi 
 ous growth of that royal leaf, which inspired the archi 
 tectural design of the great structure itself. 
 
 Some were entertained by the diversity of languages 
 by the softness of those of classic origin; by the
 
 292 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 sonorous Teutonic accents ; by the guttural sounds of 
 Orientals. 
 
 Some amused themselves with noting the numerous 
 costumes the flowing robes, the pointed caps, the 
 plaited kilts, the lace, and tinsel. 
 
 Some studied the facial angles, the formal beards, the 
 figures, and the manner of different races. 
 
 Some listened with delight to the gentle tones of 
 musical instruments, as now and then, a cunning hand 
 swept their harmonious chords. 
 
 Some admired the contrasted styles of living beauty 
 the blushing fulness of Rubens the delicate grace 
 of Correggio the fascinating sadness of Guido the 
 passionate brightness of Titian the heavenly inno 
 cence of Raphael. 
 
 Some passed along chatting of business or of news, 
 seemingly unconscious of the vast show they had come 
 to visit. 
 
 Some resting on the sofas, which were here and there 
 distributed, regarded the spectacle as significant of the 
 approaching fraternization of sects and tribes as the 
 emblem of that promised period in which guilt and 
 pain shall flee away, and peace assumes her universal 
 crown 
 
 Ac toto surget gens aurea mundo !" 
 
 
 
 But as the appointed hour drew nigh, other consid 
 erations yielded to the interest of the closing scene. 
 The swaying heads, the tramping feet, the busy conver 
 sation ceased. Every eye was directed towards the 
 transept galleries. The four corners were filled with 
 choristers. Musicians were posted near with their
 
 THE CRYSTAL PALACE. 293 
 
 instruments. The vast assembly stood up. The men 
 took off their hats. The eager faces and subdued 
 breathing, showed deep emotion. Then burst forth that 
 noblest psalm of praise. A hundred singers led ; a 
 score of organs accompanied ; forty thousand voices 
 swelled the chorus. The mighty concert pealed along 
 the crystal walls resounded above the clangor of the 
 city the heavens, till then overcast, as if in sympathy, 
 began to clear the slanting sun-beams flashed far and 
 high upon the breaking clouds and the soaring splen 
 dors of the bow of peace responded to the doxology of 
 nations.
 
 OLIVER GOLDSMITH, 
 
 How charmingly Goldsmith wrote ! whether of fact 
 or of fiction, in poetry or prose ! Whether he described 
 a planet or a people, the peculiarities of genius, or the 
 habits of a brute, the vicissitudes of life, or the features 
 of a landscape ! 
 
 He gathered contributions from science, and gave 
 new interest to the phenomena of nature. He threw 
 an attractive light down the fading aisles of the past, 
 and over the wrecks of systems, customs and creeds. 
 Delighted we climb with him the highest Alps, and see 
 amongst the hundred realms below how appropriately 
 all places and all people have been blessed. We wander 
 with him over the desolate site of lovliest Auburn, to 
 behold how the aristocracies of rank and fortune ab 
 sorbed the privileges, and invaded the happiness of the 
 poor ; or around the shrubbery of the Vicar's cottage, 
 to mark how constant virtue triumphs over adventitious 
 ills ; or through the great city, to enjoy the diversions 
 of the drama, the streets, or the club. 
 
 His compositions are remarkable for purity of lan 
 guage, and apposite imagery, for ingenious reflections, 
 soothing pathos, and unfailing humor. He has nothing 
 obscure, affected, puerile or pernicious ; yet he has both 
 energy, and ornament. There is a tenderness in the 
 melody of his verse ; a pleasing cadence in his prose ;
 
 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 295 
 
 a sort of fascination in his descriptions ; a fine philoso 
 phy in his sentiments. A spirit of benevolence chastens 
 his style, warms his praise, softens his censure, and 
 sheds a glow of moral beauty over all his productions. 
 
 His imagination, gay rather than brilliant, represents 
 the humbler walks of society, familiar scenes, and sen 
 sible objects ; employs no ideal agencies, and appeals 
 to the gentler emotions. 
 
 His fictions are crowded with agreeable pictures and 
 lessons. Extravagant incidents and characters are 
 almost overshadowed by the propriety of other parts, 
 or half redeemed by some special merit of their own. 
 We enjoy the marvelous delusions in one piece we 
 sympathise with the wholesale misery in another nor 
 are we displeased by the rare instances of improbable 
 disguises, incompatible duties, and unaccountable mo 
 tives. They occasion the introduction of an elegant 
 metaphor, a fine period, or a facetious point ; or exhibit 
 an amiable passion ; or impress a wholesome truth. 
 And while most of his men and women are fairly drawn, 
 a favorable feature pervades the worst. His knaves, not 
 always incorrigible, are apt to repent, or be useful ; and 
 his dupes, hardly ever desperate, affect us by their in 
 nocence : the first may excite our compassion the lat 
 ter elicit our fondness. 
 
 His humor is conspicuous in recounting mistakes, and 
 social offences. He finds in defeated vanity, in un 
 founded pretensions, in confiding ignorance, in whimsi 
 cal acts, and absurd fashions, those harmless incongrui 
 ties which surprise us into mirth. 
 
 Hence his ridicule though keen, is not of the bitter 
 sort; his shafts are pointed but not poisoned. He
 
 296 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 rarely plays upon words, or violates the canons of good 
 taste. He is therefore not a punster like Hook ; nor 
 cynical like Swift ; nor indelicate like Rabelais ; nor 
 profane like Voltaire. Yet he sounds with skill all the 
 strains of pleasantry. Sometimes with the gentlest 
 touch of Lamb ; sometimes with the graceful ease of Ad- 
 dison ; sometimes with the bolder strokes of Cervantes. 
 
 How ludicrous appears the confusion of his strolling, 
 player, when the callous crowd reflect the disdainful 
 silence of the London critic ; and the dismay of the 
 fond mother, when the overrated Moses unpacks his 
 illusive bargains ; and the family procession, with their 
 unwilling steeds and unwitnessed finery, too tardy for 
 parade or prayers ; and the artful Jenkins, with his 
 charitable face, beguiling the "glorious pillar of un 
 shaken orthodoxy" of his wall eyed horse. 
 
 How well he entertains us with the story of the veni 
 son, with the masterly analysis of his literary friends, 
 with the unthinking generosity of Honeywood; the 
 overreaching cleverness of Constance ; the mischievous 
 ignorance of Tony; the abounding hospitality of 
 Hardcastle ; the unconscious impudence of Marlow ; 
 the racy gossip of Dame Quickly 's ghost ; the foppish 
 swagger of Beau Tibbs. 
 
 And he constantly pours forth a felicitous current of 
 droll expressions and ideas, which move the cheerful 
 feelings, relax the muscles, make the eyes twinkle, 
 wreathe the face with smiles, or shake the sides with 
 laughter. 
 
 Contrasted with this sportive manner, is the plaintive 
 beauty of his numbers, His flowing recital of the 
 wrongs of pride, and pains of love, of vanished figures,
 
 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 297 
 
 sports, and years his visions of the silent haunts of 
 buoyant youth, of the vacant seats of hoary age, of 
 landscapes dotted with ruins and with graves, inspire 
 the mind with that tender melancholy, which subdues 
 but does not darken it which interests the virtues, im- 
 improves the life, and shows that 
 
 "Our sweetest songs aie those that tell of saddest thought." 
 
 If we turn from the author to the man, we find a 
 character made up of curious whims, transient vices, 
 and prominent traits of excellence. Every page in 
 his biography is marked by some strange predicament 
 in which his caprice or folly placed him. 
 
 That he was the son of a preacher, and born in Ire 
 land, and died a bachelor, will account in the estima 
 tion of a few, for most of his oddities, his wit, his 
 blunders, and for his leaving behind him a debt of 
 several thousand pounds. 
 
 Occasionally, his simplicity might remind us of the 
 pedagogue in Hierocles ; and his poverty, of the ghost 
 in Lucian, whose want of an obolus astonished Charon. 
 His eccentricities commenced in his youth, and clung 
 to him through life. 
 
 He secretly left college, paid his passage to America, 
 and forgot to go aboard the vessel. He started for 
 London to study law, and gambled away, in Dublin, his 
 funds for the journey. He went to Edinburg to attend 
 the medical lectures, and soon lost the place in which 
 he had taken lodgings. He set out for Leyden, and 
 sailed for Bordeaux. He borrowed money to travel, 
 and spent it on tulip roots. He began his continental 
 tour with one penny and one shirt. He wrote letters
 
 298 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 without dates ; mistook a footman for a nobleman ; a 
 bailiff for a steward ; an inn for a dwelling ; and intend 
 ing to compliment a lord, uttered a sarcasm. He was 
 more than once arrested for debt, and once imprisoned in 
 mistake for an agent of France. He often procured 
 his dinner by arguing a thesis before an university ; and 
 his bed, by playing a flute before a cottage. At times 
 he was an usher, at times a chemist, at times a phy 
 sician, at last an author. 
 
 Though improvident and careless, he was vain of his 
 own powers, and envious of the success of others. It 
 vexed him that the King had conversed with Johnson ; 
 that people applauded puppets in his presence ; and 
 admired his lady companions more than himself. He 
 renounced the friendship of Kelly, because he was the 
 author of a play more popular than his own. He as 
 saulted Evans, the printer, for his published strictures. 
 
 Though his figure was ungainly, and his face pitted 
 with small pox, he dressed himself in gay colors, and 
 ambitiously paraded in the Temple gardens. Though 
 he was a poor talker, he attempted to shine in conver 
 sation. Though he was confused in the company of 
 men of rank, he boasted of his interview with the Earl 
 of Northumberland ; and complained of the cold salu 
 tation of Lord Camden. He was unduly mortified at 
 the moderate success of one of his comedies ; and un 
 duly elevated by the triumph of another. 
 
 These foibles were, however, not strong enough to 
 enfeeble his mind, or infect his heart. They were but 
 temporary in their influence, and his judgment con 
 demned, and his candor confessed them. His merits 
 predominated. He was found of children ; he would
 
 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 299 
 
 give his last penny to the poor ; he recommended others 
 for favor when he needed it himself ; he never degrad 
 ed his pen ; he never put his conscience in the market. 
 He had many qualities which rendered him fit to 
 confer and enjoy social good. He had a pliant, cheer 
 ful, and forgiving temper. His manners were artless; 
 his sensibility delicate and discriminating ; hjs observa 
 tions acute and extensive. He gathered information 
 from all sources ; found 
 
 " Sermons in stones, 
 Books in the running brooks, and good in every thing." 
 
 Without egotism he infused his own experience into 
 his writings ; and amused us with his errors. He was 
 himself "The Good Natured Man;" the Tutor, in his 
 novel ; " The Traveler," and " The Man in Black." 
 
 Like his own description of Cumberland, he seemed 
 as if 
 
 " Vainly directing his view 
 To find out men's virtues, and finding them few, 
 Quite sick cf pursuing each troublesome elf, 
 He grew lazy at last, and drew from himself." 
 
 His mental powers, harmoniously disposed, were em 
 ployed to impart knoAvledge, to refine the taste, and 
 improve the virtues of society. "His poetry," said 
 Fox, " was the best in the language ;" " It represented 
 the majesty of sensible philosophy," said Madame de 
 Stael ; "He was a great man," said Johnson; "He 
 did all things happily," said Coleridge. 
 
 It has been more than a century since he lived. Of 
 the various illustrious names which enrich the history 
 of his time though the dominant genius of Johnson 
 shone like the centre of an intellectual system though
 
 300 MISCELLANIES. 
 
 Burke and Fox were about reviving the golden age of 
 oratory though Gibbon was preparing that massive 
 work, whose irreverent irony alone impairs its splendor 
 though Collins was singing his beautiful ode to the 
 passions though Young was showering forth his 
 thoughts, rich as pearls though Churchill and Ho 
 garth were exciting London by their satirical battles 
 in verse and pictures though Reynolds was shedding 
 the graces of scholarship over his favorite art though 
 Quin, Foote, and Garrick, night after night, were 
 moving crowds to tears and merriment by the exhibi 
 tions of the stage though Sir Wm. Jones was develop 
 ing those treasures of oriental learning which had been 
 so long hidden from the European world yet none of 
 them however gifted, or however praised, whatever 
 his influence, or his labors is more frequently, or 
 more fondly mentioned than Poor Goldsmith.
 
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 E93*l6 Miscellanies 
 1862 
 
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 E93A16 
 
 1862